Beach City Grill, Santa Cruz, CA, Friday afternoon

[lovemykilt]

The Priestly who came into the Beach City Grill that afternoon was not the usual Priestly coming in for a twelve inch roast turkey sub and good company. For one thing, his hair was the same color it was yesterday, and slightly flattened in the back. For another, he didn't announce his arrival at the top of his lungs.

But most importantly, his eyes were downcast and his shoulders were slumped. He barely even said hi to his fellow regular, Mr. Julius, who was parked in his usual seat by the window. He knew the look he gave Trucker when he looked up was probably pretty pathetic.

He couldn't help it. The world was ending.

"Priestly." Trucker was being as friendly, warm, and cool as usual, and that totally didn't help. "How'd it go? Do I get my new short order cook?"

Priestly shook his head, crossed his arms on the counter, and thunked his head down on top of them. "No dice, man. Apparently this place is a 'bad influence' and wouldn't be a serious enough job to 'straighten me out'."

"Don't tell me they've forbidden you from coming."

Priestly groaned. "Worse." He was whining. He picked his head up and looked pleadingly at Trucker. "They're sending me to boarding school!"

"What a wonderful idea," Mr. Julius said. Priestly glared at him. "I have some fond memories of boarding school, myself."

"Mr. Julius," Trucker said warningly. He put a hand on Priestly's shoulder. "Hey, it won't be that bad."

"Won't be that bad?" Priestly straightened, brows lowering in scorn. "It's boarding school. On the east coast! Where people are all uptight and still remember being British!"

Trucker laughed. "But you've only got a year and a half till you graduate."

"A year and a half!" Priestly put his head back down on his arms. "That's practically forever, man!"

"Do they require uniforms?" Mr. Julius asked. "You wouldn't look half bad in a blue blazer."

Priestly's eyes widened. "I don't know." He scowled. "They're not making me cut my hair or shave, though. Screw that."

Trucker patted him on the shoulder again. "Tell you what. When you're back in town, for the summer or whatever, you'll still have a job here."

"Dude, even you can't go that long without a cook."

"You'll always have a place here, Priestly," Trucker repeated, leaning forward to catch Priestly's eyes. "How long till you leave?"

"Just a couple hours. I'm supposed to be there by tomorrow."

"How about a roast turkey sub on the house? Then we'll hit the beach, maybe stop by the new crystal shop across the street, get you something to take with you."

"Really?" Priestly managed a small smile. "But you gotta work, man."

"Lucky thing about being the boss, I get to decide if I'm working or not. Mr. Julius is our only customer right now, and I'm sure he won't mind."

"Not at all," offered Mr. Julius. He might be a bit of a stick in the mud about the look Priestly's adopted over the past six months, but he was generally a decent guy.

Priestly nodded. "Can I drive the Cosmobile?"

"Just down to the beach and back," Trucker said. "And I'm picking the music."

"Alright. Cool, man." Priestly sighed. "A last hurrah. But you're not getting me on a surf board."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

[ooc: NFB, NFI, too far away and all that. WHY IS IT NOT TOMORROW, YET?]