Sugar and Spice

Straight Lines and Momentum: Mallory

The next morning, the silence of my bedroom felt heavier than usual. I dressed in the usual business casual look of Stella Cucina hosts — a crisp white button-down and gray slacks for today — and adjusted my collar in the mirror. Even as I fixed my brown waves around my shoulders, my eyes drifted to the spot on my forearm where Jay’s hand had wrapped when I’d helped him up. I could still feel the warmth of his touch.

“Straight lines,” I whispered to my reflection. “Momentum.”

I skipped breakfast, unable to stomach another round of my father’s budget critiques, and made it to the restaurant by 10:15AM. The Florida sun was already baking the asphalt, and the humidity felt like a wet wool blanket.

Eli let me in through the back door, and I made my way up to the lobby, expecting to find it in its usual pre-shift state of dusty silence.

Instead, I found a small white box sitting right in the center of the host stand.

I looked around. The dining room was empty, though I could hear Eli’s radio thumping in the kitchen. I stepped closer to the stand.

On top of the box was a sticky note. It wasn’t one of mine. This one was neon green, the edges a little warped like the pad had been thrown in a drawer and forgotten about. The handwriting was small, and not exactly pretty, but it was surprisingly neat:

For the Missile Scientist. To help with the “mathematical equity,” or whatever you call it, of your morning. -J.

I opened the box. Inside was a single, perfectly glazed donut from the bakery down the street. The one that usually had a line around the block by 7AM. Next to it, was a small plastic “wet floor” sign, likely from a dollhouse or a Lego set. It was barely two inches tall.

A laugh bubbled up in my throat before I could choke it back. It was ridiculous. It was a distraction. It was a zig-zag.

“You’re late,” a voice drawled from the bar.

I jumped, clutching the box to my chest. Jay was leaning against the brass rail of the bar, a damp rag slung over his shoulder. His hair was actually tied back neatly today, and his apron was tied tight.

“I am exactly on time, Jay,” I said, regaining my posture. I set the box back down on the stand, trying to keep my face neutral. “What is this?”

“It’s a peace offering,” he answered, walking over. He didn’t stop until he was on the other side of the stand, invading my space just enough to be annoying. “And a safety precaution. I figured maybe the miniature sign would keep the other one from feeling so heavy next time.”

I looked down at the tiny yellow sign, then back at him. “You went to Sweet Parlor? That line takes forty minutes. At least.”

“I have my ways,” he grinned, and there it was, that lopsided look that made my brain skip a beat. “Actually, I just told everyone in the line that my boss was a terrifying genius who hadn’t eaten in three years. They felt bad for me.”

“I am not terrifying,” I argued, though the donut smelled heavenly.

“You’re a little terrifying, Mal. But in a ‘I’m impressed you haven’t imploded yet’ kind of way.” He tapped the top of the box, “I recommended eating it before Riley sees it. I hear he’s a vulture for sugar.”

I hesitated, thinking about my father’s voice. Every cent has a destination. Every calorie is fuel. But then I thought about the red circles on my budget, and the way my house smelled like nothing at all.

I picked up the tiny wet floor sign and slipped it into my purse before closing the drawer. Then, I broke off a piece of the donut. “Thank you, Jay.”

“Don’t mention it,” he shrugged, turning back toward the dining room. “Oh, I already put a booster seat down at four-twenty-two. I saw a mini van in the parking lot with a ‘baby on board’ bumper sticker.”

I watched him walk away with a surprising amount of grace for someone who had faceplanted less than twenty-four hours ago. He was doing it again — helping. This time though, I didn’t feel like my bridge was rotting. I felt like someone was handing me a hammer.

I took a bite of donut. It was sweet, messy, and completely off diet.

The back doorbell rang again, and a couple minutes later Riley was standing in the lobby shrugging out of his jacket. “Can I leave these up here?” he asked, sliding his keys across the counter. They hung from a very faded, tie-dyed Scooby Doo lanyard. As I dropped them into the drawer, his eyes locked on the donut box. “Is that from Sweet Parlor?”

I chuckled softly around a mouthful of donut and nodded. “Want a piece?” I offered after swallowing.

“Does a bear sleep in the woods?” Riley didn’t even wait for a napkin, he just pinched off a hunk and shoved it into his mouth with a contented groan. “God bless whoever braved that line. I owe them my soul.”

“It was Jay,” I said, his name feeling a little lighter on my tongue than it had yesterday.

Riley paused mid-chew, his eyebrows shouting up towards his hairline. He looked across the dining room to where Jay was currently snapping tablecloths into place. “Jay? Our Jay? The guy who thinks punctuality is a suggestion? Man, he must feel really bad about that spill.”

“He said it was a peace offering,” I murmured, sliding the box towards Riley so he could finish it. I needed to get my head in the game. The lunch rush was coming. I needed to wash donut off my hands and get the floor plan ready.

The day went by in a blur of synchronized efficiency. It was strange — scary, even — how much easier the floor moved when Jay was actually trying. We didn’t even need to speak. He just seemed to anticipate every move I made on the tablet. By 2:30PM, the dining room was mostly empty, the side work was done, and I wasn’t going to have to stay late to fix someone else’s mistakes. It was just a matter of waiting for shift change.

I saw Geri in her office, hunched over a stack of invoices. I took a deep breath, and knocked. “Got a second, Geri?”

She looked up, her reading glasses sliding up her nose. “Mallory. Perfect timing. I was just looking at the labor numbers from lunch. Everyone crushed it today. What’s on your mind?”

I stepped inside and sat in the creaky wooden chair across from her desk. “I wanted to ask about the March server training class. I know I told you last month that I wanted to stay at the host stand through the summer, but… I’ve changed my mind. I need to be in that class.”

Geri leaned back, her chair letting out a long protest. “March is only a few weeks away, Mal. You’ve been my best host for two years. The sudden rush to the floor doesn’t have anything to do with a certain busser does it?”

“No.” I looked down at my hands twisted together in my lap. “I told my parents I was already signed up for it. I told them it would mean higher earnings.”

Geri’s expression softened. She knew my parents; she’d met them exactly once when they came in for dinner when I’d first started working here. She’d spent the rest of the night describing them as ‘bottled lightning in expensive suits.’ “You lied to them?” she asked softly.

“I had to,” I whispered, the confession feeling like a weight lifting off my chest. “My dad wants me to take an internship this summer. He thinks this job is a ‘waste of momentum.’ If I can’t prove that I’m making enough to cover my entire first year in Kingsport, he’s going to make me quit. He’s already circling my budget in red pen, Geri. He’s looking for any reason to keep me from leaving.”

I felt a tear prick the corner of my eye and brushed it away angrily. “I’m building a bridge, and I’m doing it by myself. I need the tips.”

Geri was silent for a long moment, the only sound was her office fan and the muffled chaos of the kitchen. Then, she reached out and patted my hand. “March it is,” she said. “But on one condition. You have to help me train your replacement. And honestly, Mallory? I think you’re more than ready. You’ve been running this restaurant from the front door for a long time.”

“Thank you, Geri. Seriously.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Being a server means dealing with people like Jay all day,” she joked, though her eyes were kind. “Speaking of, he’s been working like a man possessed today.”

I felt my face warm. I thought about the donut and the tiny sign, and the way he’d looked at me in the linen closet yesterday. “Maybe he realized that some things are more important than they look on the surface.”

I walked out of the office feeling five pounds lighter. Eli rang the back doorbell, signaling that the door was open for a trash run. Jay was out there, watching the seagulls circle the parking lot. He looked relaxed, his bun finally starting to come loose. He looked over as he heard my footsteps. I offered him a small smile and headed back up to the lobby.

As I collected my things to go, Riley appeared asking for his keys. “Guess what,” I grinned, passing him the lanyard.

“What?”

“I’m in the March server class!”

His brows shot up as a smile broke across his face. “It’s about time you became one of us.” We walked together back to the kitchen to clock out. “Better start practicing your tray carry though. We don’t need anymore faceplants.”

“I’ll leave the spills to the professionals.”