We laid in the bushes. My heart was beating like a steel drum. Bum. Bum. I knew we couldn't go on like this. The constant hiding. The sneaky letters hidden on the bottom of beer soaked coasters.
We worked together. Servers for your beverage and sustenance needs. Snook's Burgers and Shakes.
Keven asked me on a date the first night I worked with him. He said that he wasn't sure why, but he was compelled to ask. Said that I was special. We made love that first night and haven't stopped since.
I thumbed through the little green rule book at orientation; it's pages stained brown and yellow from years of employees running their fingers through it. In bold, black ink it read: "No employee dating, under any circumstances." Since I was in the first flush of my training, they let me hold on to the rules, so that I familiarize myself with its contents.
I was a little too familiar now.
My mother always said, never date anyone you work with. But, the rules change when it's your boss, and you need this job or you'll end up sitting on a curb with all your shit and your thumb up your ass. Yeah, she didn't cover that during the child-rearing years.
Now, we sit and wait, hoping that that light streaming through the tangled web of bushes and leaves was just a kid looking for his lost watch. And trying to maneuver around so that we could pull on shirts and pants and shoes. We're a heap of body hair and pale limbs.
The sound of a static and jumbled speech from a walkie-talkie ring out in the air. Shit. I don't know what I'll do if we're caught. I'm only a minor for two more weeks...and I'm pretty sure his wife won't be too happy.
I really wish my mom had covered this during that child rearing phase. Shit.