Night Shift
Kisses aren't on the menu. They are never going to be on the menu. A 2-Minute story
“Gentlemen.… what would you like?”
“How about two cups of coffee and a big ol’ wet kiss, darlin’ ?”
“Kisses aren’t on the menu, Jack. And they’re never going to be on the menu.”
“Come on, Gracie. Where’s your spirit of generosity, babe.” He puts his hand on her arm.
She yanks it away. “Two coffees — anything else?”
Grace isn’t interested and she’s always clear about it, but they don’t give up. These two guys come around every night and harass her, because they know they can. But I don’t ever say anything. I don’t want to lose my job.
“What time d’you get off, Gracie?”
“Past your bedtime, I’m sure,” she says.
“I could get you off, if you’d let me,” he sniggers.
“Yeah… No thanks. I’ll get your coffee.”
At 11:00, Grace said goodnight, turned the sign around on the door, and locked up. She crossed the empty city street, and walked past the park toward home. She thought she heard footsteps behind her, and looked back , but didn’t see anyone. She walked faster and ducked around the corner. A guy called her name, someone else laughed and told her to wait up. She pulled her coat around her and began to run along the river front. They caught her, grabbed her shoulders. Jack put his hand over her mouth. She struggled and kicked, but they forced her to the ground, and were pulling at her skirt.
I got them off of her. I slammed one in the head so hard he fell unconscious into the bushes, reeking of sweat and alcohol. I left the second guy doubled up, gasping for breath, groaning in the dirt. I broke his nose, possibly his arm. Grace was crying and mumbling. I put my jacket over her, lifted her up and carried her to the bus shelter.
“You okay? Are you hurt?”
“Marty? Marty, what are you doing here?”
“Are you hurt? Tell me what I can do.”
“I’m okay, Marty, but how’d you get here? You were cleaning the kitchen when I left. How’d you know I was here?”
“I walk you home, Grace.”
“You what?”
“I walk you home — every night. It’s not good, you out on these streets alone. I always make sure you get home safe.”
“Really? I never saw you, not even once.”
“I know. I stay back. I don’t want to scare you, but someone’s gotta look out for you.”
We sat a while, watching the moon rise in a cold sky.
So many women on the night shift could use a guy like Marty. Angels come in many forms. I love this story, Sharron!
Every woman needs a bodyguard. So glad Marty was there.