Hide & Seek

Two

Psalm grumbled as he cleaned up the mess his table had left behind. The family he'd served had two six year olds who seemed hell bent on making the biggest mess they possibly could. The crumbling yellow wallpaper was  painted in red spaghetti sauce and the table covered in a sea of hand-crushed bread. For his troubles they'd tipped him a whopping two bucks on a fifty-dollar tab.

Yeah.

He was more than tired of working in food service. But, at just eleven years old in the big city of Los Angeles it was hard to find another employer who'd be willing to pay him his wage in cash. So, he rolled up the sleeves of his uniform, wiped a bead of sweat from his brow and got to work scrubbing until his arm gave out.

  "Psalm!" The boy turned his head, watching as his boss came around the counter, his large belly leading the way.  Mr.Piggoli was a mean old man with a kind heart. The moment Psalm had come in, just ten years old with big brown doe eyes and torn grime-streaked clothing he'd given him a job. But, that didn't mean the old man wouldn't drive him crazy until the day he quit.

"There's a customer waiting to be seated!" He barked, thrusting his big hairy thumb to the small wooden doorway of the Italian restaurant. There was a man standing there, scrolling on his phone without a care in the world. He had on a suit, the kind Psalm often dreamed about owning one day.

Handsome, was the boy's first thought. The man was the type of person you'd see on the street and instantly want to get your haircut like his, hoping to resemble him one day.

Psalm sighed, and set down his dirty rag, eying the table in disgust one last time before walking off. He silently prayed that this guy wouldn't be as messy as his last table.

"Hello," he chirped, in his best work voice. Mr.Piggoli had coached him on making his voice deeper. Looking at Psalm, you wouldn't immediately know he was eleven. Maybe fifteen or sixteen, it was his voice that gave him away. The man raised his chilled blue eyes up to Psalm and nodded once, not bothering to smile cheerfully like most other customers.

Normally, the eleven year old would be partially offended by the silence but, for some reason he wasn't. This man radiated a sense of secrecy, making it seem like everything he uttered was meant to be kept confidential. Psalm clicked his tongue and tilted his head in contemplation. It's probably just the suit.

"Table for one?" Another nod, this time Psalm didn't dwell on it. He grabbed a few menus fingerprint ingrained menus from the hostess podium and tilted his head towards the seating area. Psalm knew exactly where to put him and led the man to a table in the far back of the diner.

Formerly, they'd reserved it for larger parties but they hadn't had a six top table in months. So, Mr. Piggoli turned it into a room of 'high rollers' or people who looked like they left more than a five dollar tip.

"Private table," the boy grinned as his customer took a seat in the creaking, half cracked chair. Psalm resisted a cringe and set the menu in front of him quickly, pulling his notepad out from his crusted apron.

"Anything to drink?" The man sat quietly for a moment, staring at nothing. His golden blonde hair twinkle in the low lights above them. It looked fluffy and well conditioned. Psalm almost unconsciously felt his own. He knew the black strands would be matted and tangled. He hadn't found a place with free shampoo in weeks.

The man's deep monotone voice dragged him away from his thoughts. "Water," he grunted, shrugging off his suit jacket. "And a black coffee with two sugars."

"Alright," Psalm quickly jotted it down on his spider-man sticker-covered notepad. He noticed the man eyeing it strangely and resisted an embarrassed flush. "I-I'll go grab that just give me-"