Say my Name ~Frankie

[dinah]

x.X.xx.X.x

Hannah Kyle had been on her feet for seven hours so far that day, and since she was pulling a double, a break was not in her future. Of her two jobs, this was easily her least favorite. The uniform was an ugly yellow, they made her put her first name on the tag, at least once a day some asshole tried to grab her ass. Honestly, it sort of made her miss Jersey.

Sort of.

Bringing various trays to various tables was a mind numbing chore, and the highlight of her shift was giving a customer diet coke instead of regular. The movie Waiting is a lie. You don't get to do fucked up shit to food when your customers are a dick on purpose. You just have to sit there, you just have to take it. It was a whole lot of bull honky. The worsts were old people and children. Old people were the finickiest eaters on the planet, and they did it in an 'I'm so sweet and old' voice that made it impossible to be a dick back. And children, those little monsters. Other than being messy, rude, prone to vomiting, loud, and sticky. They were stupid. Nothing against kids, but she wanted to punch one every time she heard 'Cheeseburger but wiff no cheese, please.'

She actually liked them quite a bit off duty.

Wiping off one of the tables, she saw yet another customer walk in. Go figure, at her table, right as she was considering a break. Asshole. Putting on her biggest smile, Hannah walked over to him, pulling her note pad up. "Hello, I'm Ky- I'm Hannah, and I'll be your server today. Soup of the day is french onion, and our burgers are the best this side of Manhattan. What can I do you for?" The cheery tone was marred slightly by the pain radiating up from her feet, and the impatient tap of her gulf pencil against the paper pad.

Please, please, don't just want coffee.

Please, please, be a good tipper.

At least he was easy on the eyes. Attractive customers did make her job slightly easier, though it wasn't ever enough for her to forgive the fact that she had to deal with them. For the twentieth time that day, Hannah Kyle considered quitting the job she hated so much. But she couldn't, and she knew she couldn't. But it was nice to dream, wasn't it? Helped the long, dragging, horrible, God she just wanted to go home and curl in her bed, day.

Keeping the smile on her full lips, she waited to take another fucking order.

xx

[FRANKIE VULPINI]

Generally speaking, Frankie made it a rule to stay as far away from family establishments as possible.

First, there were the kids. Whiny, sticky, loud, and just plain fucking annoying on a good day, the bad days only made him want to pick them all up one by one and throw them out the windows. Franklin Vulpini had never been much for patience.

Then, there was the food. Greasy, generally speaking—not that he minded a good slider from time to time—and never quite enough to fully satisfy, like they were trying to tease him with a meager portion of something halfway decent.

And really, the scenery sucked. Still, he was hungry, and food was food and a place to sit was a place to sit; he really wasn’t in the mood to deal with Rat or even Hannah at the moment (at least, not together), so the apartment definitely wasn’t an option. He’d never been in here before—couldn’t even remember what it was called, to be honest—but there was something slightly charming about the place, as much as he hated to admit it. Certainly, it had nothing to do with the red and yellow uniforms; at first glance, all the waitresses looked as though they could be auditioning some manner of sick, “classy” McDonald’s skit. The sight of them in those unflattering skirts that seemed to grip in all the wrong curves was almost enough to make him turn tail and walk straight out.

But only almost. Food was a necessity, after all.

So, he sat. And he waited, biting the inside of his cheek as he flipped through the paper menu on the table, unable to help but feel slightly grateful for the decided lack of under twelve-year olds within his vicinity. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that it was two o’clock on a week day, maybe it didn’t. He didn’t much mind, so long as none showed up.

He heard the waitress, the clicking of her shoes against the faux wood floors as she made her way to his table. He didn’t look up. Not until she introduced herself; and then, it was more of a double take than anything else, really.

But his sister Hannah didn’t have a twin—and certainly not one with the exact same name. For a moment, Frankie just stared, mouth open about a half centimeter in what could only be described as dumbfounded shock. Then, just as suddenly as he’d second guessed himself, his mouth snapped shut. He smiled, charming, and was unable to help but notice how somehow, this girl managed to pull off an outfit that did no favors for literally everyone else in the room. But it wasn’t the name, surely. And it wasn’t the uncanny similarities he couldn’t help but note with the other Hannah he knew so well—the hair, the eyes; it was freakish. She was gorgeous.

“It’s a pleasure, Hannah,” he offered a small nod before going ahead with his order, made up after one more quick glance and folding of the menu. “I’ll have a burger with everything, no onions, fries, and a Coke. Or a Pepsi, if that’s what you’ve got.” He shrugged noncommittally before finishing in a very polite, easy tone that, when paired with the friendly glint in his eyes, anyone who knew him would have insisted meant he had an imposter. “And uh, the burger—sorry, but you can make that medium rare? Thanks.”