Chapter 8

He walked with a limp, favoring his left leg. His trenchcoat was possibly dark gray or black but covered with a thin layer of dirt. His hair, thinning and graying, was always meticulously styled. Lines marked his eyes and mouth, although no one at Alligretti's had ever seen him smile. Even Bebe, the waitress with the longest tenure at the restaurant, hadn't seen him change his expression.

"How are you today, sir?" Denise asked, moving to seat the man.

"Fine," he said, looking at Jen.

"Usual table and order?"

"Yes." He kept staring at Jen. She shifted uncomfortably and picked up a spray bottle of cleaner and rag, more for something to get the weight of his gaze off of her.

Denise led the man to his seat and came back with a pained expression on her face. "He just sends shivers down my spine - and not the good kind, either. Bad shivers."

"Bad shivers?" Jen forced a smile. "Nice."

"Anyway, you were going to tell me about this guy. What happened? You guys do it and he said he'd call and never did?"

"No!" Jen was still surprised by the frank way Denise approached sex. "He asked me to prom, and..."

"...and he's going to make you bring the protection?"

Okay, now Denise was just messing with her.

"Forget it."

"Oh come on, Jenny Two-shoes. What's up?"

"Fine. And I had to tell him I couldn't go."

"Why can't you go? I gave you that weekend off so you could go to prom!"

"You know how sometimes you know something is wrong - you know it! - and you really want to do it, but can't, because it's wrong?"

Denise raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you're talking to the wrong person."

"I don't mean wrong like that. Like, I think that if I went to prom, some really bad things would happen."

"Bad things like...........?"

Jen pursed her lips, unsure of how much to share. Denise was a friend, but a friend with a habit of running her mouth.

"Never mind. I'll figure it out. You've got an order up."

Denise headed back to the steam table, looking over her shoulder as she went. "We're not done, Two-shoes."