Chapter 11 World’s Worst Waitress
WORLD’S WORST WAITRESS
DELILAH
It’s official.
I’m going to be the world’s worst waitress.
“Again,” Lucio says as he sits in the back corner of the bar, pretending to be a random customer.
Lucio’s been patient with me, setting up the afternoon for us to train, and he hasn’t complained once.
But I know I’m bad. Bad isn’t even a good enough word to describe the level of awful I am at taking orders and serving drinks.
Carrying a tray is easy when it’s empty, but add a few drinks, and I’m a hot mess with absolutely no balance.
Thankfully, the bar is almost empty. There’re a few regulars hanging around, but they’re too busy arguing about politics to watch how epically I’m failing.
I turn around, trying to regain my composure before facing him with a kind smile. I’ve already spilled three drinks and dropped the tray half a dozen times. “Good evening. Can I get you a drink?” I say, changing up the script we’ve gone over a hundred times.
“Good evening?” He raises an eyebrow.
I drop the straight face I’ve been able to maintain. “What? It sounded good.” I shrug. “No?”
“Delilah, look around the bar.” He waves his hand across the table toward the few guys sitting on the stools near the bar. “What do you see?”
I peer over my shoulder. “Some guys.”
“What kind of guys?”
“Regulars, I assume.”
“Yeah, but do they look like the type to say good evening?”
I peer down at the floor and kick the hardwood with the toe of my shoe. “Well, no.”
“This isn’t the country club, and the men who come in here don’t wear a suit and tie. Keep it casual.”
I shrug and blow out a breath. My feet hurt, and I’m irritated with myself. “Whatcha wanna drink?”
Lucio covers his mouth, but I know he’s laughing. The words are so foreign coming out of my mouth I can’t even stop myself from laughing too.
“That’s closer than good evening. Just be yourself.”
I go right back into my role, taking his advice to be casual and act more like myself. “So, whatcha want? I don’t have all day, mister.”
“I’ll take a gin and tonic.”
I have my tray tucked under my arm, scribbling his drink order on a pad of paper. “How about a double for three bucks more?”
“Nice touch and upsell. Make it a double. I’ll also take a Sex on the Beach and a Blow Job.”
I blink a few times with my pen hovering over the pad of paper, but I can’t seem to write out the words or make enough saliva to swallow without sounding like an idiot.
My face heats, and I can’t deny both sound pretty damn good about now.
I imagine the sun bouncing off his tanned skin as the waves splash over our bodies.
I’m so lost thinking about screwing Lucio, the tray falls from under my arm and bounces off the floor, bringing me right back to reality. “You want a what, again?”
“They’re drinks, Delilah. Sex on the Beach and a Blow Job.”
Last night, we were so close to having sex until Lulu used her magical kid powers and put an end to mommy time. It was probably for the best, but I can’t stop thinking about what could’ve happened and what the repercussions would’ve been today.
“Oh.” I’m sure he hears the disappointment in my voice because Lord knows I do nothing to hide it. “Coming right up.” I snatch the tray off the floor and march toward Angelo, fanning myself with the tiny pad of paper.
Angelo’s leaning against the bar, watching me as I approach. “Lucio being too hard on you?” he asks, giving me a kind smile as he stops whatever he’s been doing to give me his full attention.
I shake my head and blow the hair out of my eyes that had fallen when I bent down to pick up the tray. “No. He’s great. I just suck at this.”
“You don’t suck. Give yourself some time to adjust. Why don’t you lose the tray and leave the paper in your pocket? Only use it when you have a large order you’re worried you won’t remember.”
“I can do that.” I somehow muster a smile through my embarrassment. “I hope I don’t mess things up tonight.”
“You won’t. Strangers are easier to serve than someone you know.”
“Lucio makes me nervous,” I blurt out and instantly regret letting that little nugget of truth slip.
Angelo’s ice-blue eyes sparkle as his smile widens. “I think the feeling’s mutual, Dee.”
His statement makes me feel better. Lucio always seems to have his shit together, while I’m a mess of emotion. “I don’t know about that. He’s a pretty smooth talker.”
Angelo leans forward, closing the space between us.
“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he says as I lean in closer too, dying to know what he’s about to say.
“My brother is a smooth talker, but you fluster the hell out of him. I’ve never seen him so unlike himself around a woman until you walked through the door. ”
“Waitress,” Lucio calls out from across the room. “How’s my drink coming?”
“See,” Angelo says as he backs away. “He doesn’t even like me talking or getting that close to you.”
I peer over my shoulder at Lucio, who’s watching us carefully and doesn’t look one bit happy. “Coming, sir.” I smile in his direction, but he doesn’t return it.
“What did he order?”
“Double gin & tonic, Sex on the Beach, and a Blow Job.”
Angelo rolls his eyes and grabs three glasses before filling them with water. “Carry them without the tray and try not to spill more than a few drops this time.”
I carry the shot glass in one hand and the other two drinks in the opposite, walking as smoothly as possible toward Lucio.
His eyes never leave me as I get closer. “Here’re your drinks, sir,” I say, sliding them onto the table without being covered in water.
“Thank you.” He grabs the tallest glass and guzzles down the water like he’s been walking in the desert for days.
“Did I do better this time?”
“You did.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, green eyes still on me, blazing.
I resist the urge to grab a glass of water and down the damn thing too. The way he’s looking at me makes me want to crawl into his lap and beg for his kiss again.
“Grab the credit card reader from Angelo and make it quick this time.”
Is Lucio jealous of his brother? I never would have pegged him for the insecure or jealous type, especially not when it comes to his family.
Angelo has the credit card reader on the bar top by the time I make my way across the room. He dips his head but doesn’t say a word. I give him a small smile, not lingering too long because I know Lucio’s patience is already wearing thin.
I’m halfway to the table when the door to the bar opens with the familiar little bell chiming overhead. “Can I help you, sir?” Angelo asks the person, and I continue walking, ignoring everyone in the room except Lucio.
“I’m here to see my daughter.”
I can’t stop the credit card reader from slipping from my grip and crashing to the floor near my feet. All the blood drains from my face, and all the playfulness I was feeling is gone when I hear his voice.
“Your daughter?” Angelo asks as I turn around with wide eyes, seeing my father standing near the doorway.
“Delilah,” my father says, rushing in my direction with his hands outstretched. “Thank God you’re okay.”
I back up, moving closer to Lucio and farther away from my dad. He’s the last person I want to see. My eyes are already filling with tears, my vision blurring, and I can’t seem to walk away fast enough.
When my father grabs my arm, I pull away and glare at him. “Get the hell out,” I snap, not caring who hears or what kind of scene I’m making. I figure the few guys sipping beers only a few feet away have heard worse. “You’re not welcome here.”
“Baby, don’t say that,” he says, trying to touch me again, but I jump backward, slamming into a wall of muscle.
“You heard the lady. Get out.” Lucio’s voice is loud and deep. He wraps an arm around my waist and moves himself in front of me. “You’re not welcome here, Mr. Miles.”
“I’m her father. I have every right to speak with my daughter. She’s none of your concern, boy. This is family business.”
My father looks normal, dressed in one of his best suits with bright eyes and no slur to his words. He’s sober and doesn’t look as disheveled as the night he kicked me out of the car. So any hatred he spews is coming from a clear head and not the alcohol.
I grip the back of Lucio’s shirt, hiding my face as I wipe away the tears with my free hand. I don’t want my father to see me crying. He’s hurt Lulu and me enough to last a lifetime, and I’m not about to let him have another round at bruising my heart.
“Family business?”
I can’t see Lucio’s face, but every muscle in his back is tight, and there’s a low rumble, almost a growl, deep in his chest.
Angelo rounds the bar and starts to walk in our direction, when Lucio holds out his hand, stopping his brother from entering the fray.
“You have five seconds to get out before I toss you out on your ass,” Lucio tells my father.
God, I love this man for the way he defends me when no one else in my life ever has. My father should’ve always been my protector, but he’s been nothing but a nightmare. I’m done being his whipping post.
“Wait.” I yank on Lucio’s T-shirt and peer up at him.
Lucio looks over his shoulder, and I can see the anger in his eyes, but it’s not toward me. “You want to talk to him?”
“I need to say my piece,” I tell him. I know that I need to have closure and leave my father in the past. “Let me have this.”
It’s the only way I can move on and start over again. Pushing him out the door will only make him come back, and next time, he’ll probably be shit-faced.
Lucio nods, stepping aside without another word or an argument.
“Outside,” I say, not moving until my father starts toward the door first.
“Hey.” Lucio grabs my hand as I take a step forward. “I won’t be far.”
“Thanks.” I muster a smile, but inside, I’m shaking like a leaf. “I need to do this.”