Richer Ground Read Free Page B

the counter. The room was empty apart from her.
    Mrs Simpson made her way over to her.
    “Cheryl dear, I'm glad I've caught you while you're not busy. Would you mind showing Alista the ropes for a while? She wants to get some more experience here.”
    Cheryl gave Alista a look which clearly said 'you creep'.
    “Okay Wendy. Will do,” she replied cheerfully, in a very common accent.
    Ali raised her eyebrows at her chummy first name reply.
    Mrs Simpson turned to go.
    “Thank you Mrs Simpson,” Ali said respectfully and pointedly.
    “Oh call me Wendy, Alista. We're one big happy family here,” she laughed, and tottered off on her sky high red patent heels, her black silk suit rustling as she walked.
    “What's your game?” Cheryl wasted no time getting her point across.
    “I want to find out what goes on in a place like this, that's all.”
    “I need this job, I've got twins,” Cheryl added with a desperate look in her eye.
    “Oh no... I'm happy in the bar. I don't want to take your job! Is that what you thought?”
    Cheryl relaxed instantly.
    “Kinda. And it suits me here. The hours are good.”
    “How old are your twins?”
    “Two and a half.”
    “It must be hard work.”
    “You're telling me. The little bastards run me ragged. I wish my husband was home more.”
    “Where is he?”
    “He works on a cruise ship. He plays piano in the bar.”
    “That's hard on you both, I guess?”
    “Yeah, I miss him. A lot.” To Alista's horror Cheryl's eyes began to fill up and she started to cry.
    “Oh God... I'm sorry, did I set you off?” She was mortified. She gave her a tight hug around the shoulders and rubbed her arm.
    “No… I'm just dog tired, and everything sets me off. The twins don't sleep very well and looking after them and the house and whatever drags me down at times. Make sure you marry a rich man, my girl. Don't struggle all your life if you can help it.” She walked off behind the counter to get a tissue and blew her nose noisily. She tossed her an apron. “There, put that on.”
    Alista held it up. It was the same bright red one Cheryl was wearing, with a white Medusa head full of writhing snakes. Alista wasn't sure it was the best name for an eatery, but anyways. She swapped aprons and joined her behind the counter. In between stopping half a dozen times, for Cheryl to serve customers, she managed to learn how to use the coffee machine, make tea, use the fast heat induction oven, and various other bits and pieces.
    Cheryl sent her off to clear and clean tables and finally she got to serve her first customer. He was an older gentleman, wearing a very traditional brightly coloured golf outfit which was highly amusing. She made and served him his espresso and a slice of Victoria sponge cake with a sweet smile. He grinned back from ear to ear and winked at her and then blew her a lusty kiss.
    “Monty, you old goat...!” Cheryl giggled. “Put it back in your pants, will you?”
    Alista blushed crimson and Cheryl was off in hysterics.
    “Don't mind me. I'm an old flirt,” he said guffawing, shuffling away with his cup and plate and treating her to another wink over his shoulder as he left.
    “The oldies are worse than the young 'uns 'ere. I tell 'ya,” Cheryl said with a sigh.
    At that moment a tall young blond guy appeared through the door, haw-hawing in a real Hooray Henry manner. He dumped his golf bag by the door with a loud thump. She'd seen him in the bar last Saturday, with a gang of other Henrys and Henriettas... all braying with Champagne inebriated laughter and awash with crystal accents.  Alista sighed when she saw who was coming in behind him.
    Bloody typical. Birds of a feather.
    Having said that, Richer wasn't the braying type. He had a nice laugh and a sexy cultured voice. Nothing like this one.
    “Ricky boy, what'll it be?” Hooray asked him as he looked at the cakes, running his tongue over his fat lips hungrily.
    Richer placed his bag next to Hooray's and walked up to the