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"Two cheeseburgers with fries," Emma shouted though the kitchen window to be heard over the din. The chef nodded his head to indicate that he had heard her, simultaneously pulling out a rag to mop the beads of sweat off of his forehead.
"Hey, girl!" another waitress named Ruby popped up beside Emma. The two had been friends for a long time and Ruby was the reason Emma had landed this new job. "You're doing a great job for your first night!" She flashed Emma a large grin, getting an exhausted half-smile in return.
"Thanks," Emma replied, shortly. Ruby grabbed two plates off of the ledge attached to the kitchen window, her bright red nails accented against the white porcelain of the dishes.
"Walk with me," she suggested in a way that sounded more like a command. Emma complied without objection, grateful for the company. Plus Ruby's route was on the way to her next table. Ruby glanced at Emma out of the corner of her eye. "So, how are you holding up?"
"Well," Emma began, "other than the fact that table seven and eighteen left me crappy tips and that I'm about to fall asleep standing up, I'd say I'm doing pretty okay." Ruby laughed and Emma smiled wanly, looking down at the floor.
"Hey," Ruby said, nudging her with an elbow, "at least you haven't spilled someone's drink on them yet!"
"Yet is the key word in that sentence."
"Whatever, you'll do fine. Your shifts almost over, anyway." Emma appreciated the encouragement. Things seemed to be winding down, finally, as the night grows older. It had been a busy night, but Emma had managed to make it through without incident thus far. She looked over at her next table- table thirty two way back in the corner by the window. It's occupant sat with his face turned away from her, watching the pedestrians walk by outside. All Emma could really see from this angle was his messy mop of dark hair and the faint sheen of his black leather jacket from the soft glow of the restaurant lights. She looked down at the table chart cheat sheet that was in her waitress pouch. RESERVED was written in red ink across the table in the corner. It was the only reserved table in the whole restaurant. Weird.
"Hey, do you know anything about my next table?" Emma asked Ruby, tilting her head towards the man in the corner. Her friend followed her gaze across the restaurant and Ruby's eyes widened slightly as she nodded.
"Yeah, he comes in every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday," she intoned. "He shows up around 10:30 and stays 'til after my shift and he always sits at that table. He reserved it even though he only sits there during the night hours." She paused her explanation to set the two plates in front of a two men arguing about the Clippers and the Spurs. It appeared to be pretty heated and the pair didn't seem to notice when the waitresses slipped away. Ruby started to clear dishes off of another table and Emma helped.
"Linda had his table before she got fired," Ruby continued, "and she 'loved' with him." She made air quotes with her fingers and rolled her eyes. "Not that it would take much to get her to sleep with you." She coughed and muttered the word 'slut' under her breath. Emma didn't even flinch at the term, because she knew Ruby was right. She'd heard rumors about Linda, that she wasn't the most admiral employee. She always showed up late to work, sometimes she'd come in drunk or high, and she had a terrible attitude unless she thought you were hot. Ruby shrugged. "So, anyway, he's kind of 'tall, dark, and handsome' type if you ask me." Emma glanced over at the corner and placed the last plate into the grey, plastic dish tub.
"Well," she said, beginning to move toward the corner table. "Wish me luck."
"Good luck."
There was a pleasant 'click' with every step Emma took, her high heels telling everyone of her location. She straightened her black apron out of habit. Before she could even utter a syllable, he raised a hand to silence her.
"The usual, darling. Honestly, I don't even know why you bother to come over here any more." Whoa, hello sexy British accent. Emma raised an eyebrow, focused not on the accent but with the flippant tone he had used to address her.
"Excuse me?" she said. She didn't bother keeping her sass in check. It was late, it had been a long day, and she was tired. Just another hour or two and she was outta here and back to her apartment. He turned to look at her and she was met with a pair of icy blue eyes that she wasn't expecting. Ruby wasn't lying when she had said dark and handsome (she obviously couldn't tell if he was tall because he was sitting down). His murky hair, touch of eyeliner, and scruff all combined to make an aphotic, but attractive combination. Emma could tell that he knew he was handsome and was accustomed to getting what he wanted because of it.
"Well, you're definitely not the usual wench that takes my order," he remarked observantly, seeming to visibly shudder from the memory. He took a swig from the bottle he'd been nursing and then placed his hand lightly over his mouth, resting a knuckle on his upper lip and thumb beneath his chin. Those baby blues of his wandered up and down Emma's body like she was the most interesting thing to wander into this restaurant in all of his days coming here. She felt her cheeks heat up, but she refused to fidget beneath a man's gaze. He quirked an eyebrow to show his thorough interest in this hot, new waitress.
"To what do I owe this pleasure, love?" Emma blinked. Was this guy seriously flirting with her?
"I'm just here to take your order," she replied, cocking out a hip and pulling out her pad and pen.
"Ah, all formalities, of course," he remarked with a chuckle.
"What would you like to have?" Her pen hovered over the paper expectantly. When he didn't reply, she looked up to find him staring.
"Well isn't obvious?" he purred in a baritone. "I'll have you." A light pink dusted Emma's cheeks briefly and she shifted her weight to the other foot. He leaned forward and continued in a whisper, "Oh, would I have you." He ran his tongue slowly along his bottom lip before he resumed his position closest to the window. Emma marveled at his audacity, but did not for a second lose her composure. His eyes may have been the color of a January frost, but they were no match for the icy look she gave him.
"I asked 'what' you wanted to have, not 'who,'" she shot back, raising an eyebrow. He leaned back toward the window, as if he'd expected Emma to turn into gushy pile of hormones rather than come up with a witty reply. Emma smiled internally, but kept her mouth in a firm line. "Not to mention," she added, "I'm not on the menu."
There was a ghost of a grin on her lips with her last retort, and she appeared to have left the man slightly stunned. She slid the menu toward him and he stopped it with the bottom of his bottle. "I'll give ya a couple more minutes," she said knowingly, giving him the most condescending look she could muster. With that, she turned on her heel and walked to go check on her other couple of tables. Only then did she allow herself to smile.