12 - Help Wanted
The redhead waitress lifted her fresh face as Josh approached. The seated woman looked up in alarm.
No wonder. Josh should have taken a bag or something to grab, because he didn’t exactly know what to do with his hands when he was not holding a shaker, or a kitchen knife or pan.
So he took care not to walk too fast, keep his hands in his pockets, and avoid the boombox-carrying kid walking around. In his stretched jeans and black tee, with the dragon tattoos reaching to his bald head, he looked like a thug, the kind that a Tarantino movie hero would make short work of, just to show off. The kind who in the streets of New-York would scare a frail old lady…
No that old, Josh corrected himself, as the gray-haired woman rose from her chair.
When he reached her, he had a sh
