Things You Can't Ignore

"Earth to Ruby!"

I blinked.

"Huh?"

Dani snapped her fingers in front of my face and laughed.

"Girl, if you disappear any further, I'm gonna have to put a tracking device on you."

I rolled my eyes and reached for the coffee pot.

"I'm here."

"Bull. You've been standing there staring at table four for three solid minutes, and that old man is starting to think you're sweet on him."

I glanced toward Mr. Jenkins.

Eighty-two years old and still wearing overalls every day of his life.

He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows.

"Still got it," he called.

I snorted.

"Lord help us all."

Dani nearly dropped the tray she was carrying.

Honestly, I wasn't sure how the two of us became friends.

Standing beside her, I always felt like she'd picked me up at a yard sale.

At five-foot-ten, Dani looked like she belonged on the cover of some magazine. Her black hair fell perfectly straight halfway down her back, and those ridiculous blue eyes of hers made grown men forget their own names.

Even in a cheap restaurant uniform, she looked unfairly beautiful.

Me?

I was five-foot-two.

Five-three if I lied.

My red curls had a permanent relationship with humidity, and after thirty-four years, I'd finally accepted they weren't curls so much as organized chaos.

And there wasn't enough shapewear on the planet to hide hips that God had apparently designed with childbearing in mind.

Dani, of course, thought I was crazy.

"You know," she said, balancing three plates on one arm like she was born doing it, "one day you're gonna wake up and realize you're pretty."

I scoffed.

"Honey, I've seen me under fluorescent lighting. Let's not get crazy."

"You are impossible."

"And you're annoying."

"And yet here we are."

That was the thing about Dani.

Neither one of us had much in common with most women.

Neither of us liked drama.

Neither of us trusted easy charm.

And we'd both learned that pretty didn't always make life easier.

She nodded toward table seven.

"Your turn."

"They need something?"

"They need ranch."

"Table seven needs Jesus."

Dani laughed so hard she had to grab the counter.

And then it hit me.

Not hard.

Just enough.

Like hearing music in another room.

I froze.

Dani noticed immediately.

"No."

"What?"

"No. I know that look."

"What look?"

"That look."

"I don't have a look."

She pointed her spatula at me.

"You absolutely do."

I sighed.

"I'm fine."

But I wasn't.

Truth was, I'd spent most of my life pretending certain things weren't real.

The strange feelings.

Knowing things I shouldn't.

Remembering moments before they happened.

Dreams.

People.

Places.

Grandma Mae used to call it a blessing.

I called it a pain in the ass.

I'd learned something over the years.

You could deny it.

But you couldn't ignore it.

Ignoring it was like ignoring a toothache.

Eventually, it demanded attention.

The bell over the front door rang.

Dani groaned.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

I looked up and immediately recognized trouble wearing backwards ball caps.

Three boys.

Nineteen, maybe twenty.

Too much confidence.

Not enough life experience.

The kind that thought being loud made them funny and disrespectful made them men.

"Your fan club is back," I muttered.

"Shut up."

One of them smiled at Dani.

"Hey, beautiful."

Dani plastered on her waitress smile.

"Table or booth?"

"Depends. Which one are you sitting at?"

I could practically hear her eye twitch.

But before she could answer, the tallest of the three spotted me.

"Well, damn."

I looked over my shoulder.

"Who you talking to?"

"You, Red."

I pointed to myself.

"Me?"

He grinned.

"Didn't know this place hired cute."

I burst out laughing.

Not a giggle.

Not a blush.

An honest-to-goodness laugh.

Poor thing looked offended.

"What?"

"Honey, I got socks older than you."

His friends started laughing.

But the shortest one suddenly froze.

His eyes got wide.

"Oh hell no."

He smacked his buddy upside the head.

"Dude."

"What?"

"Dude!"

"What?"

"That is Ruby."

The boy frowned.

"So?"

"No, not so!"

He lowered his voice.

"Brother, do you enjoy breathing?"

Dani had abandoned all hope of professionalism and was openly listening now.

The third boy had already started backing away.

"Man, leave that woman alone."

"What are y'all talking about?"

The shortest one leaned closer.

"You know Big Mike?"

The boy nodded.

"Yeah."

"Big Mike is scared of her step-daddy."

The poor child blinked.

"No."

"YES."

"No."

"YES!"

The third boy finally joined in.

"My cousin mouthed off to him one time."

Everybody went quiet.

"What happened?"

"He apologized."

The tallest one looked back at me.

"Y'all are messing with me."

I picked up my coffee pot.

"Honey, if I wanted to hurt you, I'd let you keep flirting."

Dani nearly folded in half laughing.

The shortest one pointed at me.

"See?!"

And for the first time in his short life, the poor child seemed to realize his own mortality.

Honestly, I almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

"Table or booth?" I asked sweetly.

"Booth, ma'am."

His friends immediately nodded.

"Booth."

"Definitely booth."

"Booth sounds great."

Dani whispered, "Ma'am?"

I whispered back, "I know."

Then, because the Lord enjoys keeping me humble, one of the idiots knocked over a basket of silverware while another snapped his fingers at Dani.

And just like that, my sympathy died.

I was off my stool before I realized I'd moved.

"Boy, if you're old enough to grow facial hair, you're old enough to know better than to snap your fingers at a woman."

Silence.

Three heads turned.

One muttered under his breath.

"Damn."

Another sat up straighter.

The one who'd flirted with me looked downright heartbroken.

"She's mean."

His friend slapped the back of his head.

"She ain't mean. You're stupid."

Ten minutes later they left in a huff.

Not before one of them slammed the door hard enough to send a plate crashing to the floor.

I stared at the broken pieces.

Dani stared at the broken pieces.

Then she slowly looked at me.

"Well."

"Yep."

"You gonna hear about this tonight?"

I grabbed the broom.

"Oh, absolutely."

Because broken dishes, smart mouths, and young idiots had a way of traveling through town faster than the Holy Spirit.

And judging by the heaviness growing in the pit of my stomach...

Something told me broken plates and dumb boys weren't the only things waiting for me when I got home.

And things you can't ignore have a funny way of finding you.