6 Days : She never existed

Zuri's POV:

"Girl, help me with table 5. I need to go calm my nerves," Amber says, taking out a cigarette. She heads out the back door without giving me a chance to say no. Putting on my apron and stuffing a notepad and a pen into my pouch, I make my way to table 5.

"Hi, I'll be taking over for Amber. She's not feeling well. Are you ready to order?" Putting on my friendliest smile, I wait for their response. They all start looking at their menus. Honestly, can someone tell me what they've been doing this whole time? They got their menus 10 minutes ago. It's literally 5 pages, and the food has been the same for 30 years. What else could they be searching for? Masking my sigh with a cough, the lady finally speaks.

"What do you recommend?" she quizzes. I honestly look at her dumbfounded. I mean, she has been staring at the thing just so she can ask me that question.

"Well, it all depends on your budget for the night," I smile, a sweet one, but it doesn't quite meet my eyes. A few more minutes of this job, and I might start smoking too.

"Oh, price isn't a problem, darling," she smiles back. I almost feel a pang of jealousy tug on my chest. I widen my smile, hoping it's not forced.

"In that case, I recommend the cheesy margarita pizzas for the kids and for you and your husband, steak topped with sautéed mushrooms with stuffed baked potatoes on the side, or shrimp Alfredo pasta with a side of cheesy garlic bread," I say, taking out my pen, getting ready to take their orders.

"Mmm, that sounds lovely indeed. The kids will take the margaritas, and we'll take 2 steaks sautéed mushrooms, what, what," she says as they all fold their menus and push them aside.

"Okay, what would you like to drink?" I ask, and they all start opening their menus again.

I am trying so hard to remain smiling right now, but honestly, it's my job, so I just gotta wait it out. My shift ends in 20 minutes. They spend about 5 minutes looking at the drinks menu, huffing and puffing, while I stand there not knowing whether to go or stay for longer.

"What would you recommend?" the lady finally asked, sensing my antsy. I don't know for you, but a bottle of Rosé to myself would be great.

"For the kids, I recommend crème soda floats, and for the gentleman, a glass of scotch for the tension in his muscles to relax, and you, ma'am, a glass of red wine with a hint of citrus will do the trick," I smile fakely, clearly fed up with all of this.

"What makes you think I'm tense?" the man scoffs. Oh, would you look at that, he has a voice.

"Kids, we have a very nice playroom; why don't you go check it out while you wait for your food," I say, encouraging the kids to leave the awkward atmosphere. The two kids practically jump out of their seats, and they head to the playroom. Staring back at the parents, I fold my arms, tucking the notebook under my arms.

"Clearly, you two are going through some couply things, and I can tell by the fact that you aren't wearing your ring during our brief meeting; you've been fidgeting, either you lost it or you're divorced or cheating, and that's why I suggested scotch. You can see the knot build up on your shoulders, and the frown lines on your face are concerning, considering you're eating out with your family," I say, and their faces pale.

"I don't like your tone, missy," the lady scolds me.

"Hey, the truth hurts best coming from someone you don't know, but anyways, will that be it?" I ask, unfolding my arms, and looking back down with notebook and pen in hand.

They both look at me stunned, probably because nobody has ever been honest with them. They nod their heads, yes, and now I know I was right about something.

"Thank you, your order will be coming right up," I smile for the last time, and I turn on my heels as I enter the kitchen. I feel a pair of arms yank me aside.

"Hey, what fu-" I scream, but I turn to see it's just my manager. Oh boy, here we go again.

"What the hell was that, Zuri? How many times must I tell you not to speak to customers like that?" he says, fuming, his face red.

"Let go of my arm, Mark, or else I'll have to report you to HR for assault," I say, warning him.

"Keep it up, and I'll fire you," he spat.

"We both know you can't do that, Mark," I say, lightly patting his face. His jaw clenches because deep down he knows I'll tell HR about him trying to sleep with an employee, and he’ll get fired along with me. So he and I have this agreement, but he seems to forget a lot, and I have to remind him about it.

"My name is Frank," he says through a clenched jaw as he lets go of my arm.

"And I'm Rapunzel, Mark," I say, untying and throwing my apron onto the floor. I turn and walk towards the restaurant's back door. I hear Mark faintly say something.

"What was that, Mark?" I shout from the corridor. He doesn't say anything, and I nod.

I know I'm acting a bit bitchy, but I never signed up for this. I'm studying psychology, and by now, I thought I would have an apprentice job, but no, instead, I'm sweeping floors and dealing with bullshit, but at least the pay's good.

I exit the doors, and there parks a sexy red G63 Mercedes and a handsome man wearing an expensive suit exits the car, locking eyes with me.

Don't get your hopes up, that's Travis, the owner of the restaurant.

"Afternoon, Zuri; I sure hope your shift was good," he says smirking. He leans on his car and eyes me. He thinks he can wow me with all this fancy shit.

"Yeah, my shift was okay, I guess," I shrug. He nods and proceeds to open the car door for me.

"No, Travis, for the 100th time, I'm taking an Uber," he looks at me, and folds his arms, smirking.

"We both know these are not safe times, and a pretty girl like you can't be alone in such a world," he says, trying to reach for my hair.

He really thinks the hair-behind-the-ear thing is going to work on me. Rolling my eyes, I take a step back.

"Well, I've survived this long, stepbro," I say, punching his shoulder playfully.

"Well, we aren't related by blood, and our parents got divorced like 3 years ago," he says, shrugging his shoulders.

"And what does that make this appropriate?" I say, moving my hands between us.

"Well, I mean, your mom does love me," he grins, stepping towards me, and I step back.

"Yeah, as a son, you fucker," I roll my eyes, and I make my way towards the road, calling for an Uber.

He tries to catch up with me as the backseat door of the Uber opens. I jump in, telling the driver to just drive.

Travis knows where I live, and he can probably follow me if he wants, but I doubt he will.

My neighbors don't quite like him, well, the guy next door doesn't cause every time Travis comes over...