I shake my head, refocusing on taking their order and hurrying away from this damn table. These guys set my hormones on fire, and these girls set my anger on DEFCON 2, neither of which I can afford. So, I repeat my question. “Are you all ready to order?”
“Let me get the Mahi tuna salad with no dressing and a side of truffle fries,” the blonde says.
Sam looks at her like she has sprouted a third eye.
“Seriously, Summer, are you trying to lose weight or get fat? You already have that lard ass and far too big tits to worry about. You know cheerleading started, and our uniforms are unforgiving this year.”
Summer looks well chastised and begins to turn about eight shades of red, making the freckles that line her nose more pronounced. I roll my eyes. Summer is far from anything called fat, and even if she was, so the fuck what?
I hate these types of girls. They are worse than diet culture, creating body image issues and eating disorders. I’m getting ready to say something, but I remember I have no dog in this fight.
Summer mumbles, “You’re right,” and looks at me. “Um, nix the fries and instead of the Mahi tuna, let me just get wild mixed greens with no dressing, cheese, or avocado.”
Sam smiles triumphantly as she and the rest of her group order the exact thing.
Thank fuck, I don’t care about shit like this.
Thick thighs save lives.
There’s watching what you eat to ensure your meals are balanced, and then there’s whatever the fuck these idiots are doing. I jot down the rest of their orders and get as far away from them as I can possibly get.
“Oh, I see you got the Elites’ table,” Lola says when I walk into the kitchen to pick up their order.
I sigh. “Yup.”
Biting the corner of her lip as she scrunches her nose, making her eyes squint, she warns, “Well, just make sure you don’t fuck anything up. The guys aren’t too bad, but those girls are like hell on earth if you mess their orders up. The girl who used to have your position messed up the one with the black hair’s order-“
I interrupt her, “Sam?”
She nods before continuing, “Yup, her. She pitched a fit because her burger came on a bun. She got Ana fired, and her whole family was blacklisted from being able to work here or in all surrounding towns. The poor girl’s family had to move across the country.”
Of course she did because that bitch is vindictive. I needed another word for her because I think she far surpasses bitch behavior.
“Seriously? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, I had my own run-in with them today, and it seems pretty on par with their attitudes.”
Lola looks like she wants to ask me more about it, but she gets called away.
While waiting for their food to finish, I check on my other tables, but my eyes keep tracking back to their table.
Rowan is quiet but brooding as Sam feels him up like she’s trying to become his second skin, rubbing her body against his and petting him like he’s a dog. Liam, Wy, and Karl look like they want to be anywhere but at the table with these girls.
If I cared enough, I might make a mental note. Instead, I hand the check to one of my last tables for the night and then head to the back to pick up ‘The Elites” food.
I’m almost to the kitchen when Mary stops me. “I’ve made changes to your schedule. I don’t want you working this late during the school year.” The corners of her soft, tawny-brown eyes crinkle in concern as she assesses me. She doesn’t know the full extent of my living situation, but she knows I’m always working and have my siblings when I’m not.
I nod, appreciating her willingness to accommodate me, and glad I didn’t have to ask, because I wouldn’t. I need this job too much to complain.
Reaching for my hand and squeezing, she adds, “Don’t forget to take some of the pie home for the kids. You know how much those boys love my apple crumble pie.”
“Thank you, Mary,” I reply, smiling, so grateful for her kindness, before walking to the kitchen to pick food for the Elites.
I mumble over and over under my breath, “Let me not stab anyone in the eye or smack a bitch with my tray,” as I make my way out to the dining room.
As I approach, I slap my customer-service smile back on, and place their orders in front of them. After, I say, “Is there anything else I can get you all?” I pray they’ll take their food and shut up, so I can be on my way. Of course, that would be too much to ask, though, especially from Sam, who I am convinced hates me for the sake of hating me.
“Yes, you can scurry your ass back to the trash from where you came. Your presence lowers the value of our foo,” she snipes, and titters with her flunkies following suit.
I hope this bitch chokes on a piece of lettuce. It’d be doing the world a service.
“If there is nothing else, I’ll leave you all to enjoy your meals and will check back in with you to see if you need anything,” I say, with a level of graciousness I didn’t even know I had.
As I turn to walk away, a hand reaches out and grabs my wrist to stop my forward progress.
“Why are you in such a hurry to leave, Angel?” says a voice that can only be described as what it feels like to sit in front of a fireplace wrapped in a warm blanket reading your favorite book. It’s so rich and deep that goosebumps rise along my arms up to my neck, dancing at the inflection of his tone.
I look into his haunted cognac eyes as his tongue plays with the metal of his lip ring.
Sweet lord! I thought he was a sight to behold when he was seated. I can see ink peeking out from under his collar.
Pierced and inked…yummy.
Setting my shoulders back, I lift my gaze from the now smirking ass and state, “I need to finish my side work, so I can head home.”
I’m proud of how firm my voice sounds. It certainly doesn’t match the shocks to my system from where his calloused thumb rubs circles in my flushed skin.
Oh no, there will be no swoon in this bitch. I look to where his hand is still touching my wrist. Noticing the tautness of my gaze, he drops his hand, but not before trailing the tip of his finger up my arm, causing a twitch in my jaw as I try to mask his effect on me.
I start to move again and notice he is still walking with me.
“Is there-“
“Listen-“
We both begin to speak simultaneously, leading him to laugh.
“You first,” I say with a small smile, knowing I’m beginning to blush pink.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.