casey, meet your new replacement

this girl came in tonight. she couldn't have been much older than me but it was apparent that she was much, much more seasoned than i was. everything about her was painfully thin, her body, her clothes, her hair, even her pack of newports was crushed flat. she spoke with that white girl ghetto twang i've come to love but there was also something raucous and downright cocky about her. she didn't chew her gum - she smacked it - and she told "billy" about her son and his choo choo train bank. she finally noticed me standing at the oven and trying to take all of her in. "hey girl, you new? you musta taken my job." she wiggled her eyebrows towards the restaurant and smirked, "they couldn't handle casey in there." she bought two of the fancy glass coke bottles and sauntered out. as she left, her hips swung in an assured way but also in a sad desperation. in a way that she knew would grab his attention, whoever he was.

bill said she was the old waitress. heather and i were hired to replace her. apparently, a customer asked for prosciutto but they were all out. when the woman got snooty, casey pitched a fit and screamed "fuck you, you fucking alcoholic bitch! get the fuck out, we don't fucking need you." i hoped he was lying but i don't think there was any exaggeration. censoring, maybe. heidi told me a similar story on her cigarette break. you could feel the waves of pity flow between us. as she blew her smoke rings, she turned to me and rasped "kid, don't. she doesn't need it and she doesn't want it." suddenly, i'm just a little bit proud of casey. but maybe just a little bit afraid too.