13. Vivian
Vivian
that night
T he Pork Belly is just as crazy and chaotic as you would expect for a Saturday night.
We’re all flying around the restaurant, wishing for rollerblades—or clones—to make it through the weekend rush.
Derrick has been slinging drinks and managing the bar seating area like a pro, while Sheila’s been serving more tables than should be humanly possible.
Thankfully, the guests are charmed by her sweet mothering and gentle jokes, and we haven’t had any complaints tonight about how long the wait is as long as the food comes out hot.
It isn’t until all the closing duties are done and the skeleton crew we’ve been running have gone home for the night that I have a chance to sit down with Claire. Finding her in her tiny cramped office hunched over her paper-strewn desk, she doesn’t stir when I lightly knock on the door.
“Claire?” At that, she startles, then accepts the wine glass I’m holding out to her with a grateful smile.
“You’re a godsend,” she says as she closes her eyes and takes a sip.
“Actually, this came from Derrick.”
“Oh?” Her eyebrows raise.
“Yeah. He’d just poured it for you when he got a phone call. Don’t worry, the bar was already buttoned up. Said he had to run and asked me to bring it over.”
“Huh,” she muses. “That’s not like him.”
“Agreed. He looked a little stressed, to be honest. Wonder what’s going on.”
She leans back in the rickety office chair that I fear is going to fall apart any day now. “Well, whatever it is, I cannot handle anyone else’s drama. I’ve got enough right here.” She gestures toward the stacks of papers.
“That bad, huh?” I ask her softly.
Claire’s forehead creases as her lip starts to tremble. It must be pretty bad. I’ve never seen Claire this vulnerable at work. “Yeah, it is,” she whispers. “Viv… I’m not sure what I’m going to do.”
Her shoulders hunch, two silent tears trickling down her face, and I remove the wine glass from her hand. Wrapping my arms around her, I try to infuse as much love into the hug as I can. “Shh,” I soothe, rubbing circles on her back for a few moments as she cries into my shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”
She pulls back, steadying herself. “That’s just it, Viv. I’m not sure if it will be okay.”
Wiping the corners of her eyes before her mascara runs down her cheeks, she blows out a weary breath. “The Pork Belly wasn’t in great shape when I got it. And even though we have the customers, it’s getting harder to keep up with operating costs.”
She glances at her cluttered desk. “Insurance and licensing and the building lease and taxes… and with this dot-com bubble nonsense, food costs are soaring. Even after we raised menu prices, it’s still not enough to offset the loss.”
Claire sighs and wraps her arms around her waist. “And the repairs we need to do to remain compliant… there’s just not enough cash flow to make it happen.
We have some really great nights, but the slow ones are draining us.
Never mind the fact that I can barely afford to pay you as it is.
” She blows out a breath. “Viv, you do such an awesome job handling front of house. I haven’t wanted to worry you with these details. But I’m running out of options.”
I place a hand on her shoulder and squeeze as she tries to gather her thoughts. “Don’t worry about me. You know I’m here for you. And speaking of people being in your corner, Derrick told me he might have some ideas on how to help.”
She scoffs, a choked laugh coming out. “Derrick? Please. He’s practically a baby.”
“Sure, if your definition of baby is six-foot-something and solid muscle.”
She laughs lightly at that. “True. But seriously, what could he possibly offer when he’s brand new to the business?”
“Oh, come on, Claire. There’s no way he’s as new as you think. Dude, buddy runs around this place like he grew up in a bar sink. You’ve seen what he’s done with that new system he put in place for stock, right? It has cut our inventory time by half.”
She nods slowly. “I guess so. I’ve been so busy that I haven’t really noticed.”
I reach out and squeeze her hand. “It’s okay.
I’m your second set of eyes.” I lean back against the wall and fix her with my gaze.
“Look, all I’m saying is that it doesn’t hurt to listen to what he has to say.
He’s obviously got way more experience than he let on.
Why not let him help us? You don’t actually have to say yes to any of his proposals.
We’re not talking about marriage here,” I tease, reminding her of what she told me the night I went to L’Aventura.
She opens her mouth to protest.
“You need more help than what I can give you,” I tell her, cutting her off before she can protest. “I love that you appreciate my efforts, but let’s face it, the actual back office part of this place is still foreign to me.
Let me do what I’m good at, taking care of front of house and making people happy, and see if Derrick can help with the rest. You can’t keep running yourself ragged like this, babe,” I say softly.
“I know,” she says. She looks down at her feet as she whispers almost to herself, “I know.”
Straightening her shoulders, she picks herself up, her signature smile back in place.
“Enough about me. Tell me all about Miiiiichaeeel…” she drawls, and I stifle a grin.
Fine. If she wants to change the subject, that’s okay.
Claire processes best on her own time, and she knows I’m here for her when she’s ready.
At least she’s open to talking to Derrick.
I relax back against the wall as I tell her about my date: the incredible food, the wine disaster, and the impromptu dance session.
Everything is punctuated by Michael this and Michael that, and I grow more animated as I speak.
Claire’s smile is wide when I finally wrap up with our plans to go to a bowling event his workplace is hosting.
“Viv, he sounds amazing! I’m so happy for you! You know, I could tell he was good for you when he came in the other night. Don’t think I missed seeing that sexy massage he was giving you, either. I’m sure he was good with more than his hands.” She winks.
“You’re not wrong.” I grin. “The mouth on that man.” I dramatically fan myself and pretend to faint.
“That good, huh?”
“The absolute best . He made me see stars I didn’t even think existed.” I pause, my thoughts turning serious.
“What is it, chica? I know that look.”
“Claire. He told me he was falling for me.” My voice is flat.
She covers her hand with her mouth, eyes wide. “ What ?”
“Before we— you know —he made it very clear that he wanted me. Wants me. He… asked me how I felt about him. Said he wanted me for more than just a night. He made it sound like a long-term thing.”
Her eyes search mine. “What did you say to that?”
Looking down at my hands, I admit, “I told him I felt the same way.”
“Vivian, that’s huge. If that’s how you feel, I’m proud of you.”
“But girl, he is so… noble. Honorable might be a better word. It’s like he’s a long-lost knight from King Arthur’s court; he’s so principled.
The man says what he means and does what he says.
He has told me stories…” I pause, not wanting to betray Michael’s confidence.
“All I can say is he operates by a code of conduct I’ve never seen before.
I’m in awe, to be honest. What if after he gets to know me, he doesn’t want me anymore?
” My voice drops to a whisper as I confess, “I’m not good enough for him. ”
“What in the Sam Hill are you talking about?” she demands. “I saw the way he looked at you. That man wanted to positively eat you alive and keep you safe while doing it.”
I smile because that sounds like exactly the type of thing Michael would do.
But my heart sobers as I give voice to the doubts that have been running through my head since I left his place.
“We haven’t gone into great detail about our pasts or anything, but I got the impression that once a girl doesn’t live up to his expectations, he breaks it off without a second thought.
Said it was a waste of time. And I don’t think I’m worthy of him. ” I know I’m not .
“Hold on. Did he actually say those very words?”
“Not verbatim, no…”
“Okay, so let’s look at this differently. What if he doesn’t believe in wasting time once he realizes it’s not going to work out? What if it has nothing to do with the girl at all, she’s just not the right one? Did he say anything bad about those other girls?”
“N–no…”
“Then where did you get the whole ‘not living up to his expectations’ part?” She rolls her chair to where I’m resting against the wall and carefully takes both my hands in hers. “Are those Michael’s words or are they yours?”
I’m silent, looking at where Claire’s thumbs rub over the back of my hands, reminding me of how Michael does the very same thing.
How they both try to reassure me and comfort me with their touch.
Showing me without words how much they care.
Especially when my best friend is trying to show me truths about myself that I’m resisting.
I blow out a shaky breath. “I just… I think I’m falling in love with him, Claire.
I’m scared of putting myself out there again.
He’s the best guy I’ve ever met. And he’s got such high principles.
I’m afraid he won’t want me when he realizes how damaged I am.
If my own mother thinks I’m a screw up, how is some stranger supposed to accept all the ugly parts of me? ”
“Viv, you know how much I love you,” she emphasizes with a gentle squeeze to my fingers, “but you are so wrapped up in your perceived faults that you can’t see that they’re not as big of a deal as you think.
Let’s analyze this and take the emotion out of it for a minute, shall we?
When he was massaging you, did you tell him about the fibro? I know that’s a big deal for you.”