Chapter 2
I blinked, shaking myself out of my shock to focus. Do your job, Birdie!
The man standing beside Tall and Handsome looked around for an empty table. When none could be found, he whispered to another of their friends, a very handsome Black man with an impeccable fade, who looked like he might be in charge.
Tall and Handsome caught my eye as I spotted a newly empty booth in the back corner of the bar. I sighed. You better be a good tipper, I thought. If his friends’ clothes were any indication, they weren’t short on money.
I approached the group. “Hey, guys, there’s a booth available in the back corner.”
Tall and Handsome inclined his head toward me, raising an eyebrow. “Imagine seeing you here.”
“Don’t worry, I’m a much better server than I am a debater,” I quipped as I led them to the table.
“Let’s hope so,” he replied, his friends exchanging glances behind him as we walked.
“I’ll be back in a sec to take your order,” I said as the guys shuffled into the booth.
I wondered what Tall and Handsome was doing with a group of GQ models.
His scruffy, casual look certainly didn’t seem to fit in with the impeccably tailored trousers, Chelsea boots and loafers, and fitted sweaters of his friends.
As I turned to the bar, I heard a familiar voice.
“Damn, it’s busy in here tonight!” Sam exclaimed as she hugged me.
“Hey!” I returned her hug. “I know! We expected it last weekend with Halloween, but didn’t think tonight would be quite this bad. I’m not going to have time to talk for a while. I’m sorry you came all this way.”
“Oh, don’t worry. It was a good excuse to leave early from a bad date.
” Sam laughed. “I’ll grab some food and wait.
Maybe I’ll find someone less irritating to buy me a drink.
” She winked, fluffing her dark curls at the roots as she glanced around the bar, her tawny skin glowing even in the terrible lighting.
I laughed. “That bad?” Sam had started the year with a resolution to date more and, true to her personality, had fully embraced the challenge.
“She was a total narcissist. Although possibly better than the guy last week who said he didn’t believe in showering.”
I shuddered. “All right, well I’m gonna take this order and then I’ll come back and grab yours.”
“Um, no need. I’ll have a tall glass of one of those guys,” Sam said, nodding to Tall and Handsome’s table.
“I mean, you’re not wrong. How is it that they are all that perfect looking? I need to go take their orders. I’ll be right back—you will not believe me when I tell you about my day.”
I grabbed my rarely used notepad out of my apron and the pen I kept tucked into the base of my ponytail and made my way back to the corner booth.
“All right, gentlemen, welcome to Americana. I’m Birdie and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. What can I get started for ya?”
Tall and Handsome and three of his companions looked to the man sitting in the back corner of the booth. He had thick blond hair, a chiseled jaw, and silvery-gray eyes. He looked to Tall and Handsome and in a European accent I couldn’t place, asked, “What do I get?”
Tall and Handsome looked at me. “He’ll have a Budweiser in a bottle. A dozen wings, mild sauce, and a side of blue cheese dressing.” He glanced back at the blond man. “That’s about the most American thing you could order here.”
“Actually, the most American thing you could order would probably be our bacon cheeseburger with smothered fries and a can of Natty Light,” I shot back. Tall and Handsome looked like he clearly disagreed. What else is new? I thought.
The blond man laughed. “Yes, I want that!”
“You got it. What else can I get y’all?”
Three replies of “same” in the same European accent as the blond man’s echoed through the booth. I looked at Tall and Handsome, wondering where this man with his standard American accent had collected four European companions.
“And for you, sir?”
“I’ll have what I ordered earlier for my friend.”
I refrained from snorting as I nodded. Tucking my pen back into my ponytail, I ducked behind the bar to grab their beers, dropping them at the table before heading to the POS to put in their orders.
A scan of the room told me it had emptied out a bit, so I slipped over to talk to Sam before I had to run my next orders out.
“What do you need to talk about?” Sam asked as Jake slid her a basket with a cheeseburger and fries.
“I’m being evicted.”
“What?” Sam nearly choked on the bite of burger she had just taken. “How is that possible? You’re like, the perfect tenant.”
“Apparently the building has been bought by some corporation and we all have two weeks to find somewhere else to live.”
“That is ludicrous.”
“It is. My landlord has a lawyer and said to contact them with any questions or comments.” I rolled my eyes and handed Sam the letter that the man had so nicely delivered that morning.
Sam skimmed the letter and the two accompanying pages while I grabbed another round of drinks for one of my tables and delivered the burgers and wings to the corner booth.
“So? What do you think? Am I screwed and really need to move out in two weeks?” I asked as I returned.
“Fuck,” she huffed. “Those bastards over there at Kline, Burke, and Bridges are the absolute worst. And I say that coming from a firm of equally shitty bastards.” She handed back the pages, which I folded and tucked into my apron pocket.
“Yeah, babe, a bunch of real estate lawyers have recently found this stupid loophole of a law to force you to move out. They’ve been evicting people left and right lately. I’m so sorry.”
“Great. Just great. And I’ve put so much work into that place, too! It was finally feeling like home.” I leaned my elbows on the bar and rubbed the spot between my eyes.
“Well, you know you can crash at my place until you find somewhere more permanent,” Sam offered.
“Excuse me, miss?” The man from the corner booth with the perfect fade tapped me on the shoulder.
His eyes, so dark they appeared black in the bar’s lighting, rolled over Sam, clearly checking her out.
He realized that I had caught him, and the side of his mouth tipped up in a sly grin.
“May we get some more napkins for our table?”
“Of course, I’ll be right over.” I glanced at Sam. “We can finish talking about this later.”
I grabbed a handful of napkins from the server station. When I got to the table, I realized that the man was still talking to Sam at the bar.
“Here you go, guys. How are those burgers?” I asked, taking it as a good sign when the responses were satisfied nods and mumbles as they chewed.
“I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that y’all aren’t from around here,” I said.
“We’re visiting from Wexstone,” one of the men responded, swallowing his bite and wiping ketchup off his umber-colored cheek. His biceps were the size of tree trunks, and he had pulled his dreadlocks back while he ate.
I quickly sifted through my sparse geography knowledge, silently cursing my terrible high school geography teacher. I couldn’t place Wexstone anywhere.
The blond man must have read my mind. “It’s in Northern Europe, in the mountains. We’re a small country, about 500,000 people. We’re best known for our pine trees and cranberry production.”
“Wow, impressive,” I admired. “What brings you to New York City?”
“I think in America you call it a bachelor party,” the last of the men—wiry, with salt-and-pepper hair—answered.
“Okay! Which one of you good-looking men is getting hitched?”
“That would be Prince Oliver,” said the guy who had been talking to Sam. He scooted back into the booth, pointing to the blond man.
“Prince?” I laughed. “Right, and I’m the pope.”
The table went silent as the guys glanced at each other awkwardly. Mr. Blond cleared his throat, his pale cheeks betraying the pink flush that instantly appeared.
I looked around the table, then glanced throughout the bar. As I did, I realized there were three additional men, all dressed in black, stationed strategically by the exits and near the restrooms. I spotted headsets tucked behind their ears. Holy shit, they aren’t kidding.
“How do you do?” the blond man—Prince Oliver—said, holding out his hand as I turned back to the group. It was my turn to blush furiously. Was there a protocol I was supposed to follow after making a complete idiot of myself?
“Um, it’s nice to meet you, Your Highness, sir…” I stammered, taking his hand and shaking it. “I’m so sorry, I uh…I don’t know what the proper protocol is here…”
“You can just shake his hand.” Tall and Handsome smirked. He seemed to be enjoying this. I shook Prince Oliver’s hand for what felt like too long and then awkwardly let my hand go limp.
“Birdie,” Sam said from behind me, “Vince here invited us to join them once your shift is over.” She slid into the booth next to her new friend.
“Did he now?” Tall and Handsome asked, staring daggers at the man who was apparently named Vince.
“Come on, Knox. I thought it would be fun to have some locals show us around the city.”
“So, I’m not good enough? I’m American, after all,” Knox forged an offense. “Besides, it’s Oliver’s weekend, I think he should get a say here.”
“I wouldn’t mind at all,” Prince Oliver chimed in.
“There we have it! What the prince wants, the prince gets!” Vince clapped his hands together before popping a fry into his mouth, a satisfied grin on his face.