The Manny (Manny Diaries #1)

Harley

It’s another typical busy Saturday evening in the restaurant. I’ve been here almost six hours and still haven’t had my break, and I’m in desperate need of a cigarette. I’m already treading on thin ice with my boss after I arrived almost forty-five minutes late for my shift tonight. I also walked in on my boyfriend, Daniel and caught him in bed with another man. I swear I have never raced out of there so fast in my life. If I hadn't had to come to work tonight, I’d probably be at the bar drowning my sorrows in alcohol right now, so I suppose I should be grateful that I’m here. It’s bad enough I have to go back there tomorrow to collect the rest of my stuff. I only hope I don’t run into him because God knows what I’ll do to him if I see him.

I put my current order through the register, then wipe my hands on my apron before returning to the kitchen where I grab the next order. Crossing it off the docket, I grab the two plates in either hand, pass through the swinging doors and into the restaurant. I place the plates down on the table and hastily make my way toward the kitchen again, avoiding all the clicking fingers and people calling, “Waiter!”

as I pass them. I’m not a damn dog. There are more plates waiting for me when I get back into the kitchen, so I cross them off the list, and this time place two plates on each hand so that I’m carrying four. I walk through the restaurant again and place the plates down on the next table.

“Excuse me, waiter?”

For fuck’s sake. Can I just have thirty seconds without hearing the word ‘waiter’?

I sigh, then pull out the pen and pad from my apron pocket and proceed to the overly persistent woman at the table to my left.

“Yes, ma’am, what can I get for you?”

I ask, giving her my biggest fake smile.

“This pasta has prawns. I specifically asked for no prawns and no garlic. We also ordered a bottle of wine, and it still hasn’t arrived.”

“I sincerely apologize, ma’am. Let me check with the kitchen and bring you a new plate. I’ll also find out what’s happening with your wine.”

“That would be appreciated. Thank you.”

I grab her uneaten bowl of pasta and take it to the kitchen and place it on the counter.

“What’s the problem with this?”

My boss, Scott, peers his head through the shelving on the counter.

“The pasta has garlic and prawns in it. Apparently, the blonde at table 56 said she didn’t order prawns or garlic.”

“Who took the order?”

He sorts through the papers pierced on the holder and I gulp. “It was you. You took this order, .”

He slides the paper across the counter. “I don’t see any notation on here about no prawns or garlic.”

“I guess I must have missed it.”

“We don’t miss anything in my restaurant, . Consider this a warning. If there is anything else out of line in my restaurant tonight, it’ll be the last mistake you ever make. Do we understand each other?”

I nod.

It only takes a few minutes for the cook to prepare another meal. This time, when it’s placed down on the counter, Scott pulls out a dishcloth from his back pocket and wipes the dirty edges of the plate, before sliding it across the counter toward me.

“Don’t screw this one up. When you place it down on the table, offer her a complimentary glass of wine as an apology.”

The guy sure knows how to kiss ass to all his patrons, and I guess that’s why his business is so successful and why people keep coming back. I grab the woman’s order, as well as another order that is ready and walk out of the kitchen. I take the first order to the required table and set it down. I then move to the second table and place the plate in front of the blonde.

“My apologies for the incorrect order, ma’am. May I offer you a complimentary glass of wine?”

“That would be great, thank you. Perhaps a glass of your finest red,”

she says with a smile.

Sure, why not choose the most expensive wine on the menu and milk every penny.

I acknowledge her with a smile then proceed behind the bar where I grab a fresh wine glass and bottle of red, then walk back over to the table. After filling the woman’s glass, I return the bottle back to the bar and enter the kitchen. There are no orders waiting, so I untie my apron and proceed toward the back door, just as I hear Scott call my name.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

he asks as I spin around to face him.

“I’m going out for a smoke. I haven’t been on a break since I started.”

“You can go on your break when all the orders are out.”

“There are no orders,”

I tell him.

He takes a quick look around him, obviously trying to find a reason for me to stay behind and delay my break more than it already has been. I don’t want to piss this guy off, especially now when I need my job more than ever to find my own place. I have to leave my cheating scumbag of an ex-boyfriend’s apartment and find a new place to live. Just as I’m about to open my mouth and speak, one of the waitresses crashes through the door and places a pile of papers on the counter. She double checks all her orders and then makes a dash out the door. My eyes immediately connect with Scott’s, and the expression on my face and the silence must have spoken volumes.

“Get these orders out, then go and have your break.”

He’s out of the kitchen quicker than I can make my way over to the counter where four orders are yet to be prepared. With my highlighter, I put a line through each order and initial it before handing it to the kitchen staff. This time, I’m going to make sure I cover my ass and leave no stone unturned, or in this case, making sure that I check every order at least three times.

Once the chef places the first plate on the counter, I cross check everything with the docket, making sure I don’t miss a single item. Once all the orders are ready, I use the dishcloth to wipe away any residue on the edges of the plate, making the presentation pure perfection. I then place two plates on each arm and carefully maneuver myself through the swinging doors into the restaurant.

“Pepperoni pizza?” I say.

“Over here.”

One of the men at the table raises his hand. I move toward him and place the dish in front of him on the table.

“Mac and cheese?”

“That’s mine,”

the little girl in front of me answers. I slowly place the plate down in front of her.

“Buffalo wings?”

Another man, slightly older than the first one, raises his hand. I take a step toward him and place the meal on the table.

“That leaves only the pork ribs for you, sir.”

I place the final dish on the table in front of the older man.

“Thank you,”

he replies with a smile.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” I ask.

“No, thank you,”

the gentleman replies.

I nod and give them a friendly smile, then make my way back toward the kitchen. I do a quick check at the counter to make sure there are no orders waiting then turn to Yazmine, one of my co-workers.

“I’m going on my break. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes,”

I tell her.

“Enjoy,”

she replies.

I untie the knot on my apron and walk through the laundry room, placing it on top of the washing machine. I then open the back door of the restaurant, which leads out onto an alleyway, where the staff go if we want to have a smoke. I pull the packet of cigarettes from my pocket, slide one out of the packaging and slide it between my lips. I bring the lighter to the tip of the cigarette and ignite it, inhaling a rather large amount of nicotine before exhaling it through my nose. Smoking is such a disgusting habit and I’ve tried to quit many times, and just when I think I’m making progress, something shitty happens in my life, or I get stressed at work and I spark up another. It’s a pathetic excuse, but whenever I feel like crap or stressed out, a cigarette always relaxes me. And let’s face it. I’m going to need a couple of these tonight to get through the rest of my shift.

After my break, I head back inside the kitchen where there are a couple more orders waiting to be taken out. I tell Yazmine to go on her break and that I can take care of the orders while she’s gone. As I make my way through the restaurant and back into the kitchen, the older gentleman from the table I waited on just before my break signals me. I grab my notepad from my apron pocket and head over toward his table.

“Yes, sir?” I ask.

“Can I please have a bottle of your Shiraz?”

This time I notice his broken accent; it’s a mixture of American and something else that I can’t quite put my finger on.

“Sure,”

I say and look at the man, giving him my best smile. And holy shit, this guy is fucking deliciously good-looking and probably no more than a couple years older than myself. Black hair with streaks of blond running through it, dark chocolate eyes, a chizeled jawline with just the tiniest bit of stubble and an Adam’s apple that’s protruding through his neck, making me want to run my tongue over it. Jesus Christ, I’m on shift and fraternizing with a patron, practically undressing him with my eyes.

“Excuse me?”

The man’s deep baritone voice cuts through my fantasy.

“I’m sorry?”

“Is there something the matter?” he asks.

“Ah, no. I’m sorry. I’ll be back with your wine shortly.”

My feet couldn’t have dragged me away from that table faster. Before heading behind the bar, I go back into the kitchen and take a moment to pull myself together. A few hours ago, I caught my boyfriend in our bed with another man. And now, here I am checking out a patron, who is out trying to enjoy a meal with family or friends. My mind is such a mess right now. I know I’m supposed to be concentrating on my job, but I can’t get the image from earlier tonight out of my head. Seeing my boyfriend lying naked on the bed while some other douche was sucking his dick. One minute the two of us are all hot and heavy, headed for our very own XXX porno. Then the next minute, some asshole comes along and it’s all over. Everything was perfect up until that point … at least I thought it was.

I let out a long sigh and then head to the bar. I ask the staff member behind the bar to hand me a bottle of the Shiraz. He takes it off the shelf and pulls out the cork. He places the open bottle on the counter along with a clean glass. I grab a tray and evenly spread out the items to balance out the load. Balancing the tray on the palm of my hand, I wander through the restaurant, and as I get to the table, I somehow lose my footing. The tray falls from my hands, sending the glass and bottle of wine flying to the floor, but not before it spills all over Mr. Tall, Dark, and Fucking Sexy.

I immediately feel every pair of eyes in the restaurant narrow in on me. I quickly step into action, find my footing and stand tall, before reaching for the half empty bottle of wine that’s now lying on the floor and pick it up, along with the chipped wine glass.

“Is there a problem here?”

I hear Scott’s voice as his body towers over me and I gulp. Angling my eyes up at him, I slowly proceed to rise until my head is resting just below his right shoulder. The dude is tall, like super tall. I’m an elf compared to this guy.

“I’m terribly sorry, sir. I lost my footing and––”

“Mr. Harding, I can assure you that this has never happened before in my restaurant, and I take full responsibility for this employee’s actions.”

“It’s perfectly fine. No harm’s been done. It was just an accident.”

“A clumsy accident. I’m terribly sorry,” I add.

“Honestly, it’s fine. The suit can be replaced.”

“, how about you clean up this mess and head to the kitchen.”

Without saying another word, I clean up and walk as quickly as my feet will take me to the kitchen, awkwardly trying to avoid everyone’s stares as I pass them. Once inside the kitchen, I toss the bottle of wine and the chipped glass in the trash, then remove my apron and throw it angrily onto the counter.

“? Are you okay?” Yaz asks.

“No. Any minute now, Scott is going to walk through those doors and––”

“, a word!”

I don’t need to be Einstein to know what’s about to come next. I raise my eyebrows at Yaz then follow Scott to the back office. I step inside and he closes the door behind me.

“, I think you know why I’ve called you in here.”

I nod.

“I don’t think this is the right place for you anymore. You’re not in the right headspace, you’re constantly making mistakes with orders, and well, your tardiness could do with a little work.”

“Scott, I––”

“I don’t have time for your excuses, . I’ve got a restaurant to run, and now with one less staff member tonight, I have to do the work of two people. I warned you that if you made another mistake, it would be your last. Mr. Harding is one of our most loyal and biggest spending customers who comes in here three times a week. I can’t have my staff being incompetent and risk him not coming back and ruining our reputation.”

“I don’t see how one mistake and one negative experience would ruin your reputation. I’m a good worker, Scott. You know that. I’ve just … had a bad night,”

I tell him.

“, it’s not just tonight. You work five shifts a week and your performance has declined, it’s not where I need it to be. And I wouldn’t care about a negative review, if it came from just a regular customer. It happens in every business. But when it’s from our highest paying patron, and a man who is highly reputable in this town, it’s a big deal. I’m sorry, , but I have to let you go.”

I close my eyes and lower my head in disappointment. I know I shouldn’t be surprised. I saw this coming the moment that bottle of wine spilled all over Mr. Dreamy.

“I know this isn’t the ideal situation for you, , and I’m sorry. Yes, you have been a valued employee of mine for almost two years, which is why I’m willing to give you a month’s pay to help you out until you can find something else.”

“Scott, please. Just give me another chance. I promise I’ll be a better employee and be on time for my shifts. And I promise to be more careful when delivering my orders.”

He stares at me blankly and his silence speaks volumes. No matter how much I stand here and try to plea my case, it’s obvious that he’s made up his mind.

“I’m really sorry, .”

“Yeah, me too,”

I reply, flatly.

I turn around, open the door and walk through to the kitchen where Yaz looks up from the counter.

“What happened?” she asks.

I see Scott out of the corner of my eye emerge from his office. I lean forward and embrace Yaz in a tight hug.

“I’ve been let go, effective immediately,”

I tell her.

“What the fuck? Why?”

I pull away from her and say, “I’ll call you in a couple of days. Take care of yourself, kiddo.”

I head to my locker, remove my belongings, then walk outside the restaurant and rest my body against the brick wall of the building. I place my backpack on the ground, light up another cigarette and anchor my leg against the wall.

“What the fuck am I going to do now?”