CRANK

Looking up at the decaying brown building, Elena heaves a heavy sigh while trying to practice her server smile in the smudged front window. A routine she practices every day and has for the last a year since moving to the great state of New York, and landing herself right in the heart of New Jersey, where dreams come true, they say.

“More like where dreams are crushed,” she mutters to herself. Tossing aside her long, thick mane of brown hair that she can never seem to tame, she finally settles on a half-hearted smile and trudges in the diner door.

Genevieve’s pudgy form and sweaty red face is already waiting for her at the front desk, profusely checking her watch like the minutes are ticking by like seconds.

“What must I do to get you to be here on time, girl?”

“I still have 2 minutes until I’m supposed to be clocked in, and my uniform is already on. I’m always in the dining room by 3PM, I don’t understand how that’s being late.”

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you; you aren’t walking in the door at 3PM, you should already be working by 3PM!”

Her mother did the best she could raising Elena, but anyone with or without kids could tell that her mother never wanted the role. Not that she wasn’t fit to be a mother, Elena couldn’t be happier with the way she grew up and the wild adventures she and her family often found them in because of poorly planned trips or immature hijinks.

Growing up, her mother felt more like her childhood best friend rather than a mother, and she never minded it. But she knew she was also missing out on the mother-daughter things that most other girls were getting from their mothers; the sex talk, putting on make-up for the first time, shaving your legs or all the other stages of life girls go through.

Her mother at times seemed more like a tom boy than a girl, and despite wanting to become a professional make-up artist growing up, Elena inhabited a lot of her mother’s quirky traits, always making dating for her difficult. She was born with naturally tanned skin that never seems to burn and long, luscious brunette hair and honey brown eyes.

People often told her she could be a model or actress with her height and beauty, that is until she opens her mouth. The face of an angel but the mouth of a sailor, Elena has always found it hard making or keeping friends, or even pleasing her employers. Genevieve was no exception, she will jump down Elena’s throat over the smallest things, like being 2 mins early instead of 20.

Ignoring the already bad start to her shift, she puts on her apron and grabs her pen and paper pad before going out, praying that the dinner rush this night won’t be so hectic.

3 hours into her shift and everything seems to be going fine, a few big tippers and a handful of dashers hasn’t set her mood back too far. With only 3 more hours to go before she can finally clock out and have the few hours of peace she can enjoy at home, before coming back to do it all over again.

“Elena? Where is Elena?” the frantic voice of Sophie, another waitress, calls out through the kitchen. Elena pokes her head out from the office where she was hiding out and resting. “Oh, thank god. Please, I really need your help, it’s only my second week here I can’t do anything to upset Genevieve or she’ll have my head!”

“Slow down, Soph, tell me what happened.”

“This group of guys came in, covered in tattoos and really intimidating, but Genevieve said they are really important clients. I messed up, Elena! I got one of them the wrong drink, and he threw it all over the table and accused me of purposely giving him something he can’t drink. I didn’t hear him properly and I was too scared to ask him to repeat what he said. Oh no, what am I going to do? He doesn’t want me serving their table anymore, he demanded a new server, but everyone else is occupied with 2 tables or more, you’re the only one on break right now.”

Elena holds back the groan she feels trailing up her throat and slaps on a smile. “Sure, I’ll take over, come sit down and have a rest. I’ll take over the rest of your tables, leave yourself logged into the system though.”

Sophie mumbles her thanks over and over as she takes a shaky seat where Elena was just napping. Putting her apron back on, she tries to spot out the table before getting there to see just how difficult these customers are going to be.

She feels her blood run cold when she finally spots them, there is no way that can’t be the table she is talking about. A group of four men sit in a booth, each one of them having more tattoos then the next, all sharing an equally pissed off and agitated look.

“Well, this should be fun.”

Straightening her back and chanting the mantra over in her head; three more hours, three more hours, keep it together just three more hours, she calmly makes her way over to the table, slamming her paper pad on the table to grab their attention. It’s clear they were just being difficult with Sophie because they could tell she was new, and they seem like powerful people. What else do powerful people do when they’re bored.

Step on those weaker than them, or their case, bully them.

“Hello gentlemen, I’ll be your server for the night. Can I start anyone off with drinks or are we ready to order?”

She is met with a deafening silence and dares a peek over her notepad. The man closest to her with a lip ring and pale grey eyes is looking her up and down, not being shy about it either, and the two other men opposite of him are doing anything they can to not look at her.

It’s the man in the middle that is giving her intense chills down her spine and the sudden urge to run as fast as she can in any direction. He seems to be covered head to toe in black ink, each design more intimidating than the last, his deep blue eyes piercing through her.

The moment their eyes meet, she finds it hard to pull away, and feels almost as if he is silently trying to tell her something with how intense his gaze is.

One of the men on the left of her speaks up and breaks whatever trance she has fallen into. “We’ll take four double rum and cokes, miss.”

Not needing to write that down, she nods her head and scurries off towards the bar, wanting to get away from the group as quickly as possible so she can breathe. Once she is behind the bar, she takes a few deep breaths and gets to work on the drinks, careful not to mess anything up and testing each one with a straw before walking back over.

“Have we decided on anything to eat?” she asks, setting the drinks down and taking her notepad out again.

Once again, she is met with silence, this time all the men looking to the one man in the middle, as he continues to grill her.

“We’re still deciding,” he finally answers, a smooth, thick Russian accent rolls off his tongue and sends shivers down her spine.

Elena shakily nods her head and scurries off again, this time running straight to the kitchen in the back. She takes another few gulps of air and reaches for the pitcher of water they keep out for servers and kitchen staff.

“Hey, you okay?” Will, the line cook, calls out to her with a concerned look.

She manages a smile and nods her head. “Yeah, I’m good, just a long day.”

He frowns and throws down his tea towel, walking up to her to examine her face more closely.

“We’ve worked together awhile; I can tell the difference between an exhausted Elena and a scared one. I’m aware of the customers you have at your table, Sophie told me everything. Are you sure they aren’t giving you trouble? I’ll be cooking their food; I got no problem going out there and taking their order.”

Elena tries to laugh off his hostile request, but she is tempted to take up his offer. She can’t shake the chill from the look that man was giving her, the intensity alone is something she has never seen in a person.

Like he was being reunited with a long-lost love or relative. Wracking her brain, she tries to think of ever meeting a man like him and she can’t recall ever meeting someone with nearly as many tattoos as him anyway.

Shaking it off, she composes herself and walks back out there, hoping they are ordering something small and quick so this transaction can be over and done with.

To her surprise when she gets back, the three other men have left and only the one with the pretty blue eyes remains. He is looking intently at what seems like a candid photo of something when she approaches, clearing her throat to grab his attention.

“Will you be dining alone from now, sir?” she asks, hating how her voice still trembles despite trying to calm herself earlier.

Why does this man make me so nervous?

“Do I look like a man who would be dining alone?”

His accented voice and blunt question catch her off guard, but before she has the chance to even be confused, he reaches out and grabs hold of her hand, tugging her just enough for her to fall into the booth next to him. With little effort, he tugs on her skirt and pulls her closer to him.

“I’ll be dining with you.”