Sugar and Spice

Reformed: Jay

I wasn’t trying to be a spy. Honestly, I just wanted to ask Geri if I could head out early since the dining room was spotless, and we were dead. But the walls at Stella Cucina were paper thin, and I heard it: Kingsport.

I froze outside the door, my hand frozen halfway up to knock. I’d seen the folder, sure, but hearing Mallory’s voice break as she talked about “red pens” and “waste of momentum” made my stomach do a slow, sick roll. This wasn’t just a girl trying to go to college. This was a girl being hunted by her own life.

“If I can’t prove I’m making enough to cover my entire first year, he’s going to make me quit.”

The desperation in her voice was a physical weight. I pulled back, my heart hammering against my ribs. I felt like I’d just watched someone get hit by a car and realized I was the one who had been standing in the middle of the road. She hadn’t been acting like a “Missile Scientist” because she loved the corporate handbook. She was doing it because if she missed a single beat, the people who were supposed to love her were going to snatch her future right out from under her.

“I’m building a bridge and I’m doing it by myself.”

Eli was opening the back door just as she was coming out of the office, so I took advantage of the opportunity to slip outside for a breath of air that didn’t taste like garlic. I tried to look casual, watching the seagulls, but when she stepped into the light, she looked different. Lighter, but fragile.

I didn’t say anything as she walked past me. I didn’t want to ruin whatever win she’d just had. I watched her head back up to the lobby, her step a little springier than it had been this morning.

A few minutes later, Riley and Mallory came back into the kitchen to clock out. They didn’t see me tucked into the corner by the walk in. “Guess what,” I heard her say, her voice bright with a relief that actually made my throat tight.

“What?” Riley asked.

“I’m in the March server class.”

I leaned my head back against the cold metal and closed my eyes. I listened for the chime of the front door, signaling they’d left for the day. The kitchen was quiet except for the radio and the clatter from the dish pit. I saw Cole approaching and tried to look normal. “Have you seen my brother?”

“I think he just left with Mallory,” I admitted.

“Asshole, he could’ve waited,” Cole muttered under his breath. “I gotta go catch up to him, are you going to be okay until four?”

“Yeah, I got it,” I nodded.

I watched him leave, thinking about my mom’s black bean soup that was waiting for me once I got home. I headed back up to the host stand and checked the communal drawer. My keys were right there. Her folder was gone.

I thought about the freedom I took for granted every day — the ability to be late, to mess up, to drift. Mallory didn’t have that. She had a ruler and a red pen waiting for her at home.

“By herself,” I whispered to the empty lobby.

I looked at the floor where I’d spilled the tea. I had told Cole I was going to help her, but I was realizing now that the “help” she needed wasn’t just for me to go fast. It was about making sure nothing else went wrong for her. No more spills. No more chaos. No more distractions that would give her dad an excuse to circle her life in red.

The next two weeks were the most disciplined of my life. I stopped showing up late. I stopped wearing faded Quiksilver and Hurley shirts under my apron, and actually adhered to the uniform. I even stopped the “Chaos Factor” commentary, which was the hardest part.

Every time I saw Mallory at the host stand, looking like she was going to crumble with the stress of a million different variables, I wanted to crack a joke just to see the corner of her mouth twitch. But I didn’t. Instead, I became a ghost.

If a guest dropped a napkin, I was there before it hit the floor. If a table looked like it was finishing up, I was ten feet away with the bus cart ready to go. I wasn’t just bussing; I was clearing a path. I wanted her to look at that tablet and see nothing but green. Nothing but open space and perfect timing.

By the last week of February, this unspoken truce had evolved into something I didn’t quite have a name for yet. We didn’t talk about the folder or Kingsport. But when our eyes met across the dining room, there was a weird, silent understanding.

“You’re scaring me, Jay,” Riley said one afternoon as we leaned against the drink station. “You haven’t dropped a fork in ten days. You’re actually good at this.”

“Don’t tell Geri,” I joked, watching Mallory lead a party of six to the family room. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

“She’s nervous about Monday,” Riley noted, and I realized he was also watching Mallory. “First day of the server class, and she’s been studying the wine list like it’s the Bar Exam.”

I waited until Riley went to deliver a round of drinks, then I walked up to the lobby. I didn’t lean on the counter. Instead, I stood straight, trying to match her energy. “Table four-twelve is open. Reset and ready for that four top you have waiting,” I said quietly.

She didn’t look up from the screen, “Thanks, Jay.”

“Hey.”

She finally looked at me. Her eyes were tired, the dark circles under them were a little more prominent than they were a week ago.

“You’re going to be the best server this place has ever seen,” I told her. I wasn’t teasing or flirting. I was just stating a fact. “You know the floor better than anyone else. The trays? That’s just physics. And you’re a literal genius.”

Mallory’s shoulders dropped an inch. A tiny flicker of a smile touched her lips, and she tucked a brown wave behind her ear. “Physics, huh? Is that what you were practicing when you launched a gallon of tea into the air?”

“That was an experimental study on fluid dynamics,” I countered, the lopsided grin finally breaking through. “And I concluded that tea belongs in the glass, not on the rug. See, I’m learning.”

She let out a small, huffed breath that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “Go finish your side work, Jay. You’re actually ahead of schedule for once.”

“I know,” I said, turning to head back to the kitchen. “I’m doing it on purpose.” As I walked away, I could feel her gaze on my back.

Later, when I was stepping through the bushes into the sanctuary, Cole was already there. He was perched on an upside down milk crate, cigarette between his lips, looking like a philosopher in a stained apron.

I sat beside him. I didn’t reach for a joint yet. I just leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes.

“You’re early for break. That’s three days in a row,” he commented. “Is this a Body Snatchers situation?”

“Funny,” I muttered, but there was no heat in it.

Cole took a long drag and looked at me sideways through the smoke. “The whole restaurant is talking about it, man. ‘The Dawson Transformation.’ Geri’s on my side with the pod person theory. Eli’s convinced you’re trying to win a bet. Tiff’s mad you quit flirting with her.”

“I’m not trying to win a bet.”

“Then what? Because this is definitely not the guy who started a month ago.”

I finally opened my eyes to look at the darkening sky. “I heard Mallory talking to Geri a couple of weeks ago. About why she needs this. About her dad.”

Cole went still. The light left his eyes, replaced by a somber understanding. “So you know about the red pen?”

“Yeah. He’s basically holding her future hostage. If she doesn’t make a certain amount of money, he’s gonna yank her out of here and force her into some internship where she’ll be stuck under his thumb. This server class is her way out.”

Cole leaned back, exhaling a long, thin stream of smoke. “And you decided to become the world’s most efficient busser to make sure she doesn’t trip on the way to the exit.”

“I’m clearing the path, Cole. That’s all.”

“It’s a lot of pressure, Jay. March in Florida isn’t a joke. Spring break starts in ten days. You’ve got one week of server training, then one week on the floor before it’s crunch time. The tourists won’t care about her bridge or her dad’s expectations.”

“Let them come. I’ll be on her section, pre-bussing her tables before they even put their forks down. I’ll keep her water pitchers full and her bread baskets stocked.“

Cole chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t forget about your own tables while you’re playing shadow.”

“Whatever it takes,” I said, and I meant it.

“She’s going to notice, you know.” He put out the cigarette, replacing it with a joint. After a couple of hits, he passed it to me. “She’s a genius, remember? She’ll catch on to the fact she has a six-foot blonde shadow with a messy bun.”

“Let her notice,” I shrugged, taking a hit. “As long as she gets the tips, I don’t care what she thinks. She’s doing this by herself, Cole. I just… I don’t think anyone should have to do it that way.”

I passed the joint back and he took another long drag before he stood. “Careful Dawson,” he said as the blue Chevy pulled in. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you liked her.” He took another drag then handed the joint back to me. “See you tomorrow.”