REWRITTEN
The idea at first was to let her sleep in the store room until she could afford a motel two blocks down, but being underage and only getting minimum wage, (which was even less than it was in 2019) it would take a while for that to be enough and so it looked more like a longterm solution.
Violet didn't mind as long as Elaina didn't mind.
Her job consisted of cleaning, wiping tables, taking back the plates and cutlery and tidying before they locked up. What she wasn't there for was being a waitress, because Elaina knew speaking to people wasn't her strongest skill.
People in the sixties were even more judgemental than in twenty nineteen and she had already had grief from older, self entitled white men greeting her then getting rude and snappy when she didn't respond.
Occasionally as she'd be cleaning tables, someone from another table would click their fingers at her and call out for table service. She wouldn't even glance at them and she'd get called names, and if Elaina heard she'd quickly tell them that it wasn't her job to serve them - and if they continued with that attitude in her diner (or her husbands, rather), she'd ban them from service in the future.
But there were times when Elaina was busy and the other waitresses were occupied and someone would call out to her and she'd have to ignore them, that they'd get up from their seat and cause trouble.
Violet was stacking some empty plates from a table next to this young-ish group of people - three men in their early twenties; one in a smart suit without a tie fiddling with a pack of cigarettes, his arm slung over the back of the booth, and two others slightly younger looking, one without a suit jacket and one in casual clothing. A girl sat next to one of them in a polka patterned dress, the casual ones denim jacket slung around her shoulders.
The one in the dark suit, looking like he could be studying to be a lawyer, had been there a few times, but this was the first time he'd shown up with a group of friends. The moment they walked in together she knew there would be trouble purely by how loud they were being.
"Hey, can we get some more cokes for the table?" The guy with his shirt sleeves rolled up called out to her, gesturing with his hand in the air.
Violet glanced briefly at them through a curtain of her hair but continued stacking the last plate and picking them up to carry them away, anxiety swarming in her gut.
There was a pause before the one in the suit sat spoke.
"Hello?" He called out, waving lazily as the rest snickered as she ignored them further. "Are you deaf or something?"
Violet chewed on the inside of her cheek as she went to walk past their booth with a stack and nearly tripped over the leg that suddenly stuck out in her path.
She careered to a stop, his shoe colliding with her shin before he quickly tucked his leg back in and bit back a smirk, his whole table watching her like she was some sort of spectacle.
"Sorry, my bad. Go on."
She went to continue but the one with rolled up sleeves tried to trip her again, and this time she narrowed her eyes, fingers tightening around the edges heavy plates as they clinked together.
The laughter under their breath was getting on her nerves and she wanted sorely to leave this situation, but they were trying to make her life hell and it was working.
All because she didn't talk when they wanted her to.
"Hey, what's your name?" The smart looking man leaned forwards to ask as she stood there uncomfortably.
She said nothing and stepped over the extended leg, but the white shirt guy stood in her way at the last second so she almost bumped right into him.
She grit her teeth, closing her eyes briefly.
"Oh, I'm sorry, am I in your way..." he had the nerve to reach out and flick some of her hair out of the way so he could see her nametag. As he did, she backed away from him like he had burned her, her instincts wanting her to throw the plates at him. "...Violet?"
The blonde girl at the table sat back against the guy with the denim jacket, smirking and playing with the straw in her milkshake. The smart looking one just sat back, flipping his cigarette packet in hand.
The white shirt guy leant down in front of her so she would have to look at him. "If you ask me politely, maybe I'll let you pass."
This was cruel. This was something her siblings had tried when they were toddlers, for heavens sake, before mom told them off. Before they had much of an understanding of her condition and how much it effected her. It was childish, and rude, and ridiculous, and yet - she opened her mouth to say something and no sound came out.
The boy grinned cockily as his friends grinned silently, watching.
She sidestepped to get past him, keeping her head down, but he mirrored her movements and she grit her teeth.
She didn't need this. She certainly didn't get paid for it.
"Come on, just ask." He prompted, as though it was nothing.
Her silence and stoic staring was thoroughly amusing, it seemed, to their little group.
They had left a mess on their table too. Of course they were that type. They probably knew she'd be the one to clean it up when they left.
She stepped left, he followed. She tried to shoulder past him, he got in her way and she grimaced as they nearly touched, clutching the plates in a white knuckled grip, given how much he towered over her.
"Just ask, it's not that hard," he continued tormenting her. "Come on!"
"Hey!"
Violet's tense shoulders deflated at the sound of another waitress snapping at them - a forty year old woman who had three empty glasses in one hand and stormed over.
Caroline was the only other waitresses to even bother introducing herself to Violet when she started. The others kind of got on with their work without bothering.
"You waste her time any more and you'll be paying into her hourly, you hear?" She snapped, pointing her fresh manicured nails at the boy who's smile quickly left his face.
"Oh come on... we didn't do nothin'!" The girl piped up in a whine.
The smart one nodded, the most serious sounding of the group. "I'm sorry, we were just messing around."
Caroline rose an eyebrow and placed a hand on her hip. "Miss Harrison doesn't take kindly to people like you. This is your first warning. One more and you can take your business elsewhere."
The antagoniser scoffed, sitting back down with his friends. "Yeah right..."
Violet smiled a little, watching Caroline scold them.
"Honey, we've got fifteen tables here and it's only lunchtime," she pointed out. "If you think losing one of them is gonna make a dent in what we get, you've got another thing coming."
"We're your customers. What happened to service with a smile?" The smartly dressed one asked dully.
Violet chewed her cheek so she didn't outright smirk.
Caroline grinned, amused. "Ask for the manager if you want to file a complaint."
The woman gestured with her free hand for Violet to follow and she did, tucking her head down and walking at her side. They listened to the table scoff and mutter under their breaths as they left them, and Violet saw Caroline's calm smile.
"Don't pay no attention to people like that in life, Violet," she placed the glasses back and pointed at her sternly. Her thin fingers went up to tighten her sharp ponytail, tucking away the stray black hairs. "It'll get you no where good in life."
With a wink, she sauntered away with a handful of menus to greet the couple that just walked in, door chiming.
Violet couldnt help but be reminded a little of Allison when she saw how Caroline didn't take anyones shit, and that thought alone was rough - anything that reminded her of her family brought on bad thoughts, but her life her was beginning to pick up and things like this made her want to smile despite it all.
So for the rest of the day she kept her head high and even tied her long auburn hair back into a low ponytail as it grew warmer and the rush filled in, a couple strands falling out around her face.
The table that had given her grief had soon left, their plates not stacked, cutlery a mess, used napkins everywhere and even a couple of drink spillages on the table. But Violet cleaned it all up with a little smirk, knowing that Caroline's threats were true about Miss Harrison.
Elaina had barred many an arrogant man from her husbands diner and they'd all seen it with their own eyes - a wonderful sight to behold that would keep the girls gossiping for the entirety of their lunch breaks.
She remembered a man once asking to speak to the owner after some 'bad service' - that being him pinching the other waitresses ass as she walked by and her spilling a drink on him purposefully.
'I am the owner. What can I do for you? '
The waitresses glanced their way warily, wondering if something was going to kick off.
'I'm talking about Hal, not you, darlin'.
She had given a bitter but confident smile. 'That's my husband, and I don't know if you noticed but he ain't here.'
Waitresses had gossiped about Elaina on their break and Violet, being the quiet observer, had overheard. Some of them joked that she'd killed her husband to take over his business, and that's why he was never seen but his name still stayed out front.
And occasionally, when a customer got too lippy, Caroline would drop the 'well her husband ain't here, and if you carry on the way he did, I dont see you sticking around here for too long.'
It was thoroughly amusing working in the diner and being able to listen in on everything that went on. She never really left the house before in twenty nineteen, unable to get herself a job, and her family weren't as close to joke around with.
It was the only form of entertainment she had to go on nowadays, and although light, it kept her going. It was refreshing, distracting her from the fact she was all alone in Dallas with no knowing when or if the others would show up.
The group of men came in as regulars after the incident, sometimes with the guy in denims girlfriend, sometimes just the smartly dressed one on his own. But after the first time, they never caused much trouble again.
Except they always made a point to say hello to her and call out or wave, knowing she wouldn't respond, or couldn't even if she wanted to - and would laugh to themselves when she glanced their way. It was some kind of joke for them, it seemed.
As months passed, she couldn't bring herself to care much about it anymore, barely even noticing their presence and doing her best to distance herself.
As the time passed, Elaina made a point to tell Violet how well she was doing and how she'd been a great help. At this point during one of her breaks, she'd internally panicked, thinking she was getting let go.
But it was quite the opposite.
Elaina showed her out to the parking lot one afternoon and pulled out a silver bicycle from the trunk of her car, fit with a basket at the front, bell and everything.
To her confusion, she explained how the delivery driver was starting to charge more and they weren't planning on going along with it for the business' sake, so she was wondering if, on occassion, Violet could go to a certain store downtown and pick up some things when they needed.
"It was my sisters bike, and she's all grown up now so she ain't gonna miss it," she brushed a hand over the sleek handlebars and smiled at Violet. "You know how to ride one, I hope?"
She nodded.
With the promise of extra pay for every time she travelled out for deliveries, it was a no brainer to take the offer. And Violet was grateful for everything the woman had done for her, taking a chance on her and giving her a place to stay and a job. It felt right to do whatever she needed, whatever she could to help.
And although she hadn't ridden a bike since she was a young teenager, she picked the skill up again in no time.
Mostly she picked up extra ingredients or new stock of their branded napkins and striped straws. One time she'd had to be extra careful with a box of new sundae glasses because Nuan kept breaking them while doing the washing up. (They all teased she was the most heavy handed out the workers.)
It was nice to think things were looking up for her, but every night as she slept on the small couch, her mind went to where her family were. Where Five was.
If she would ever see them again.
All she could do was hold out hope, but hope had failed her countless times before and now it was a bitter accomplice to her ever tormenting anxiety.