Chapter 6

EVERETT

Someone orders a large red velvet cake for their twenty-fifth anniversary as they are busy having the three-course meal in the restaurant. My eyes glaze over the decoration as I remember I have to pipe out the names when I bring the cake to their table. Whether I like it or not, the fast-paced work atmosphere at my marketing job and the exhaustion I have from toiling in it are finally catching up with me. I find it hard to spell the name, Lina. It's a simple name, but I struggle to design the alphabet with the frosting.

I also hold back a big yawn that threatens to fan the icing on the cake and spew my germs all over it.

A loud scream rends the air, almost sudden and quick. It feels like something comes crashing down on the floor, or it might be a man in the background working through his pain from a paper cut.

"What do you think you are doing?" When I finally look at the woman sitting at the table across from me, I see that I have piped the icing all over the back of her hand, and the buttercream frosting covers her pricey bracelet and rings. Taking a small step back from her briskly, I rub my free hand on my white apron. Then my mouth falls open. I bring my fingers over my lips to stop the wail that wants to come out. I also see that the woman has dropped her handbag in surprise, and now a grim line separates her forehead into two. "What's wrong with young people nowadays?" She poses the question more to her husband than to me. "When I was younger, I still had my wits about me. It's like they have forgotten how to be in the present to concentrate on the job at hand."

Her husband reaches for her hand across the table's surface and squeezes it.

"It's fine, darling." He takes a good look at me. "She seems pale and sickly. Maybe something is wrong with her. Just forget about it."

Hearing them, I find my voice.

"It's nothing. I'm fine."

I stand there, situating the husband with a stern look, putting a hand on my hip as I fish out one of the cleaning rags I have stuffed in my restaurant's uniform pockets. I swiftly produce it on the table so she can wipe off that extra cream from her fingers. She accepts my proposition with a steely expression on her face.

"Don't expect us to leave you a tip." She offers me the rag back. "You don't deserve it."

I smile softly when I hear those words rush out of her mouth. Then I gesture to the husband.

"God bless you!" I nod towards the wife. "Twenty-five years must have been tough with this one."

The husband snickers.

"You don't have a clue." He shakes his head. "Nobody knows what I have endured being married to her."

The wife glares at him, and it immediately shuts him up.

"It was the best twenty-five years of my life." The husband adds. "I will do it all over again willingly if I ever get the chance."

"Oh, won't you?" The wife slaps his hand resting on the table. "There you go yapping with your big mouth the entire time."

I nod at them, fix the name on their cake and walk away. The rag she threw on the table angrily after cleaning her jewellery with the fabric hangs loosely from my fingers. As soon as I spot a wastebin, I throw it in the trash.

I can't have stingy people's DNA all over me.

The restaurant's kitchen is busy prepping dishes and putting them out to serve on the clean countertop. There is almost no time wasted when I move over with the food to the next table and then the next. It's one of the busiest days of the week, and all I can do is work through my exhaustion because they pay well. This medium-sized Italian-Mexican restaurant is a family-owned business, and they do actually care about their employees. As I smile at a new group of customers and put down the piping hot food in front of them, I remind myself that at least at this place, there are not looking to fire their employees over simple mistakes because of their so-called management style.

"Hey Everett, can you head back to the kitchen and get two draft beers for my friends over here?" The restaurant's owner, Juan, walks over to me with a couple in their mid-fifties holding hands and smiling at each other. I find their affection cute. "They have driven all the way from Kentucky to drop their daughter off for the state college. Get them some of our speciality hot buffalo wings with the beer. Maybe they can tell me if we need to make any adjustments to our new offering on the menu?"

I nod.

"Be right back." 

I head back to the kitchen and ask the restaurant chef, Priscilla, Juan's wife, to put out some hot buffalo wings. She nods without looking up as she goes back to cooking some other order, and I move some more food to a young couple seated at the back of the restaurant.

Then I run back to retrieve the order for Juan's friends. This time, Priscilla looks up as she puts the wings on the tray, patting them dry with paper towels to remove the excess oil. Then she coats them with the sauce before putting them neatly on a clean white dish.

"Has he found new friends?" She shakes her head. "He will bankrupt our business if he keeps giving our food away for free. There's always a new couple he finds every week, and the bill is on us." She blows out a desperate breath. "I don't know when he'll stop this insanity."

I nod, feeling empathetic about where she is coming from, and I offer a pat on her shoulder as I take the dishes out.

When I reach Juan's table, the couple he's scouted out as charity for the evening smile at me, and I return the smile as I plate the food in front of them.

"Gosh! That looks amazing!" The woman claps her hands in front of her chest as she exchanges a look with her husband. "I'm sure it tastes amazing!"

Juan laughs when he hears that. He's always so proud of the recipes they put up for their customers on the menu.

"Do you know who developed this recipe?" He shares an enthusiastic smile with the couple. When they fail to share his enthusiasm, he comes out directly with it. "The food researcher is right in front of you! It was Everett's idea that we add three more varieties of wings to the menu since some patrons only come to taste our fried food. She was extremely confident in getting feedback from younger people about how they wanted their chicken." He chuckles. "It was such a beautiful thing to watch this unfold since Evie has mostly kept to herself. Even when she started working here, she barely spoke more than a few sentences, but she has slowly become one of our core employees. She put herself out of her comfort zone so frequently to find the perfect accompaniment to our craft beer that we brew by ourselves in our barn. Only then did I know she was not only hardworking, but she was someone you could depend on." 

"How lovely!" The woman slaps me on my upper arm. "Good for you!"

I smell alcohol on her breath as she leans forward, resting her hands on the table to examine my face.

"You sure are pretty." She laughs, patting my arm again. "Do you think those young men simply responded to your requests because you look like this?" Then she laughs again, dismissing herself. "Well, there's no shame in serving in restaurants, but I'm sure our girl would never end up like that. She's way too smart to end up like a waitress."

The man stares at my face next, and then his eyes stop at my chest. 

"She sure is a pretty one."

I shift from one foot to another, putting my gaze on the floor upon hearing that. I try to hide my eyes from the man standing before me as his eyes fall lecherously on my body, moving from top to toe, so I twist my thumb around the small silver ring on my index finger. Then I step away from them as I move to the kitchen to bring them their beers.

When I return to their table with the beers in hand, I slowly put them down, not wanting to become a part of their conversation again. Throwing a smile to the group as Juan laughs cheerfully with them, I start to back away, nodding at them without saying anything.

As soon as I pivot, the man brushes his hand on my lower back, making me jump back from his touch, and in the process, his fingers let go of the glass of draft beer, and the glass slams over my hand. And the beer jolts all around my shirt, making the fabric cling to my body wherever it gets wet.

The sudden collision really wakes me up, and I stare at the man standing there, shrugging his shoulders. It is the last straw of the evening. This quiet invasion of my privacy pisses me off.

"I'm sorry," he says, "I was about to-going to ask you where do you attend college? Maybe you could make friends with my daughter."

I blow out a quick breath, taking a few more.

Don't explode on him, Evie.

No, don't.

Not right now.

That is the last thing you need.

He's definitely not worth it.

"I don't think I'm interested in making friends with your daughter." Juan passes me some paper napkins from the table, and I receive them swiftly and start patting over the beer spill on my work shirt. "Additionally, I have already gotten my degree."

"Woah! No way!" The woman chimes into the conversation. "You don't look older than nineteen, tops! How old are you?"

I remain unresponsive to her nonsense.

"God," he crosses his arms and blows out a noisy breath, "my daughter is way smarter than to be friends with someone on the bottom of the food chain."

I smirk.

"That's the first time I'm hearing that." I can't stop myself from cracking up. "I thought you wanted her to be friends with me not more than a minute ago." My fingers sand more paper towels on my shirt. "What has changed?"

"I just decided that you will not be a good influence on my daughter."

My brow furrows.

"As if you guys are good influences on your daughter, to begin with?"

The man corners me to the side of the table as he steps toward me.

"Complete that thought," he commands as he squints his eyes, "I'd like to see where you are going with this."

"Don't get me wrong, but you guys seem like shitty parents--" I take a small breath. "No, scratch that, you are shitty people, and I'm sure it must have reflected in your nesting skills."

"We are bad parents, aren't we, babe?" He talks to his partner as his brows lower angrily and spots of red splatter over his cheeks. "Tell this girl to fuck off because I don't like punching women in the face."

"Nah," she shakes her head as she chuckles, reaching for a hot wing sitting on the dish plate, "I'm enjoying this."

"Well, you seem like an asshole who just wanted to get my shirt wet." I throw an embarrassing look towards Juan, sitting across from the woman with his eyes wide and mouth agape. He's so taken with the scene that he's motionless as he watches the drama get out of control. "And you and your partner seem like narcissistic jerks who think they are above everyone." I rub the last of the paper towel against the fabric of my shirt before flicking it in his direction. "Whatever, anyway, I hope you choke on the remaining beer."

Juan swiftly gets up and inserts himself between the pervert and me, forcing him to take a step back. The man looks like he is a moment away from attacking me as he's visibly seething from anger. The man splays a hand across his chest as his mouth gapes open. Then he stutters something incomprehensible under his breath. In short, he's ready to blow his top off.

"Get that bitch away from my face," he speaks. "Is this how you treat your customers?" He faces Juan. "Your staff is out of control. Maybe you need to hire new people. People who are worth something in the job market."

"For you to be a customer of this restaurant, you'd have to pay first." I fold my arms over my chest. "I don't see you paying, though."

He takes a threatening step toward me to close the gap between us, but Juan pushes him back by the shoulders with enough force that the man almost staggers on his feet.

"Get out of my restaurant right now!" Juan yells at the couple. "Come on! Get your things and get out! Leave right now!"

The woman rolls her eyes before grabbing her purse and a clean paper towel and adding a hot wing inside it to take it with her. Juan continues to glare at her as she gets off the table. The man walks toward me, glowering at me before walking toward the exit. Other people in the restaurant stare up from their food and conversations before Juan waves them off with his hands.

"It's all right, people!" He laughs. "The situation is taken care of now. Please go back to your meals. There's nothing to see here!" After he makes the announcement, everyone slowly shifts back to what they were doing before the commotion. Then he scowls at me. "Evie, come and see me in the back."

Then he walks away ahead of me, and I have no other option than silently follow him to the kitchen.