There was a sickening thought swirling around Alexander's mind as he stood outside the diner she worked at—one of her many jobs. Her head stooped over, her lids drooping in exhaustion. She slowly fell asleep standing up, clearly overworked and underpaid. A human could only take so much after all. Dark circles collected under her eyes, her complexion pallid and grey. No...she couldn't go much longer, not like this. He opened the door to the desolate diner, the seats cracking and distressed from years of use, and later, years of abandonment. Alexander walked in, the fatigued, rusted bell, alerting her to his presence. The truth was, Alexander had lost sleep, worrying about this young woman. The deal he made was haphazard and silly, a regret that never seemed to vanish, an eternal devil on his shoulder.

The woman narrowed her eyes at him, but stood behind the counter, ignoring his presence. He picked up the menus, grimacing at the worn, sticky table. A greasy spoon seemed an apt description.

Alexander eventually cleared his throat discreetly calling her over. With a roll of her eyes and heavy, telling sigh, she walked over, standing in front of him in the diner's outdated uniform. She donned a name tag that said Shirley, which he suspected, was it's previous owner's and the diner could not be bothered to order a new one.

"Hello...Shirley. I'll have a black coffee."

Audrey blinked before heaving a sigh. "What are you doing here, Mr. Remington?" 

Alexander examined her, before shrugging, nodding at the menu. "I'm ordering a black coffee, Shirley."

"Okay," She scoffed. "Cut the shit. I gave you your money this month. What do you want?"

Alexander didn't know. Maybe he wanted to alleviate his guilt, by seeing her alive and well, and even happy. But this post-apocalyptic esque diner was not helping, and guilt twisted further in his stomach, snaking around his intestines and squeezing. He hadn't had a good shit since he signed that crooked deal. He knew it was ironic, but it was ruining his life. A man needed a good regular, satisfying shit. 

"Are you...doing well?"

Audrey's lip turned up in disgust. "Are you...doing crack? I had to give up school, to work three, dead-end, minimum wage jobs just to pay a debt that isn't mine. I live in a shitty apartment with carpet that used to be white, but is now perpetually shit brown, no matter how much I vacuum, not that I see it, because I spend almost every day of my life, in one of these shitty fucking--"

The bell rung and Audrey grinned. "Welcome to the Greasy Spoon! Have a seat I'll be right with ya."

Her smile dropped, and so did her voice, as she stared at him. "So keep your fucking platitudes to yourself Remington Steel. And stay out of this diner, the Target on fifth, and that shitty boutique on Maine. Got it?"

Alexander blinked. "You're way too young to know what Remington Steel even is," He said finally. "But I appreciate the reference."

She scoffed. "I'll be right back with your coffee," She muttered, heading over to the other table.

 Alexander watched her. He could almost feel his shit sucking itself back up. He touched his stomach and narrowed his eyes. He needed to fix this. Or at least find a reason not to care. Whichever was easiest, and made him the most money. With a silent groan to himself, Alexander ran his hands through his pitch black hair, noting that Audrey had returned, and forcefully set a scalding hot coffee in front of him, packaged in a foam cup with the words to go, scrawled over the side.

He chuckled, as she slammed the receipt down with a facetious smile. "Have a great day, sir." She smiled forcefully.

"Oh, Shirley? We have some things to discuss."

Audrey sighed, sliding into the booth instantly heaving a sigh as if it were the first time she'd sat in forever. She shifted, looking at him expectantly.

Alexander cleared his throat, his grey eyes zeroing in on her. "I want to make this easier for you. How about a break? A month or two off?"

Audrey just sighed. "I'll just owe you longer."

"Then maybe I could give you a job. With pay high enough you'd only have to work one? Something with a seat that doesn't have gum under it," he suggested, his ring glinting under the light. It flickered. Audrey blinked, and then her eyes snapped open. She looked around.

"I'll just owe you for that too," She grumbled. "I gotta go."

Alexander took her hand, stopping her in her tracks.

"I...I think you need a break, Audrey. You don't seem to have much longer. You'll work yourself into an early grave."

Audrey's lips turn up. "Oh...you don't care about that. You just don't want to feel responsible."

She pulled herself from his grasp. "Well...you are. You took a deal, and I signed myself away to you. So maybe I will die tragically young, paying you back money you very clearly," her eyes swept his expensive suit. "Don't need. But I think I'll go in peace knowing you won't sleep well. At least for a while."

Alexander scoffed. How vindictive. How ruthless, and somewhat cruel, to hope for death just to afflict someone else. 

"Then...what if I put your debt on hold? Indefinitely."

Audrey stopped, glancing back at him. "And why would you do that?"

And he could've said this whole unsavory business was ruining his digestive health, and he simply couldn't even look at another activia. He also could've told her that at that moment, he could feel his suit beginning to adhere to whatever oil was left from people who frequented places like this, and he felt quite sick, so sick in fact, that he would do, say, and give anything just to leave this hellhole someone decided deserved the title of diner.

Instead, he just smiled. "You're my investment, Audrey Williams. I've invested 50 thousand dollars into you. In order to see my investment fully returned, first, we'll have to improve your lot in life." 

He stood.

"I don't owe you 50 grand anymore. It's 17, 857 now."

Alexander nodded. "Yes. But the way you're going, I doubt you'll make it to tomorrow. The full amount your father owed me was 500 grand. The investment went bad, but you're made of different material than him."

He slid out of the booth, wincing as the booth stuck to him, unwilling, it seemed to let him go. he would be burning this later.

"17 thousand is manageable. How about this," He went into his wallet, passing, debating whether to put it on the sticky table. he opted for her hands. "Pick a college. Pick a major. I'll pay for it, help you get a job in the field."

Audrey stared down at the matte black card, on paper probably worth more than she got paid an hour, the gold embossed letters catching the grainy light. "What's the catch," She asked breathlessly.

He shrugged. "Double your remaining loan, and extend your...agreement with me, another five years. It's less than student loans. Consildated. You'd only owe me. And I won't collect until after your graduate, and have a job, a good one."

Audrey frowned. Owe him more? Just when she'd finally gotten out of the hole? That would be stupid. There was no reason to do that, not even for a pipe dream like he was selling.

"Essentially, Audrey, I'm asking you to bet on yourself. If you think, with proper support, you can be successful, take my offer. But if you don't think you've got the right stuff..." He trailed, walking past her, leaving her in a cloud of his cologne.

He paused by the door. "Your father was a lousy businessman. But I think you see a good investment when you see it."

Chimes marked his exit, her eyes focused on that card. 

"Waitress?"

Audrey shook her head, tucking the card into her pocket. That was a dream. Waitress was her reality.