Chapter 28
BURTON
“What can I get you to drink?” I say, leaning over to talk with table four.
They rattle off their list of drinks, and I get them into the system we use for ordering.
They put in an appetizer as well, which is always great.
I can bring that out right after their drinks and tide them over until the food comes out.
It’s a busy night, and while our cook team does a great job of getting the food out quickly, it’s always good to manage expectations.
I walk back to the kitchen to fill drinks.
My mind is out in la-la land as I think of my time with Laney this afternoon.
I know she won’t be at every game because of her work schedule, but she came to as much of my game yesterday as she could before driving to the baseball field for her shift.
And she was there today for the entire thing.
I love her spunk and the creativity she brings to our conversations. My favorite part was when she started rattling off different names, trying to see if one of them was my first name.
Am I embarrassed that my parents named me Courtney at birth? Obviously.
I know there are Courtneys out there who are men, but it’s hard to have a name like that and play a professional sport, even if it’s one that’s not followed as much.
I overfill a soda and then have to lock back into my serving mentality. It’s the only way I’ll be able to get the tips I need to add to my savings account.
The restaurant is a nicer establishment, with most of the entrées ranging between twenty and thirty dollars. Do I typically see people from my athlete life here? No, and I’m okay with that.
So when I see Billy Thornton walk in, my stomach sinks.
I walk up to Aliana and say, “It’s almost time for my break, right?”
She glances down at her sheet and then up at me. “Tracy is on break right now. You’ll have to wait until she’s back.”
My stomach sinks because I know just where the hostess will put Billy. At one of my tables that just cleared.
But I can be a professional. I can give him the best service of my life and be grateful for the chance to work.
Instead of watching the hostess seat him and his group, I turn and focus on the tables I’m already serving. No need to waste a night of tips because I’m feeling a little off.
And I’ve done stuff like this before. I’ve been able to block out an irritating opponent. I’ll have to do it again when we play the Rattlers at their home field later in the season.
I take out the drinks to one table, walking slower than normal because of my hamstring. With those delivered, I come back for the entrees for another table before I get the signal that Billy’s table is all mine.
Walking over, I have my tablet out and ready to go, doing my best to look at everyone but Billy.
“Good evening. My name is Burton, and I’ll be your server today. Are we celebrating anything?” That’s my typical question, since there are a lot who come in for special occasions.
“Just business,” a man with an obvious toupee says. He looks familiar, but I’ve seen a lot of people lately, and he could’ve been from here on another visit.
“Awesome, well, I’m glad you’re here. Can I get some drinks started for you?” I ask, glancing at Billy out of the corner of my eye. He’s focused on his phone, which is fine by me. What is he doing here with a couple of suits?
The three men order, and then Billy gives me his order without looking up. I’d be okay if this is how we interacted the entire meal.
I set down the drinks after filling them and take their order. This time, I’m not so lucky.
“Give me the sirloin. Make sure it’s medium rare and that there’s a good size serving of mashed potatoes. We’ll need more bread here as well.”
I nod, typing in the order and turn to leave when Billy says, “Courtney Burton?”
I freeze and turn, giving him a small smile. It only takes a second of hesitation for me to remember the plan. “Billy. Good to see you again.”
“I thought you were injured. You didn’t come back in the game, and yet you’re also working here?” The sneer in his voice grates on my nerves, but I do my best to remain calm.
“Do you play lacrosse, son?” Mr. Toupee asks.
“Yes, I do. For the Salt Lake Lancers.” There’s a measure of pride in my voice, and I give him a smile.
He nods. “That’s why you looked familiar. You had some great plays this weekend.”
He was at our games?
“Until he messed it up in the third quarter today.”
Thank you for that reminder, Billy.
I glance down at the tablet. “There’s a large group that came in. I’ll make sure the kitchen got your order so you don’t have to wait so long.” I punch a few buttons and say, “And I’ll be back with some more bread.”
“The Lancers don’t pay you enough to play?” Billy asks, before I get out of earshot.
I sigh, trying to decide how to react. Turning, I give him a small smile. “Sometimes we sacrifice for what we want. This is better than working in an office all day.”
It’s the truth, and as much as I thought it would be a slap in the face, there’s a moment of curiosity in his expression before it turns to haughtiness.
I turn away with a fake smile and hurry into the kitchen. The tablet already loads the orders and sends them to the kitchen, but I need a reason to leave before things escalate.
“Are you all right?” Aliana says.
I force out a smile again. “Yeah. Just getting things sent out.”
“Your face is completely red. You’re not coming down with the flu or something, are you?” she asks, reaching up to touch my forehead with the back of her hand.
It would be easy to say yes and duck out, not having to face Billy again, but I don’t want to do that. I need to stay strong and keep up a solid front. As long as we’re both playing in the PLL, I’ll have to see him several times a year. I don’t want this to be a memory I regret for years to come.
“I’m fine. Just a bit hot in here.”
She stares into my eyes. “Let me know if you need to leave. You’ve worked a lot of days in the past month and could probably use a break.”
“I appreciate that, Aliana. Thank you for being willing to work around my schedule.”
“Well, you’re one of my top servers. If I could clone you, I would.” She tries to give me a stern look, but I can see the corner of her lips tick up.
Shaking my head, I say, “I don’t think the world is ready for multiple Burtons.”
“You’re probably right about that.”
We both laugh and she pats me on the back before walking over to check on another section.
I gather what I need for my other tables spread across the restaurant.
Sauces, silverware, more water. Just put it on autopilot is what I want to do, but I know I need to concentrate so it’s not a chaotic mess here—which makes me think of Pearl the goat and what chaos she created when I was trying to scare Laney.
The food comes up for Billy’s group. I take out one tray, and Vanessa, a coworker, helps me take out another.
“How’s it looking?” I ask after we’ve set out all the plates. “Did we get everything you needed?”
“Can I get a side order of Alfredo sauce?” one man says.
Mr. Toupee points to his drink and says, “And can I get a refill?”
“For sure. I’ll be right back with those.” My body physically relaxes when I walk away from the table. I can do this for another thirty minutes, right?
I bring out a boat of sauce and the drink with a pineapple slice on the rim.
“This isn’t cooked how I wanted it,” Billy finally says after cutting into his steak. As he holds up the piece, it’s a mostly hot red center and charred on the outside. That’s the restaurant version of medium rare.
“I can have the cook put it on the grill again if you need it cooked more.”
Billy narrows his gaze at me. “I want a new steak, and it better not be mooing at me when it comes back out.”
I lean over and pick up the plate, doing my best to keep my mouth shut as I walk into the kitchen with it.
“Let me guess,” Leni, our cook, says. “He wanted medium rare and then didn’t like how pink it was.”
“Five hundred points to Leni,” I say, putting the plate on the counter above him. He takes the steak and puts it back onto the grill.
“He says he wants a new steak.”
“I can make it look like a new steak; it’ll just be smaller than he wanted.”
I shrug. “We’ll see if he even eats it with it cooked a little more.”
I’m back in ten minutes with the same plate but a “different” steak.
“Let me know if that’s to your liking,” I say, the words coming out as if I suddenly became a wooden puppet like Pinocchio.
Billy cuts into it and says, “Hey, you did something right for once, unlike out on the field. You’re a waste of space. Maybe it’s time to move on, Courtney.”
I tip my head back, steeling my expression so I can focus on my job and not wanting to put a fist in this guy’s face. “I’ll come check on you in a few minutes. Enjoy your meal.”
“Are you married, Courtney? Dating someone special?” Billy’s voice is grating my nerves to a fine dust.
I shake my head and turn my attention to the rest of the table. “I’ll get you another drink,” I say to the guy on the other side of Billy.
“I take it you’re not. You’re missing out, Courtney,” he says with emphasis on my name. “I doubt any girl would love you when you have to work at a place like this to survive.”
“I’m not sure what you need from me. A feeling like you’re one up on me? Or to feel superior? I’m just trying to do my job and live, Billy.” I pause as I stare at him for several seconds, trying to regulate my nervous system.
Most of what he’s said isn’t bad, but that last barb won’t come out.
“We apologize for him,” the one with the toupee says.
Billy shakes his head. “No, no apologies needed. People shouldn’t be coddled in life.”
Toupee man stands up and throws his napkin on the table, shaking his head at Bill. “I’ve heard enough. I’m out.” He turns to look at me and says, “Can I pay my portion now?”
I nod and wave for him to follow.
After several deep breaths, I’ve got the ticket printed and ready for Mr. Toupee. He fills out the tip and signs it before handing it over to me.
“Sir, this is too much.” The tip is triple the cost of his food.
“No, it’s perfect for what you had to put up with. You stood up for yourself, and I admire that. I’m Blaine Sturgeon with Warrior Lacrosse. If you ever need anything, kid, give me a call.”
He pulls out a business card and hands it to me.
“That’s why you look familiar.” He’d been at one of the bigger tables at FanFest with gear on it for the kids.
Laughing, he says, “It was a great event your club put on this weekend.”
I smile. “Clark Denton started that idea. We just rolled with it.”
Blaine gives me a soft smile and nods. “Well, thank you again for your hospitality and how you handled yourself back there.” He pats me on the shoulder before walking out of the restaurant.
I blow out a breath and print out the other three tickets. By the time I’m back at the table, it’s borderline chaos with yelling and red faces. I’m not sure if I should approach cautiously or come back later.
One guy sees me and waves a card out to me.
“Here’s my card. You can pay for me and him,” the guy says, pointing to the one sitting next to Billy. “Billy can pay for himself.”
Billy’s eyes narrow at me, and he takes out his wallet, setting a card on top of the bill.
I run their cards and take them back for signatures, clearing a few dishes to make it easier for when they leave.
“I can’t believe you couldn’t keep your mouth shut for a few minutes so we could get the deal done, Billy,” the man across the table says.
“Well, Mark, you’re my agent. You’re supposed to close it.”
Mark shakes his head. “You’re a great lacrosse player, Billy, but a terrible human being. You’re not a child, and yet no one would know because you threw a fit in a business meeting and ran off a potential sponsor.”
I walk away as they continue to point fingers. And while I’m still a little bugged by Billy, at least there’s turmoil in his own life. I guess things aren’t always better on the other side.
The men leave, and I get a nice tip from the man who paid for two dinners, and a big fat zero on Billy’s tip line. At least he paid for the entree, though.
I’ve never been more ready to head home in my life.