Free Dare to Dance: The Maxwell Series by S.B. Alexander Page B

before we talk to Tommy.”
    The inside was somewhat dark, and a handful of people were scattered between the bar that stood directly in front of us and a table near the window. A stand-up sign said to seat yourself. Norma and I wound around the bar and headed to the back of the restaurant. We slid into a booth near what appeared to be a small stage carved into an alcove. Norma plucked a menu from behind the table’s jukebox. I knew I wanted another hamburger.
    A round-faced waitress came over. She scrutinized Norma and me as she pulled a pencil from the bun on her head. “What’ll you have?”
    “First, I want a hamburger with fries,” I said. “Then I’d like to put in an employment application.”
    Her perfectly made-up face twisted, and a crease formed between her light-brown eyebrows. Then she relaxed and smiled. “We don’t get much business in here, and the owner is a prick.”
    I raised an eyebrow. “I know.” Norma and I busted out laughing.
    “Ah.” She snapped her gum. “You were in the fight last Saturday.” She twirled her forefinger around my healing eye. “I hate watching ladies get their faces ruined.”
    “Is Tommy here?” I asked.
    She glanced at the bald, bearded bartender then scooted in the booth and sat next to Norma. “Look, you don’t want anything to do with Tommy.” She kept her voice low. “And you shouldn’t be fighting.”
    “I don’t want to fight.” I laced my fingers together on the table. “I told you I want to waitress.”
    She cocked her head. A strand of light-brown hair fell from her bun. “No offense, but you two are in no shape to apply for a job. You both look like you live on the streets. When was the last time you showered?” Pity rolled off of her.
    Normally, I would have smarted off, but I couldn’t argue when it came to our hygiene. Norma and I had to sneak into the YMCA on occasion to shower. Otherwise, bathroom gas stations were places where we could at least brush our teeth.
    “Lady,” Norma said, “we want to eat. If you don’t want us to work here, just say so.”
    “My name is Alex. I’m trying to help you.” Her tone was flat. “I had a sister who lived on the streets. Unfortunately, she didn’t survive. So before you get all snotty with me—”
    “We’re sorry.” I glared daggers at Norma. “Look, we realize our hygiene isn’t spectacular, but we’re trying to remedy that. You see, once we have some money, we’ll be able to buy some decent clothes. I’m Ruby, by the way.”
    Everything about Alex seemed genuine—her smile, the fact that she was giving us the time of day, and the motherly look in her brown eyes. I would have guessed her to be in her late twenties, and something told me she didn’t want to be in this place.
    “We just need a break.” I wanted to spill my guts about how dire my need was for a job and a roof over my head so I could get my daughter back. But I barely knew her.
    “Alex,” a deep voice from the bar said.
    “Be right there,” she called. Then she looked at us and rolled her eyes. “This place doesn’t see much action, but Tommy has booked a band for the first time in a long time. So we’ll need the help on Saturday for sure. We also had a waitress leave, but Tommy’s not going to hire you until you clean up.” She climbed out of the booth, dipped her hand inside the pocket of her apron, and placed a key on the table. “My apartment is next door, above the bakery. Apartment three. Go shower. I have clothes in my closet that should fit both of you. I also have food in the fridge. Take your time then come see me.”
    “Alex, why are you helping?” I asked. She’d said she had a sister who’d lived on the streets. Still, Norma and I could rob her of everything she had.
    “Life is precious,” she said with a frown before she strode over to the bar.
    Norma and I stared at each other for a mere second before we hurried out of there. The thought of a long hot shower, new clothes, and food