Bitchy Linda and her table are nearly finished with her scarfing down the last of her dressing on one limp lonely piece of lettuce, so I think it's almost dessert time, I grin.
Cashing out table 7, I wait a few more minutes when I see the large table is still talking and haven't even picked up their menus yet.
"How was everything?" I ask removing each husband's plate from Linda's table.
"It was okay," Linda shrugs. Of course... here we go. "But the salad wasn't very fresh," she sneers though she's just shy of licking her plate.
"Oh? You should've told me before you ate the entire meal. I would've gladly had the chef prepare another salad for you." Take the hint, Bitch.
"Well, I didn't want to cause a scene," she replies so seriously I almost start laughing. Cause a scene? She seems like her entire life is causing a scene, but whatever. I'm going to kill her... with kindness.
"I'd be happy to comp a dessert for you. Anything on the menu. We have New York cheesecake with a delicious dulce de leche, or a chocolate explosion volcano cake," I smile as she starts frowning. "Or our delicious homemade chocolate marble bread pudding with a sweet vanilla glaze that practically melts in your mouth. And last but not least, we have our to die for warmed caramel apple blossom," I smile sweetly knowing my words are absolute torture for her.
"Oh! I'll have the chocolate explosion cake," attractive sister grins as her husband nods he'll have one as well. Even Linda's husband gets in on it when he announces he's dying to try the Cheesecake which leaves poor, nonscene-causing Linda to either cave for dessert or hate everyone around her who'll be eating it.
"Just coffee for me," she exhales totally defeated which makes up for the nasty glares she's been giving me all night. "But you can comp my husband's dessert," she barks.
"Certainly," I nod walking away with a fuck you smile.
After entering the dessert orders and checking on table 7 who are finally leaving, I walk back to the bar for the 8 drinks Mike has already placed on a heavy tray for me.
Stepping up to the table, I begin where I started. Walking behind each man I place his drink to his front right side listening to the first table talk about a baseball game they saw. When I make it down to the other end of the table I listen to 3 men discussing some local married politician who was caught cheating on his wife. Of course he did, I almost sneer.
Throughout the drink delivery they were all polite and thanked me so I think it should be okay for me tonight. Though you never can tell how well or poorly behaved a group of drinking men will be long term.
"Would everyone like a little more time, or are you ready to order?" I ask just loudly enough to stop the first table from talking as they all look around at each other.
"Probably a few more minutes," a large, intimidating guy in the middle suggests as they all begin speaking to each other again.
"I'll be back in a few minutes then," I nod walking to the bar for the bills for tables 1 and 6 just as another couple are escorted in by Kelsey to my section holding hands.
Greeting the new couple, they tell me their drink and food orders immediately because they're on their way to a late movie. I love these tables- they're less work and the tips are typically the same as when I have to spend 2 hours with them.
Looking around, 7 and 1 finally leave, 6 is finishing their coffee stilllllll, my new table 2 has drinks, and shitty table 4 are finally standing to leave with Linda looking as miserable as ever.
Walking over to wish them a wonderful night, Linda's husband slips another $20 in my hand which is weird considering he already left me a large tip on the bill. Then again, with his smirky smile I know he's apologizing for his wife's behavior. Even hot sister smiles warmly at me and wishes me a good night when Linda leaves the side exit quickly.
Good riddance. Though I did just make a fortune in tips from the rest of her table, it still wasn't worth dealing with the death glares all night. It definitely helps though, I smile to myself.
Placing my new table's drinks, I walk back to table 6 and ask finally if there's anything else I can get them. I've been working for over 2 hours, and they were there before I even began. I mean, you don't have to eat and run, but seriously, is the quiet, darker, soothing atmosphere here that nice, that you have to spend a few hours of your life here? Ah yes, actually. I know I feel much better than I did when I started.
"What's going on with you? Did you tank your exam?" Mike asks with a grin knowing there's no way I would ever tank it.
"Can I talk to you later? Now really isn't the best time for anyone," I beg forcing myself to keep it together at work.
Looking at me sadly, Mike reaches over to squeeze my hand. "Later," he nods. "Go take orders and in an hour you should be good to wind down," he nods toward my big table.
"I'm okay," I sigh turning for my big table.
Think of the tips. Think of the individual bills. Think of the tips, I inhale deeply as I walk over.
"Are you all ready to order now?" I ask from the head of the table once again. Speaking a little louder than usual to hopefully shut them up I pray they'll order this time.
When middle of the table man nods, he speaks louder than I did and gets all their attention for me... and 8 orders later I'm done. Relatively painless and with few pauses each of the 8 men ordered, asked for another drink, and were perfectly polite to my professionally detached.
One thing I will say about men ordering meals is they typically want exactly what's on the menu. There are no dips or dressings on the side, no alternate swaps of one vegetable for another, and no questions about baking versus frying. Generally, a man points to an item and moves on which makes my job easier.
Walking back to the bar, Mike scooches over so I can input all my orders into the computer. "Are we celebrating tonight?" He bumps shoulders with me.
"Nope. I'm crashing," I answer too quickly which gives me away.
Bumping my shoulder a second time, he keeps going. "But you always celebrate after a big exam. That's the only time you usually celebrate," he grins because it’s a joke around here how little I drink or party.
Tyler never said I was too serious but apparently he must've felt it. Was I too boring? Was that what made her so attractive to him?
After entering the last order in the computer, I pull the drinks chit for Mike and lean into his side for a little of Mike's much needed kindness.
"This one is huge and I'm trying to keep it together tonight."
Pulling the slip from my fingers, Mike gives me a little side hug and relents. "Okay. I'll stop asking for now."
Grabbing the 4 beers ordered for the guy table, Mike starts the mixed drinks in silence as I wait. Looking around the bar area, I know I can kill time bussing the empty tables but my earlier angry adrenaline is fading fast and I'm becoming slower and sadder as the minutes pass. The weight of my reality is starting to settle in and I'm feeling totally overwhelmed by it.
Once Mike finishes the drinks, I thank him and grab my full tray to continue knowing he's watching my delivery to make sure everything stays professional for me.
"Go take a break," Mike tosses his head to the back when I place the empty tray on the bar. "Table 2 is eating and your men are settled in for the food wait. Go now before their orders are up."
"Please don't call them my men," I groan. "I can't stand one man right now, never mind 8 of them. But I'll go freshen up quickly," I agree already turning for the employee lounge and bathroom.
Sitting on the couch, I realize my mistake immediately. Here in the quiet alone of our employee lounge, my thoughts are too loud. I keep seeing Tyler having sex and I keep hearing why he did it.
I believe I did nothing wrong, as confirmed by Tyler, but I can't seem to take comfort in that. Maybe I should, but it's still too new and raw for me. I can't find comfort in my blamelessness because I'm the only one hurting and alone.
They have each other, and I'm essentially homeless, loveless, and I feel such pain in my chest, I swear I can't take a
deep breath without my ribs feeling as though they might crack under the strain.
Sadly, I realize I'm totally alone for the first time in 4 years, and I ache with loneliness and despair.
*****
Walking back into the bar area I prepare for the final hours of my night knowing afterward I'll drive to the motel I rented and crash for 12 hours if I need to. I'm not scheduled back at the restaurant until 4 tomorrow afternoon which leaves me plenty of time to cry out this shitty reality I'm drowning in.
With Mike’s help from the kitchen, we each grab 3 plates for the men's table. Starting from my beginning end, I set down my plates carefully to thanks and pauses in conversations, point Mike to who gets which plate, and make my way back to the kitchen.
Gathering the last 2 plates for my table, I just lean slightly around the 3rd man from the right when I feel a hand suddenly up my skirt grabbing the lower part of my butt and upper thigh as I drop his plate with a loud crash on the table and a frightened yelp.
Gasping, I practically throw the last man his plate of food before I turn on the asshole.
"If you touch me again I'll have you arrested for sexual assault. Got it?" I seethe barely holding myself back as I spot Mike moving quickly from behind the bar.
"Calm down, Cherry. Don't talk to me-"
"Cherry? Who the hell is Cherry, Dickhead?" I yell before I can stop myself.
"Dickhead? Get the manager!" Dickhead barks as I smile wide. Good luck asshole. I think Mike saw him touch my ass so he's getting nowhere with the manager tonight.
"Holy shit, Keith. Stop being such an asshole!" The guy from the end yells as another man across from us stands up quickly from the table.
"She swore at me!" Dickhead says like a baby.
"And you grabbed her ass under her goddamn skirt. I'm so sorry, Miss," intimidating man says with standing guy nodding beside him while all the others take in the show quietly. "If you'll permit us to stay, I promise this dickhead," he grins at me, "will be on his best behavior."
When Mike is standing beside me, I suddenly feel a little less rattled. Actually, I really feel like slapping this asshole across the face but thankfully my intelligence wins out.
"I have a question before I decide," I state trying to calm my nerves. "For him," I point right at Dickhead's face who is so red he's either super pissed at me or totally embarrassed- it's hard to tell.
After speaking the standing good looking man agrees immediately. "Go ahead and ask him whatever you want. And again, we apologize," he adds with a kind smile while all the others either nod silently, or agree out loud.
So turning to Dickhead I ask my question. "Do you have a mother or sister?" And there's the look instantly. This always works and I always enjoy the immediate discomfort of an asshole looking like a deer in headlights. At least this one has the balls to man up though.
"Yes. Both actually," he kind of smirks like he knows where I'm headed with this.
"Okay... so your sister is working her ass off through school, paying her bills, paying huge student loans, fighting hard some days just to stay afloat, and she comes to you to explain her days." Pulling in a big breath, I know every single person at the table is staring at me, and I even feel Mike lean in a little closer to offer me support, I think.
"Your sister explains to you that in doing her job, a perfectly acceptable form of employment, not that it should matter what she does... Anyway, she tells you that in the course of her days, men- complete strangers- feel as though they can sexually harass and sexually assault her whenever they want to."
Suddenly crying, I wish I had held in the tears but sadly they're unavoidable. "Your sister tells you that though she behaves professional, dresses well, and invites NO sexual attention whatsoever- again, not that that should matter- but men feel like they can slip their hands up her skirt, grab half her ass and her thigh on her bare skin, scare the hell out of her and make her feel physically violated, and that's just the way it is?"
Wiping my cheeks with a quick sniff I try to finish this. "As her brother would you not find that horribly inappropriate, disgusting, and totally demeaning? Would you not want to help your sister? Maybe even punch a dickhead in the face who assaults her because he thinks it's funny, or cute, or whatever the hell he thinks? When in reality it makes her afraid of men and nervous of their behavior."
"Listen, I didn't mean-" Cutting him off, I quickly revise the question with my deeper, crying voice.
"Now tell me how you would feel if your own mother explained the exact same thing to you? If your mom came home, called you crying, and told you men touch her without asking, grope her without feeling, and then laugh at her when she feels violated, hurt, and frightened by them. How. Would. You. Feel?"
Looking quickly at Mike, I know I could be fired for this, maybe I even will be fired for this, but I couldn't stop myself. We're told when we start to take all sexual harassment incidents to the manager to deal with, but I don't care. And judging by Mike's angry face glaring at the dickhead, I don't think Mike thinks I'm wrong to ask my questions either.
After a moment of collective silence, when not one of the men begins eating, it's actually the big intimidating guy who stands and leans over the table toward me extending his hand even though I step back a little nervously.
Nodding sadly, he lowers his hand before speaking. "Please accept our apologies. Keith is leaving," he looks at Dickhead. "But if you'll permit the rest of us to stay, you'll have no more trouble from any of us tonight. We'll just eat and leave. You have my word."
When Dickhead looks like he's going to protest, the man whose food I practically threw at him says, "Fuck off, Keith. Leave her a huge fucking tip, pay for your food, and get the hell out of here. You've embarrassed not only yourself, but all of us tonight."
Taking a step back again, Dickhead rises, looks down at his plate, tosses some money from his wallet on the table, and does turn to me just as Mike steps in closer.
"I'm really sorry, Cherry. I-"
"Saige!" I snap angrily as someone else bangs their hand on the table.
"Saige," he repeats turning a little redder. "You've given me much to think about, and a call to make to my sister this evening," he nods soberly causing me to huff a little of the tension from my chest. "Please forgive my drunken behavior," he finishes before walking towards the restaurant area out of the lounge.
"And take a cab," one of the men yells as Dickhead nods his head but doesn't turn back toward us.
Looking around the table at all eyes on me, I feel so emotional suddenly I need to get the hell away from everyone, Mike included.
"Ah, if there isn't anything else, please enjoy your meals," I gasp as another cry bursts from my chest.
Practically running for the employee lounge I collapse on the couch and just bawl my eyes out. I haven't acted so emotional in all my life, and I haven't cried like such a psycho ever.
Then again, maybe that's another problem Tyler had with me. Maybe I was too calm for him- usually making all my arguments without any drama.
Remembering Kaitlyn going at me in my own home, I imagine she's a very different kind of woman than I am. She's much more aggressive and loud, I learned firsthand. So maybe the drama is what Tyler was missing with me? I have no idea anymore what it was.
All I do know is no man but Tyler has touched me in 4 years, and it scared the hell out of me when I felt that Dickhead's hand on my bare skin.
CHAPTER 5
"Manager or friend?" I'm asked by Mike standing in the doorway.
"Friend," I cry a little harder.
"Are you okay?" He begs plopping right down on the couch beside me. Lifting my hand from my knee, he warms it immediately in both of his own and waits for me to speak.
Wiping my nose, I need to know if we'll be interrupted. "Who's watching the bar?"
"Hailey. And Sheila was just finishing up her section, so she's covering yours for now. What's going on with you?"
"Tyler cheated on me yesterday,"
I pause as Mike breathes a long fuuuuck beside me. "Actually, I caught him yesterday in my own bed, so I assume it’s been going on for a while. And it's Kaitlyn-"
"Murphy?" He asks shocked.
"Yup. Kyle's slutty sister. Well, I want to assume she's a slut because it makes me feel better."
"She is," Mike agrees so seriously I gasp a quick laugh.
When Mike waits for me to calm my crying giggles, I tell him everything. "He said he still loves me and he said it wasn't about me at all. Tyler broke my heart but told me she's not as good looking as I am, she's not as intelligent, and you've confirmed she's a slut. But it doesn't really matter. I'm still suddenly heartbroken and homeless because 'There's just something about her,'" I sneer quoting Tyler. "So how can't it be about me? If I was as great as he says I was, he wouldn't have even been attracted to another woman, right?"
"Not really. Most men are dicks, Saige," Mike shakes his head. "And they're always kind of looking even when they're not. So Tyler had this perfect girlfriend at home, but then someone new came around, flaunting, teasing, making him feel like The Man again, and that's about how it happens. Men always want the new woman, but then always regret it and want the good woman back. It doesn't mean anything was wrong with you- it just means Tyler's an idiot who's thinking with his dick right now. I guarantee he'll come back for you though."
Exhaling hard, Mike leans back and pulls me right up against his side as I start crying again. It’s only been one day since everything imploded so I don't think it's completely irrational to still be crying all the time over a 4 year breakup with the love of your life. I just wish it didn't make me feel so weak and exhausted all the time.