Shay Warner ran away from her adopted family as soon as she found out what they truly were: criminals. They lied, they killed, they betrayed her in a way that scarred her forever. It isn't until the police catch up to her that she's forced to go bac...
Shay stopped humming along to the music drifting out of the speakers when she heard a woman yelling for her attention, daydreams of white sandy beaches being wiped away as she blinked and focused. She turned her attention to the couple sitting at the only occupied table in the restaurant, her elbows propped up on the bar as she'd just been caught dreaming of far away places.
"Yes?" Shay replied.
"This beer is flat."
Shay resisted the urge to roll her eyes before walking over. Of course her only table had to be difficult. First, the mashed potatoes were cold. Then, when the woman was more than halfway through her salmon, she complained that it was too salty. After remaking the meal and basically giving her two for the price of one, the woman still found something to bitch about.
"Ma'am, I assure you the beer is fine." Shay said as she stood by the middle aged woman's table for the tenth time that night, trying to reason with her as her husband sat silently across from her.
"How do you know? I'm telling you it's not." She said in her high-pitched voice.
"I tasted some before I gave it to you." Shay informed her, not even stretching the truth. She had in fact taken a straw and pulled some of the beer out of the glass before handing it to her, just to ensure that there would be no problems.
Alas, the woman found one anyway.
"Well you're wrong."
"Ma'am, maybe if you'd-"
"Shay, please come here." The manager of the restaurant, who was also the hotel's owner, waved Shay over to the bar before she could ream out the old woman, which she had been on the verge of doing. With a sigh, the only server in the tiny restaurant stalked over to her employer. "What's going on?"
"She's literally the most difficult person I've ever dealt with." Shay said exasperated. After explaining everything that went wrong with the meal, Mrs. Lang decided to go over there to try and mend the situation herself.
While Shay had a moment to calm down, she leaned against the small bar and waited. The restaurant that was attached to the small hotel was above the lobby, with only ten tables and hardly any business. It looked nice with its big TVs and ocean theme, but with the resort being so secluded, no one ate here besides hotel guests. Since there were only 32 rooms and it was a Sunday, that meant they had almost nobody at all.
As Shay's mind was about to drift off to unknown lands, her attention was suddenly grabbed by a figure walking into the restaurant. She didn't recognize him, but he was alone and looked to be in his early thirties. He had a buzzcut and a stocky frame, his eyes looking the complete opposite of friendly.
Shay barely acknowledged him as he sat down on a bar stool. She was too annoyed to be friendly.
"Hey, how are you doing?" The man said to her. He was wearing a button-down shirt and khakis, which Shay considered to be strange. This wasn't a fancy place by any means.
"I'm okay, can I get you something to drink?"
"Do you have any local beer?"
They only had three beers on draught. Two could be bought in a six-pack for less than seven dollars and the other happened to be from Portland, Maine. "Geary's. It's pretty good."
"I'll take one of those."
"Sure. May I see your ID?" Though the man clearly looked over 21, probably closer to 30 judging by his slightly receded hairline and thick beard, Shay made it a habit to gather intel on people, especially ones that gave her a weird vibe. The man didn't question her request and held out his driver's license, which she quickly took. His name was Corey Thompson, he was 29 and his address was not too far from here. When she was satisfied, she handed it back to him and poured his beer.
"I don't get many locals in here." Shay commented.
"I drive by here pretty often and figured it was about time I stop in." Corey explained, his face neutral.
"Gotcha."
"How long have you been working here?"
"A month." Shay replied, not fond of the questions being turned on her.
"Ah."
The silence that stretched between them was filled with tense words between her boss and the needy table, which apparently couldn't be pleased even by the manager. A couple of minutes later, Mrs. Lang came back over.
"Shay, would you make them some blueberry pie please?" Mrs. Lang requested.
"Will do."
"After that you can go home for the night, Brent can close up." She told Shay before she started chatting up their newest guest.
Shay made her way down the back staircase to the kitchen, where Brent the chef was washing dishes. Brent was in his thirties with a receding hairline and a beer belly but had a zero-fucks attitude that would be better suited on a seventeen year old boy. Somehow, he was the one Shay clicked with most here.
"Did they leave yet?" Brent asked, referring to the same couple that he had cursed about as soon as Shay had relayed the complaints about the food.
"Nah. Gotta make them a free dessert first." She replied as she got out the pie and ice cream from the freezer.
"I hate how bitchy people just get free shit. It ain't right."
"I hear ya, Brent." She replied. Though working at the hotel had its downsides, she was paid in cash which was nice. The owner wanted to avoid taxes as much as Shay wanted to avoid the government in general, so it really worked out for both of them.
After delivering the desert to the couple upstairs, she clocked herself out and made her way to the dirt parking lot out front. Her blue Toyota Corolla was one of the only cars left, since most of the guests from the weekend were now gone. She recognized Brent's truck next to hers as well as Mrs. Lang's Prius closer to the door, but the black SUV looked totally out of place.
Shoving the bad feelings out of her stomach, she pulled out of the lot calmly, leaving a small cloud of dust in her wake. She listened to punk rock on the fifteen minute drive to her apartment, occasionally glancing in her rear-view mirror and cursing herself for being so paranoid. She left the mansion two years ago, and no one was coming after her. How could they?
According to the government, Shay Warner was dead.
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