3. Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Milo
To say I haven’t imagined getting to know Rose before would be a lie. I sort of look for her every time I come in. This is the only time I’ve been here without some or all of my family, though.
And since literally everyone else in the family had plans tonight, I thought I’d come eat a leisurely dinner. Being the youngest in a family of six boys means I’m used to eating alone.
I’m the youngest of seven, technically. My dad found out he had another son from a relationship before he met my mom. Benson’s the oldest and none of us know him very well, but he’s planning to come to Colorado for another visit soon.
Shaking Rose’s hand just now felt . . . I don’t know . . . special somehow. Like we’re two peas in a pod. Sounds ridiculous, but it’s true.
“Do not break character,” she warns before she leaves my table, and for the first time since she and I started talking about this little impromptu game, nerves carve a channel through my stomach.
I offered to help her play a prank on her boss, who seems like a total jerk. And it sounds like this tool has been messing with her for a while, which is not acceptable. I’m not going to just stand by and watch that happen.
I’m tucked into my plate of pasta carbonara, fully invested in the creamy tang of the sauce and the brightness of the diced vegetables, when the busboy brings a small side dish of sardines.
Time to do the best acting job of my life.
I wish it had been Rose who brought them out, but this will have to do. She’s been busy with her other tables and unlike the earlier part of the night, she hasn’t been making eye contact with me from across the room.
Maybe she’s having second thoughts about our ruse.
It’s “speak now or forever hold your peace” time, though, because I’m slurping up these sardines like nobody’s business.
They’re . . . not good.
“Uh, Miss?” I hold up a finger as Rose rushes past my table.
She whirls around, her face equal parts horror and “I’m your waitress, so I have to be kind.” I backpedal. Maybe she really is having second thoughts.
I rein in some of the chiding tone I’d planned. “I’m . . . disappointed in these sardines.”
“Oh?” She arches a brow, her cheeks stained the perfect shade of pink. “I apologize. Would you like something else?” Her lips twitch as her voice carries across the room.
I pause, unsure. I don’t want to make any trouble for her. She blinks twice, deliberately, as if we’re suddenly using this secret eye language.
Blink twice for help, three times for all systems go, and four times if you want my phone number.
But she doesn’t blink again, so I’m whisked out of my imaginary flirting. She nods as if to encourage me, so I continue on. “I don’t want anything else. These are just . . .” I think of the mouthfeel and gag internally. “Not good. Can I speak to your manager, please?”
Rose chews her bottom lip and then offers a curt smile. “Of course.”
I still can’t tell if she’s having second thoughts. She’s probably a better actor than I am. Regardless, we’re doing this, so I have to be all in.
Do not laugh. Do not laugh.
I curl my hands into fists to brace myself, but once I get a glimpse of Blaine, all tendencies to break out in laughter go away. He’s scowling and sort of has this deer-in-the-headlights look, like he got pulled away from something important.
“Hello, sir,” he says, Rose at his heels. The tension between them is strange—heavy. “What seems to be the problem?” He’s got dark hair in a buzz cut and a faint scar across his chin. He’s wearing a nametag and the same type of black kitchen work shoes that Rose has on. With his black, tucked-in button down shirt and tight black pants, he looks like a hulking stagehand in our play.
Instead of the villain he’s imagining himself to be, he’s nothing but an anonymous stagehand.
I curb the smile that’s biting against my mouth. “Well, I ordered sardines, but what I got was a big pile of crap.”
Rose’s professional expression starts to waver, and she eases back so Blaine can’t see her covering her mouth with her hand.
Blaine’s jaw muscles harden. “I apologize you don’t like them. They can be an acquired taste.”
“Oh, I’ve already acquired the taste for sardines. The problem is, these are far too slimy and should not be served to anyone.”
Blaine’s eyebrow twitches. “I’ll see that they’re comped on your check.”
I shake my head. “I’d say you can do better than that. To just comp them would be something you’d do for getting an order wrong or taking too long to get the food to the table, that sort of thing.” I make a sweeping motion with my hands in front of my plate. “But to bring this rubbish to me, expecting me to eat it?” I glance at his nametag. “That’s low, Blaine.” I raise my chin, my eyes lazily taking him in. “So yeah, comp them. But what else are you going to give me?”
Blaine draws in a breath, his shoulders hunching to his ears. He’ll never win any customer service awards with this attitude. “Can I ask you to keep your voice down?” His gaze goes to the tables where a loud group of men in their thirties have quieted as they’ve started digging into their cannolis. His face flushes.
I take a swig of water and run it around the inside of my mouth like it’s mouthwash. “Seriously,” I say in a quieter tone. “What are you going to give me to get this bad taste out of my mouth?”
Blaine glances behind him at Rose, who’s three tables down taking an order, her back ramrod straight. He returns his gaze to mine. “We can have your waitress get you a fountain drink.” He barks at Rose. “Bring him a Coke, will ya?”
“That waitress has a name. It’s Rose. And you know what?” I lean back in the booth. It feels good to have the upper hand. Blaine’s obviously the type of guy who’s used to thinking he’s in complete control all the time.
“What?” he asks in a mutter.
“I’ll have you know Rose has given me excellent service. She’s a true gem. A flower befitting of her name. I heard you yelling at her earlier, and I don’t appreciate it.”
Blaine widens his stance. His nostrils flare. “What’s it to you?”
“When a woman is being mistreated in my presence, I will say something, one hundred percent of the time.”
“What if it’s none of your business?” He rocks side to side, like he wants to strike.
“Verbal abuse is everyone’s business.”
Blaine grunts out a bark of a laugh. “Verbal abuse?”
The people at the other tables are zoning into this now, and I feel all eyes on me. It’s not like I want to cause problems for the restaurant since Rose works here, but maybe a customer or two will have to be collateral damage.
Blaine continues to skulk, like he’s a bodyguard waiting for me to act out. I eat a couple more bites of the carbonara. Rose brings a Coke and sets it on the table. I thank her and take a good long swig of the caramel-brown liquid.
I look up at Blaine again. “Like I said, you’re mistreating your employee and that’s not tolerable. So, if you want to stay in business, I suggest you start treating her and everyone else with some respect. What I’ve witnessed here makes me not want to come back.”
“Is this about the sardines or about Rose?” Blaine face curls in a sneer and he looks at her. “Did you put him up to this?”
“What?” Rose snarls right back. She crosses her arms over her chest and raises her chin. “He’s not wrong, though. You do mistreat me, and it needs to stop.”
Blaine’s mouth drops open and he’s speechless for a moment before he collects himself. His forehead is sweaty. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
“This is a matter that needs to be taken outside,” he says to me. “You have no right.”
I finish chewing my last bite of carbonara and swallow. I point to the remaining sardines. “And you have no right passing these disgusting things off as food.” I sit up taller, addressing the other tables in the room. “But the pasta carbonara? Now that’s good.” I gesture to the other customers. “You all should order that next time.”
A woman at the table across from us sniffs. She scowls at Blaine.
“I think it’s time you left, sir.” Blaine’s brow looks like it weighs fifty pounds.
I turn back to Blaine and pick up my soda glass, shaking it gently to jostle the ice around. “I’m finished eating anyway, so sure.” I raise my gaze to Rose and offer what I hope is a good, non-committal, I’ve never really talked to you smile. “Rose, would you mind bringing me the check, please?”
She smiles. “Of course.” She steals a glance at the seething Blaine. “And I’ll bring you a complimentary slice of our famous tiramisu, as well.”
She charges past Blaine, her shoulder bumping his upper arm on the way out. He gives me a look of death and spins on his heel.
When he’s through the kitchen doors, I let out a sigh of relief that that’s over. I just hope it doesn’t cause more problems than it solved. It felt good to stand up for Rose in my own way, even though it seems like she can handle herself just fine.
When she returns with the check and a clear to-go container with the tiramisu, I hand her my card immediately. “Sorry that got a little out of hand.” I feel the eyes of the other customers on me, so I rein it in. I don’t want to blow our cover. No one can suspect that it was premeditated.
“I’m sorry your sardines were a pile of crap.” One corner of her rosebud mouth twitches up. She waves my card between two of her fingers. “I’ll be right back.”
I’m already standing when she returns. I’d love to stay and talk with her some more, but it would add suspicion, and I don’t want to jeopardize her position here.
Her mouth is in a tight line when she hands me the receipt to sign. Did something happen while she was running my card? “Thanks for coming in. I hope you have a good evening.” Her voice is curt.
The playfulness between us is gone, and I wish I could ask her if she’s okay. But I can’t. I just sign, thank her again, and head out into the cool, autumn air. I resist the urge to turn back around to glance at Rose. I don’t want to leave things like this, but it seems I don’t have a choice.
I unlock my car and move to get in, but something stops me. Instead of getting in, I scratch at the back of my head, concern flaring in my brain.
I can’t go home yet.