As if right on cue a few minutes later my cell rang again.
"Good news!" she squealed, "I was just on the phone with a friend, and I've got the perfect job for you!"
I didn't know whether to be relieved or worried.
"What is it?"
"You can even start today!" she continued, "And they have flexible hours so you don't even have to worry about your shifts conflicting with your practices!"
"What is it, Bea?" I asked again, my voice monotone.
"Kat, do you know how to skate?"
I did, as a matter of fact. My aunt used to take me out to a rink every winter, and in combination with my ballet it caught on quickly.
"Yeah. So what?"
She chuckled uneasily.
"Great! You start in an hour!"
Bea recited an address and then hung up. I tried calling her back but I could tell she'd turned her phone off. I rolled my eyes and wrote down the address, wondering what she'd gotten me into that time.
If it was some kind of strip club I'd strangle her to death.
It wasn't a strip club. Actually, it wasn't half as bad as it could have been. Except for the uniform.
I looked down at myself, the black tank on top of the frilly black and pink mini miniskirt. I had a matching garter on my thigh, and my new coworker, similarly dressed, handed me a pair of rollerblades.
"You have to wear these at all times. I don't care if your feet hurt or you're dizzy, keep them on."
She was shorter than me, with dirty blonde hair cut into a bob. I think her name was Miranda or something.
I sat on one of the high, cherry red stools and pulled them onto my feet. It felt a little different from ice skating but I was sure I could get the hang of it quickly.
"Okay," Miranda said, handing me a notebook and pen, "You take orders, tell them to the chef and then go and hand the food out. No dawdling, no smoking and no messing up the orders."
I nodded, feeling like I was a kid in school again.
"And remember," she said, "Keep the skates on. We have an image, know what I mean?"
I did, in fact. Frisco's Diner was styled completely out of the 50s, with booths and a bar and a jukebox in the corner. Oh, and half of a vintage car sticking out of the wall.
It was clean and put-together though, so I couldn't argue.
"Got it boss."
She threw some ribbons onto the counter.
"And tie your hair up, we don't want any falling into a person's food. You keep your tips, but leave a tally of them so I know what kind of a job you're doing. Rack up enough tips and you might get a raise."
"Oh, and remember to smile. The dinner rush will hit in a bit."
I watched her skate effortlessly off, wiping a table with a towel.
I picked up the ribbons and tied my hair into two pigtails again, figuring I might as well make use of Bea's curling prowess again.
I had managed to drop by her place for a bit, but only long enough to grab myself a bit of candy and try and badger her about the job. She didn't say a thing. I popped a few double bubbles into my mouth, surveying my surroundings.
The place was empty then, but I felt uneasy about weaving through tables and people with a tray in my hands. Especially in my racy little carhop outfit.
Well, considering the amount of time I'd spent as a rabbit, I was probably not going to have any modesty problems. I had to admit Bea's scheming had made me confident in my own skin. When most of it was showing, I mean.
I wondered briefly if she had planned for that all along, but quickly put it out of my mind. Beatrice was smart, I'd give her that, but she wasn't the plotting type.