15. Chapter Fifteen #2
“They can take their tip and shove it up their asses, for all I care,” I said with the brightest smile on my face.
She laughed, shaking her head.
I took the drinks over to them and placed them down on the table. “Here you go, guys.”
“It’s about fucking time,” Mrs Douche grumbled.
She took a sip and her face morphed into disgust. She slammed the cup back down, the liquid sloshing out all over the table.
“I said three sugars. Three! What, are you deaf? How hard is it to make a proper cup of coffee? Take it away and get it right. Where’s our food? ”
I stared at her, my eyes glazing over with a deadly rage.
I didn’t even try to hide the look taking over my face.
It was the look I had right before I killed someone.
Oh, there were so many things sitting on that table I could use to do just that.
A knife. A fork. I could smash the coffee cup and use a shard of it to slice her throat from ear to ear.
Mrs Douche swallowed nervously and lowered her gaze.
That’s right, bitch. I’m the Alpha here.
“I will go find out about your food,” I said slowly.
“Th-thank you,” she grumbled, still avoiding my eyes.
Maybe the look on my face told her I was definitely capable of killing her without blinking an eye, and now she was worried about pissing me off even further. Good.
I ducked into the kitchen to ask Jeffery how long until my orders were ready. He said only a few more minutes, so I used that time to clean the display cabinet that held all the freshly-baked pastries, muffins and cakes.
The café wasn’t busy. Apart from Mr and Mrs Douche, there were only three other customers, all being handled by other waitstaff.
A ding rang through the air. “Order up,” Jeffery barked, placing two plates of food under the heated lamps of the pass.
I checked them over, making sure they were definitely my orders before taking them over to my customers.
Neither one of them said a word to me when I placed their food down onto the table.
As their server, I was aware of the fact that I was meant to re-confirm their orders, but I wasn’t sure exactly what would come out of my mouth, so I chose to say nothing.
Belinda was finishing up serving someone at the register when I was making my way back behind the counter. “Did you threaten her? She’s as white as a ghost.”
“Who? Mrs Douche?” The smile on Belinda’s face told me she wouldn’t be angry if I did. That, in fact, she would find it quite amusing. “Not with words.”
Her green eyes sparkled. “You gave her ‘resting bitch’ face didn’t you?”
“No. I gave her my ‘I’m going to kill you’ face.”
She laughed, not taking my words seriously, even though I was being dead honest. “That’s probably going to cost you your tip.”
“I couldn’t care less,” I admitted. “She’s just lucky I didn’t stab her in the throat.”
She laughed again, her smile slowly fading away when I didn’t laugh along with her. “You’re…joking, right?”
“Nope.”
The rest of the customers I had for the day were pleasant and kind. They didn’t bring out that angry, murderous side of me, so that was a win in my book.
My highest tip of the day was $7.64. My lowest was $0.
50, courtesy of Mr and Mrs Douche. In total I got $54.
17. My brain ran rampant, trying to figure out how I was going to pay for everything I needed to pay for if I was only going to make $50 in tips a day.
Making it on my own was going to be harder than I thought.
I got along with all the other workers, Belinda in particular.
We talked shit and joked about random stuff all shift, which helped make the time go by quicker.
She had no problem putting on her “boss bitch” cap whenever she needed to, separating personal from professional. It was a trait I definitely admired.
As much as I hated the “serving customers” aspect of the job, I was quite enjoying myself.
Granted, it was just the first day. But still, I liked it.
This was my first job, and it felt good to finally do something other than shop and watch TV.
Yeah, I was working towards my fashion line.
But I’d never actually worked a day in my life before, held a proper job.
I’d never earned my own money or provided for myself.
So even though my feet were sore, my shoes were dirty, I had food in my hair and was completely covered in sticky sweat, I felt great.
“You did a good job today,” Belinda said, taking off her apron and popping it into her bag.
It was now 3 p.m., and we’d both just finished for the day.
The staff room was overrun with chatter as the workers coming in to start the afternoon shift changed into their uniforms. Lockers slammed open and shut.
Shoes squeaked across the floor. Greetings and farewells were exchanged.
It was all a bit too much, really, like a sensory overload.
“Even though it was just a trial run, I can pretty much guarantee you’ve got the job. You’re hard working and a fast learner; two qualities I always look for in staff.”
An anxious weight that had been smothering me all day lifted off my chest. I didn’t want to have to look for another job. This one was perfect. In walking distance from campus, nice co-workers and pleasant atmosphere. Shitty customers excluded.
“Thank you.”
“I can offer you three shifts a week to start off with, and then we’ll see where we go from there?” She began to undress, taking off her work shirt and skirt.
“Sounds good. I don’t have my class schedule yet, but once I do I’ll let you know my days.”
“Perfect.” She slipped into a pair of skinny jeans and a tank top. “Aren’t you going to get changed? If you’re shy, there’s a rest room just through there.”
I was the furthest thing from shy. “Honest opinion, how do I look right now?”
She let her hair down and ran her fingers through it, shaking it out. “You sure you want an honest opinion? I’ve been told I can be pretty blunt.”
“Give it to me.”
“You look like a dog's breakfast. Your hair is a frizzy mess. Your make-up is smudged. You’ve got flour on your face, which absolutely baffles me because you didn’t cook a damn thing today. So how did it get there? And your clothes are covered in food stains.”
I laughed, shaking my head in amusement at her words. “Perfect.”
Nikolai found the idea of me getting a job laughable.
Yes, he told me he was proud of me, that he believed in me.
But I knew what he was thinking, what he’d never voice.
He didn’t think I could actually do it and stick with it.
I wanted him to see me after a hard day's work with nothing but a smile on my face.
Belinda frowned, opening her mouth to respond, but she was interrupted by a man with short, teal blue hair bursting into the staff room.
“Come quick,” he panted heavily. “Level five McHottie at the front counter.”
“Level five?” Belinda scoffed. “There’s never been a level five here before.”
“Well, now there is,” he insisted. His eyes flicked to me. “Hey, new girl.”
“This is Darren,” Belinda introduced, flowing to her feet. “He’s the afternoon manager.”
“Introductions later! You have to come check this guy out before he leaves. I damn near fainted, coming through the door.”
Belinda rolled her eyes. “You’re exaggerating. Level fives never come in this shithole. Level four, maybe. But not— oh my god .” Her eyes widened as she peeked through the small gap of the staff room door, staring out into the shop. “He is a Level five.”
“Okay, is someone going to fill me in here?” I asked, watching them both salivate over this mystery man sitting in the café.
“A Level five is the hottest a person can be on our scale,” Belinda said, not even looking back at me. “To be a Level five, he’s got to be tall—”
“Dark-haired—” Darren continued.
“Muscly—” Belinda cut back in.
“Have that dangerous, bad boy vibe—”
“Gorgeous eyes—”
“Classic book boyfriend,” Darren finished.
They ping-ponged back and forth between each other like they were each reading a line from a list only they knew.
“Yes! Perfect description. Oh, shit. Here comes Desiree. You better get out there and shoot your shot before she gets her sticky paws all over him,” Belinda said, nudging Darren with her elbow.
“We don’t even know if he’s gay.” He began to fix his hair anyway, preparing himself.
Sick of not being involved in whatever the fuck was going on right now, I hiked up onto my tippy toes so I could peak over their heads and see this mysterious Level five. I internally rolled my eyes. Of course.
“He’s not gay.”
Darren glanced over his shoulder at me. “And how could you possibly know that, new girl?”
“The name is Tatiana.”
“Oh, how rude of me,” he stated in a snarky tone.
“Don’t be an ass, Darren. We like her,” Belinda said, winking at me.
“Okay, fine. Tatiana , care to explain how you know Level five isn’t gay? It’s not something you can tell just by looking at someone.”
“Very true.” I went back to my locker and picked up my handbag, draping it over my shoulder. “His name is Nikolai, and he’s my ex.”
Their jaws dropped open.
“Your-your ex?!” Darren gasped. “You lucky son of a bitch. How could you let go of a piece of prime rib like that ?”
Those familiar feelings of resentment started to creep their way back into me, like they did every time I thought about our past. But that feeling was quickly replaced by anger when Belinda spoke.
“Oh, shit. Desiree is going in for the kiss.”