She raises a plucked eyebrow at me, then glances out to my table. "Oh, I see. Darlin', that man is a gift from the Universe. He is your birthday present, all wrapped up in silk and satin. You must give him your number!"

"No way. Definitely not my type."

"Really? Tall, dark, and sexy as sin isn't your type? Pray tell what is?" She leans closer to me, and I can smell her expensive perfume. "Look, honey. You are the closest thing to a virgin The Roxy has ever seen over the age of sixteen. You need to get some before you shrivel up."

I puff out my chest in mock offense. "I am not a virgin!"

She rolls her eyes. "High school boys behind the bleachers do not count. Now get that man something delicious to eat, and I'm not talking about anything from our menu."

Despite my bold words, I blush, because she's not wrong. For a waitress at The Roxy, I'm woefully inexperienced when it comes to men.

But right now, time is ticking, my other tables are filling up, and I need to figure out what to feed this strange man, when my eyes land on my birthday cake. I cut a slice and bring it out to him. His eyes crinkle when he sees it. "Good choice," he says.

"It's my birthday cake," I spurt out. Because I'm a five-year-old with her first kindergarten crush, apparently.

"Happy birthday," he says, taking a big bite out of the cake. "My brother would love this place. Just decadent enough for him."

"You don't enjoy decadence?" I ask.

"I prefer to stay on task, to not get distracted by temporary pleasures. What about you, Arianna? What do you enjoy?"

I narrow my eyes. "How do you know my name?" We don't wear name tags at The Roxy.

"I heard your coworker mention it," he says without pause. "But you didn't answer my question. What do you enjoy?"

"Customers who tip big," I say, turning on my heel to walk away. I hear him chuckle as I stop to take the order of my next table.

When I come back, he's gone, only one bite missing from his cake. But he left a stack of twenty-dollar bills under the water glass, with a business card. I stare at it in disbelief, then count it quickly. Three hundred dollars? For a slice of cake? My breath hitches. Was this on purpose? Who is this guy? I pick up the card and study it. It's heavy card stock with engraved silver writing. No name, just a phone number and a hand-written note that says, "See you soon," in a formal cursive style in thick black ink. I stick the card and money in my pocket as a drunken man across the diner kicks the juke box.

Es deals with him, explaining with hand on hip the appropriate Roxy behavior. I catch her eye and gesture to the back, then escape the customers.

She finds me hovering over the remains of my birthday cake, staring at the money.

"Oh my! Did that sexy thing leave that for you?"

I nod, still unable to speak.

"And did you give him your number? Tell me you gave him your number!"

I shake my head. "But he gave me his." I show her the card.

She whistles under her breath. "Girlfriend, you had better call him. If you don't, I will."

I peel off a few twenties and slip them in Es's hand. "For your fund."

Her eyes fill with tears and she sniffs as she delicately brushes them away. "What are you doing, girl? Do you know how long it takes me to do my face? You can't give me this. You need it too much."

I shake my head. "Es, you've been saving for your gender reassignment surgery for years. I'm just doing my small part to help. You'll get there." She's on the hormones and she had the breast augmentation done, but there's one last piece to her transition that she hasn't been able to afford yet, and she's desperate to.

She hugs me, then flits away, mumbling about reapplying her mascara. I smile, and pick up an order for one of my tables.

The rest of my shift flies by, and my feet and back are sore when morning breaks. Es kisses my cheek and slips a small box into my hand as I leave. "Happy Birthday," she says.

I thank her and open the box. Inside is a pendant on a silver chain. The stone is beautiful— a blend of greens and blues. I slip it over my head.

"Pete said you'd need it.  It's labradorite. It's protection against psychic vampirism, and it will help awaken your own powers."

I don't buy into most of that stuff, but I keep the pendant on as I walk back to my apartment. There's ice on the ground, the rain freezing in the dropping temperatures. I'm careful as I walk, and I pull my thin jacket around my body, trying to stay a little dry. It doesn't work. I'll need to budget for a new winter coat soon. I remember the wad of cash in my pocket and smile despite the cold.

I'm halfway home when once again I feel the presence of someone following me. This time, I don't try to run. Instead, I turn, pepper spray in hand, and challenge my invisible stalker. "Who's there? What do you want?"

I wait, my legs shoulder-width apart, fighting stance ready. I hear nothing, see nothing. Feeling foolish, I retrace my steps, but it's misty and I can't see much. "I know you're there!"

My voice sounds so loud, so crass in the silent, pre-dawn morning.

Still, nothing.

I sigh and turn, walking briskly to my apartment.

The rest of the world will be waking up for their weekend soon, but my eyes are heavy, and I'm ready for bed. Then I remember I promised my mom we'd get something to eat. I yawn, stretch and try to wake myself up as I open the door. "Mom! I'm home. I'm just going to shower and change and then we can go out."