Ignoring the ‘Please Wait to be Seated’ sign, the rowdy group piled into a red, naugahyde covered corner booth in her section. Of course they would choose a booth in her section. At least they were far away from the regulars.
"You're up awful late," she said to Cal, the leader of the group. "Aren't you getting hitched this afternoon?"
"Liv Driscol's my waitress!" he slurred, ignoring the menu she was trying to hand him. "Liv Driscol—the sexiest piece of... "
She tapped his cheek lightly with a menu. "Don't finish that sentence, Cal. Just go on and quit while you're only a little behind."
“Alright, alright. We just got back from partying all night in Denver. Me and my boys need some serious food. Mel’s diner is the best. I fucking love Mel’s,” he paused trying to focus his red eyes on Liv.
“Our specials today are-“
“Dudes,” Cal whispered loudly. “Hey guys, this is that chick I was telling you about,” the drunken groom swayed in his chair. “Back in high school she raced the whole football team shotgunning a six pack. She finished a whole beer ahead!”
“Yeah, a real high point in my life. Now what can I get you boys to drink?” Liv pulled a worn yellow pad from her apron as the group settled into the table.
“Then she puked hot wings and beer all over the quarterback’s Camaro! It was so awesome. She’s a freaking legend!” Cal paused momentarily, trying unsuccessfully to look sober. He put his fist over his heart. “She’s my hero,” he sniffed dramatically as the table dissolved into drunken laughter.
“We went to high school together didn’t we? The last time I saw you was at graduation. You got freakin’ hot. How much for a lap dance?” the man who had supported the groom on the way into the diner giggled. The rest of the table held their breath, eyes focused on Liv.