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He counted seats and then turned and pushed another table into the row. “Permission to cross the counter,” he said.

I looked up at him over my place settings.

“I can help more if I can go behind the counter,” he said.

I glanced back at the mob clogging the doorway.

I could get in trouble for this. What if he got hurt in an employee area? If he slipped and fell?

Again, I opted for forgiveness over permission.

“Okay.”

He grabbed the high chairs I needed, then without another word went straight to the server station and started filling glasses of water.

I spent two hours waiting on them. Matty could only help with the behind-the-scenes stuff because of his costume, so anything coming and going to the table was all me.

They wanted split checks. They ran me ragged. They sent food back and complained, the kids trashed the table and floor, the woman who seemed to be in charge was rude.

I had three other tables to juggle. Matty helped the cook, got drinks ready for me, made coffee, assembled salads, and even made the three shakes they ordered, which took forever.

And then at the end when the big party got up to leave, they stiffed me on the tip.

9

MATTY

RHIANNON LOOKED LIKE SHE wanted to cry.

When I was busing the table, I noticed they didn’t leave any cash, but I figured it was a credit card tip. I couldn’t fucking believe it when she told me.

“You guys don’t add the tip to the check for large parties?” I asked.

She shook her head as she gathered up their dirty silverware. “No. The owner got complaints so they took that off.” She swallowed hard. “I just didn’t need this today.” Her voice was thick.

I wanted to punch someone.

I didn’t have the best luck when it came to bets, but I’d bet my saxophone not one of those people ever worked in a restaurant. And they did this shit six days before Christmas?

I think I was madder than she was.

“Hey, go take a quick break,” I said. “I can finish this.”

She sniffed. “I don’t want to leave you with the mess.”

“Just take a minute. It’s not going to help anyone if you’re crying when customers walk in and you’re the only one who can seat people—unless you think this should be the first thing people see when they get here…” I threaded my fingers under my chin and batted my eyes at her from behind my mask.

I managed to get a small laugh out of her.

“Okay.” She drew a steadying breath. “I’ll be right back.”

The second she was gone, I peered out at my car. I’d gotten a gig two days ago that paid me cash and I know I shouldn’t have, but I’d left it in the glove box.

Except I wasn’t allowed to leave. The bet said I had to stay in the restaurant.

Fuck it.

I dropped the rag I was wiping the high chairs with and ran out.