the ghost of bettie page"Hello, my name is Bettie" read the nametag on the apron of Family Restaurant's youngest waitress. What had started as a joke in her interview had spread until even her manager addressed her as "Miss Page" and payroll wrote half her checks in the wrong name. It had all been rather funny until the name flowed past work and into her private life.More Like This
Still, Bettie did her best to smile and survive until her cigarette break, cursing the new smoking ban all the while. Customers loved her perfectly styled black hair and her vast collection of fascinators, after all, and she raked in the best tips in the diner. She left red lipstick prints on every tab and fluttered heavily mascara'd lashes at good-looking young men to pay for school.
She felt like a whore.
Yesterday, one of her good-looking young men got a little too free with his hands; Bettie had to work to keep her smile up while she gave him a teasing rebuke that tore at her soul. Her manager hadn't noticed, but Bettie promised herself that