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HADLEY
The music is loud and the drinks are flowing. My feet ache as I hurry back over to the bar. Kennedy smiles at me as she puts a bottle of expensive champagne on her tray.
“How is your night going?” she asks as she grabs several champagne flutes and adds them to the tray. “Because at this point I’m starting to consider quitting and finding somewhere else to work.”
I grin and shrug. “It sounds like it’s going better than yours. Jovan has a table here tonight and I’ve got another group as well. Tips should be good tonight. One man already slipped me two hundred dollars for getting the DJ to put on his favorite song.”
“Damn,” Kennedy says, stepping out of the way so I can grab the bottle of scotch Jovan requested. “I wish that I had your section tonight. The men I’m with keep trying to grab my ass. Rio looks like he might step out of the shadows and start killing people soon.”
I put the bottle of scotch on my tray before grabbing some glasses and a little bucket of ice. As I load up the tray, I look around. Sure enough, Rio is standing in the shadows just behind Jovan’s table.
Though he is supposed to be watching his boss, his gaze is firmly on the table Kennedy is working.
“Well, good luck with your drama tonight. If there’s a fight, make sure you take a video of it,” I say, my tone teasing. “We could probably make some money off that.”
Kennedy laughs and shakes her head, her gaze cutting toward Jovan. “How is that whole situation going?”
“He stayed the night the other night,” I say, keeping my voice low and making sure that nobody is listening to us. “But you can’t go running your mouth about that. I don’t want anyone here to know.”
Kennedy’s eyes nearly bulge out of her head. “You’re going to have to give me all the details later. I need to know everything about it.”
“You don’t need to know anything more than that.” I grin and lift my tray, balancing it before stepping out from behind the bar. “The second I give you any details, you’re going to tell Rio. The last thing I need is Rio knowing about my sex life.”
Kennedy squeals. “Alright, we’re going to finish this shift and then you are coming over tonight. I need to know what’s going on and I’ll give you some of that lemon pie you like so much.”
“You made me lemon meringue pie?” My eyebrows raise. “Alright, fine. But you better have some whiskey too.”
“I made a pitcher of vanilla whiskey lemonade last night too. You have to try it.” Kennedy gives me a smile before turning toward her table. “Meet me outside after work.”
“Will do.”
Rio glances up at me as I pass him. He looks over my shoulder and his eyes narrow. Without a word, he moves toward the other table.
Jovan laughs and slaps the shoulder of the man sitting to his right. I ignore whatever it is they’re talking about as I put the tray on the ledge that runs behind their table. I fill the glasses with ice before distributing them around the table.
“Hadley, we’d like one of the mixed platters of appetizers for the table,” Jovan says as I pour their drinks. “And then another bottle of scotch.”
I nod and pour the last glass before setting the bottle back on the ledge with my tray. “Is there anything else I can get anyone right now?”
“Not right now, darling,” one of the men says, giving me a smirk. His gaze travels up and down my body. “But maybe once your shift is over there could be something I need help with.”
“Enough,” Jovan says, his tone sharp as he glares at the man. “Leave her alone, Ricardo. We have business to discuss and I would hate to have to kick you out before we’ve done that.”
Ricardo chuckles and shrugs. “I was just having a little fun with your bottle girl. I’m sure that she would like to have a good time. Working for you must be hell for any sort of social life.”
“I’ll be back with the platter,” I say, hurrying away before Ricardo has the chance to provoke Jovan further.
Though I can still hear them talking behind me, I choose to focus on the music instead. I listen to the pounding beat as I head down the stairs and into the kitchen.
The scent of burger wafts toward me as I go to the machine and enter the order. A ticket pops up and one of the chefs grabs it, calling out the order to everyone else in the kitchen.
Now is as good a time as any to take a break, I think as I take a seat at a little table in the corner.
Pots and pans clang together, accentuated by fuck this and fuck you every now and then. I grin as I listen to the chaos, enjoying the moment to myself. There is something about sitting in the kitchen and listening to the chefs that makes the stress of my shift fade away.
It’s hard to be stressed when there are several people in a competition to come up with the most creative cuss word.
“You know, you’re becoming a real problem for me,” a woman says as she takes a seat across from me.
