If Only She'd Loved Him-Sequel

          Slamming the employee door shut with a back-footed kick, Jean collapsed onto the beat up sofa. This was turning into one lousy, lousy night. Her tips so far had been less than nothing and one was even sticky to boot. Some smart kid had taken her money and submerged it in the dregs of his chocolate milkshake while his parents were busy paying the bill. By the time Jean had fished out the soggy dollar bills, both parents and demon-child were gone. Cursing, she hadn't even rinsed off the money first, but instead just thrust it into the pocket of her uniform, not caring at all if the thing got sticky, or maybe even, her smile broadened, ruined. Even though she had been working at Libby's for two months, Jean still loathed her uniform-- a polyester pink apron over a white shirt with a matching pink visor. I look like a Pepto Bismol Easter Egg, she'd thought the first time she saw it. But she needed the money, her scholarship paid for classes, and nothing else.

Sparing a glance at the clock, Jean sighed. Her break was over. Time to get back to the salt-fry mines. Fortunately, her next table seemed pretty typical. A family of four, and the kids looked too old to play submarine with her tips. Easy enough, she thought to herself, pulling out her pad. Ten minutes later, when they still hadn't decided, Jean revoked her assessment. She tapped her pen against her pad, trying to hold onto her smile. Finally after changing and rechanging their order no less than three times, they made up their minds. But by that time, Jean had scratched out what they'd wanted once too often. She was hopelessly muddled when their dinner came and laid the wrong food before them.

The father leaned over the mother. 

 "That's what you get when you pay minimum wage, minimal workers."

Digging her teeth into her lip, Jean refrained from dumping the ketchup in his lap, though she did loosen the cap before she gave it to him.

Now, Jean frowned as she glanced at her watch. Two hours, her shift just had two more hours. She could hack that and then when she got home, she could take a soaky bath. Turn up some tunes and maybe even catch up on her homework for Monday's class: MacBeth. Jean was halfway through the woods of Elsinore, but the rest of the forest along with a three page synopsis of its occupants was due on Monday. She sighed. Two hours. That wasn't so bad. She studied the rest of the customers. Most of the family diners had already gone home, which just left the kids out on dates. The tips would get worse, but the hassles would be less. She could use a few less hassles tonight. Picking up her cloth, she had just started to wipe down the table next to her, when she paused. Her heart beat faster as she heard his voice, but after she looked up, saw who he was with, it slid to a stop.

Laughing, Jean's ex walked into the restaraunt, arm in arm with a pretty brunette,  she knew just enough to not like at all- Kerolyn Meyers. Both of them were wearing grass-stained sweats. No need to ask how the stains got there, Jean thought sourly. And wonder of wonders, the hostess was leading them straight to her section.

I hate my job, man, do I hate my job, she thought as she watched Kerolyn kiss Matt on the cheek before disappearing into the ladies room.

Matt didn't even have the grace to wipe off the pink lipstick as Jean approached his table. She looked at the mark on his cheek and frowned. It was like he had been branded by Kerolyn: He's mine. Don't touch!  Oh, I won't, Jean thought to herself, those days are long over. Still, Matt had always told her he'd hated lipstick. Just one more thing he's a hypocrite about, she decided, pulling out her pen.

"May I take your order?"

"Yes, we'll have," he began, then he saw who was standing there. "Jean, uhhh, I didn't know you worked here."

"Have to pay the bills somehow."

"Um yeah," The menu slipped from his hands. He fumbled trying to pick it up off the floor. Jean reached down and got it for him. For a brief moment, their hands touched. She felt a rush of heat as their fingertips met, stayed a second too long. She straightened up, trying not to blush. Matt reached for his ice water and took a huge gulp. "So um how's Megan doing?" he asked, trying not to look at Jean, wishing Kerolyn would hurry the hell up.

"Megan's fine. She's spending the summer back with her grandparents. After everything that happened, she wanted to take a break."

"Can't blame her there. I'd want more than a few months off if I'd been through what she had. Gotta admit I was suprised when she stayed around this last term. I thought she'd transfer or something."

Jean shot him a twisted smile. "Megan's not into running, not like some people."

For a second, Matt's face stiffened. "I'm not the one who ran, remember?" The look he gave held her hard to the floor. Jean turned back, ready to make some cutting comment when Kerolyn reappeared.

Matt threw his napkin on the table. "We're leaving,"

"But I'm hungry."

"We can eat back at the apartment."

Kerolyn was about to argue when she saw Jean. She noticed how tightly Jean's hands were clenched around her pen, saw the sweat stains on her pad of paper. Brushing her hand through her thick, dark hair, she smiled at her.

"On second thought, guess I'm not too hungry either," then she added, her cat-smirk meant for Jean, though her words were directed to Matt, "at least not for food."

Matt had the grace to look ashamed. "Let's just go." He turned back to Jean. "See you around?"

"You know where I work," she replied. There was a sparkle in her eyes that had nothing to do with happiness.

Matt saw the dampness there. His tone softened. "Jean,"

"Don't! Don't say my name like it means something to you!" Jean's shoulders trembled, but her voice held strong. Matt remembered the first time he'd held those shoulders, felt them quiver and shake until he'd wrapped his arms around her and thought he'd never let go. But that was before.

"Mattttty," Kerolyn interrupted, half whining, half smirking, really just enjoying herself thoroughly, "I thought we were leaving."

"We are." Matt forced his arms to go stiff and straight at his side. When Kerolyn pulled his hand into hers, he barely noticed. His eyes were still on Jean. And hers, much to her shame, frustration, and flat out annoyance, were on him.