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The sunset over the Bistro Huddy parking lot painted the sky a brilliant orange. The day was still warm, and not a single breeze blew, but Nicole didn’t mind.
From her vantage point of the curb, she could see the occasional car pulling in, mothers yanking their screaming kids from vans, young men in sports cars abandoned their dates in the passenger seat— thinking money gives them all the charm they could need, and groups of teenagers nervously approaching the door, most likely going out to eat for the first time without their parents.
The industrial door behind her squealed open, and Nicole sighed, expecting Terry to yell at her for staying out too long.
“You smoking?” Brad’s incredulous voice cut through Nicole’s musings, shattering the stillness of the evening air.
“No? Gross, I would never,” Nicole scoffed, turning to glare at the server. “I thought you were Terry.”
“I do,” Brad shrugged, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter.
“Congratulations.”
Brad smirked and flicked the lighter open, trying a few times before the spark finally caught, and a little orange flame burst to life, dancing and swaying in the evening air. Despite the absolute lack of a breeze, Brad cupped his hand around the flame and lit the end of his cigarette. He tucked the lighter into his pocket and sat next to Nicole, exhaling a puff of smoke as he did so.
“Why the fuck do you think I smoke?”
Brad shrugged, looking out at the sparsely populated park lot. “I mean, look at you, Nicole.”
“Oh fuck off!” Nicole smacked Brad’s arm, which only caused him to grin. “Give me a damn cigarette, asshole.”
Brad chuckled but did as he was told, handing over a cigarette and lighter.
Nicole placed it delicately between her lips and lit the end, taking a deep breath in when it lit. The smoke burned her, clawing down her throat and rotting in her mouth. She began to cough violently, and Brad laughed.
“Wow, you really don’t smoke, do you?”
“I fucking told you!” Nicole gasped between coughs.
“Then why’d you ask for a cig?” Brad laughed.
“Because I wanted to and because you were being an ass,” Nicole scoffed, bringing the cigarette to her lips again and inhaling slower this time.
Brad snorted, and they fell into silence for a bit. The man smoked quietly, humming slightly and letting out clouds of smoke. Nicole let hers burn between her fingers.
“So why are you out here?”
Nicole sighed, flicking ash from the butt of her cigarette. “It was something Poppy said or whatever. Made me sad.”
“Wow! Poppy really got the best of you? I didn’t think that was possible.”
“Shut up, Brad. I didn’t say she made me sad; it was just something she said that made me sad.”
Brad cocked his head curiously at her but didn’t say anything. A seagull called overhead, squawking noisily as it dove toward the pier, probably hoping to snatch a stray fish from the market.
“It’s just like— is this all there is?” Nicole said finally, gesturing to the half-empty parking lot. “You know? Like, I’m a great server. I know I am. But is a server all I will ever be?”
The gull swerved in the air as it got too close to a crow’s nest, and the bigger bird dove towards it, cawing loudly and spreading its talons in warning.
“Like, I have so much potential, you know? I’m really great at everything I do. But I’m nearing my thirties, and I’m still just doing this.”
Brad tapped his cigarettes against his leg, ash falling against his pants. He brushed it off absentmindedly and looked out at the parking lot. “There’s no shame in being a server. Sure, it’s messy, but with tips, you make way more money than a lot of white-collar dudes.”
“Yeah, I know that idiot,” Nicole said, glaring at her fellow server. “But other people don’t, and if I have to listen to another condescending old white woman ask me if I'm ‘ever going to get a real job,’ I’m going to scream.”
Brad hummed and exhaled a plum of smoke. “What would you do instead?”
Nicole watched as a slight breeze made the end of her cigarette glow orange. “I don’t know. Anything. Maybe open up my own restaurant or something. Maybe travel. I just feel like I should be doing more. It’s, like, painful to think of all I could be doing, but instead, I’m serving stupid entitled assholes at a restaurant that isn’t even that good.”
“Damn, you’re really torn up about this. I don’t think I’ve heard this much emotion from you, ever.”
Nicole scoffed and took another hit from the cigarette, only choking on the smoke a little bit.
Brad sighed, taking another hit himself, far more gracefully than Nicole. “I like to think of life like snapshots rather than a big movie.”
Distantly, Nicole could hear waves crashing into the pier, lapping at the underside of the docks.
“Like, life is about the small moments, the forgettable moments.”
A car full of teenagers drove by, all the windows down and music blasting as wind whipped through their hair. They whooped and hollered, sticking their arms out of the windows and singing loudly and out of tune.
“Like when you open a pickle jar without help or go for a walk on the beach, and the sand is warm but not so hot it burns.”
The seagull rose from the tops of the buildings, a silvery flopping fish between its beak. It swooped triumphantly and landed on the fish market roof, squawking and bobbing its head up and down before devouring its meal.
“Or, like, right now.”
A peel of laughter drifted to the parking lot from the restaurant, and Nicole turned to see a family of four doubled over in laughter as the youngest one sat with a huge grin, basking in the attention of making everyone laugh.
“This is your first time smoking,” Brad said, tapping the end of her cig. “And this is our first time seeing this particular sunset.”
“That was weirdly philosophical of you,” Nicole said, finally giving up and putting her cigarette out on the concrete below and flicking it out into the parking lot.
Brad smirked. “What is it, you always say? I’m more than just a pretty face.”
Nicole rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that only works if you have a pretty face, asshole.”
“Whatever you say. But we should probably get back inside before Terry has an aneurysm.”
Nicole groaned. She leaned against her knees and propelled herself up from the concrete. “I’d never have to deal with this if I opened my own restaurant,” she said.
“Yeah, well, think of me when you open that place up, ok?” Brad said, pulling the restaurant's back door open and holding it for her.
“Yeah, not a chance. I want decent servers at my restaurant.” Nicole walked through the door and into the suffocating heat and noise of the kitchen, which seemed a little more tolerable this time.
“Whatever. You love me,” Brad said, letting the door swing shut behind him.