The Billionaire Panty Ripper

Eden’s POV

Being a waitress sucks! But you know what sucks more? My entire life!

Picture a 21-year-old girl donned in a worn-out yellow apron with tiny cartoon coffee cups printed all over it; an apron that has seen more stains than a toddler’s onesie and could double as a parachute in an emergency.

And my uniform, well, let’s just say it has seen better days. It’s a faded black polo shirt with a pen sticking out of one pocket and a notepad wedged in the other. My jeans are faded too but at least they’re comfy. And my shoes are crying for mercy.

Every day, I float around the greasy diner like a servant girl in a Disney movie, taking orders, serving food, sweeping up crumbs and wiping tables until my hands go numb. Sometimes even my brain goes numb.

I hate this job. Compared to the things I have to put up with here, this job doesn’t really pay that much. But what can I do? Someone has got to pay the bills and that someone happens to be just me. I have to make-do with whatever little money I can get if I don’t want to starve and if I ever want to go to college.

I glance down at the tray of food in my hands and instantly realize that I’ve got the order wrong. I curse myself inwardly and quickly head back to the kitchen. The last thing I want right now is to have insults hurled at me by a customer or to be scolded by my hot-tempered boss.

No matter what I do, I can’t seem to please that grumpy man.

“You got the order wrong?” Sarah asks, staring at me intently and takes the food tray from me.

Sarah’s the head chef here, the only closest thing I have to a friend. Keyword-closest.

I smile nervously and reply, “Yeah, sorry, Sarah. I got a bit mixed up with table five and table seven. My brain must be on vacation today. Won’t happen again, I promise.” I give her my best puppy-dog eyes, hoping she’ll take pity on me.

She lets out a sigh and shakes her head. “Eden, you’ve got to focus more. You can’t afford to keep messing up like this.”

“I know,” I mumble, my shoulders dropping low and watch as Sarah hurries to correct the order. “It’s just… I’ve been going through a lot lately.”

Sarah gives me a pitiful look and with concern etched in her voice, she asks, “Is everything alright? Did your dad…?”

I nod weakly. My father had slammed my head against the wall last night because I didn’t have any money to give him for beer.

Sarah is the only one who knows how my father has been abusing me. She’s the only one I’ve told. And it was actually her who’d pressured me into telling her the truth when I’d come to work one day with a bruised lip and a swollen face.

“Oh Eden,” she mouths. “How long are you going to let him treat you like that? Why don’t you just leave?”

I shake my head, a lump forming in my throat. “I can't, Sarah. You know I can't.”

“Of course, you can. You can’t keep living in that house with that jobless drunk.”

“Please don’t call him that,” I heave.

“But that’s exactly what he is,” Sarah says sternly.

“He’s still my father.”

“Oh yeah? And when was the last time he acted like one? Look at you. You dropped out of high school to take care of a grown man who’s supposed to be taking care of you. All he does is waste away in every local bar around here, take your money and make a punching bag out of you whenever he feels like it.”

I stay quiet, reflecting on her words. Hearing the truth hurts. It hurts a lot. Perhaps even more than living the truth.

“Eden, you have to leave that house. You shouldn’t wait until he kills you. You have your whole life ahead of you and maybe when you finally leave him, he’ll get his shit together.”

“I wish it were that easy, Sarah. You know my situation. I can’t just pack up and leave. Where would I go? I have no money, no family nearby and nowhere to turn to.”

“You know you can always stay with me, right? My apartment has an extra room.”

I shake my head, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips despite the heaviness in my heart. “Thanks, Sarah, but I can’t impose on you like that. Besides, I wouldn’t want to burden you with my problems.”

“You wouldn’t be a burden,” she insists, her tone firm. “You’re my friend, Eden. And friends help each other out.”

I open my mouth to argue but Sarah cuts me off with a wave of her hand. “No buts. Just think about it, okay?”

“Okay,” I whisper with a nod.

I go about my day thinking about what Sarah said while serving tables, dodging impatient customers and trying not to slip on the greasy floor. Then out of nowhere, I feel a hard smack on my butt and I freeze on the spot.

I turn to see a guy, a slim blonde guy no more than 17 0r 18 years, grinning at me. “What’s up, cutie?”

Unbelievable! Like I wasn’t already having a bad day, now I have to deal with teenagers smacking my butt? This is unacceptable!

“Excuse me,” I say, my face contorted with anger but I try to mask it. “How dare you touch me like that?”

The boy smirks, his eyes roving over me in a way that makes my skin crawl. “Relax, babe. Just having a bit of fun.”

Fun? Fun?! I clench my fists, resisting the urge to give him a piece of my mind. Instead, I force a tight-lipped smile and say, “That’s not fun. It’s harassment. Keep your hands to yourself.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that,” he utters, eyeing my body and leaning into his seat. “You know you liked it.”

My blood boils. How dare he? Before I can stop myself, I grab the nearest glass of water and splash it right in his face.

The boy splutters, wiping water from his eyes and jolts up. “What the hell?”

“That’s for disrespecting me.”

“Why you bitch!”

“What’s going on here?” I hear my boss say and turn to see him glaring at me. “Henry, what happened?” he asks, going over to the boy’s side.

“This bitch splashed water on me, dad,” he spits.

Dad? He’s his son? Oh no. How is it that I’ve never met him before?

My boss says through clenched teeth, “Eden..,”

“Sir, I swear I can explain,” I respond. “He…”

“Save it. I’ve had enough of you. You’re tardy, incompetent and now you’re assaulting my son. But it all ends now. Get out of here,” he says.

“What?”

“You’re fired.”