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“Don’t you have a sitter?” she asks, sounding appalled.
“I didn’t invite him over to pawn him off on a sitter.”
“Fine!” She huffs and stomps off toward the elevators.
Drew nudges me. I look down at him and shrug.
We go up to my place, and before I take a shower I whisper to Drew, “Be nice to her.”
He waggles his eyebrows, and I have a feeling Red is in for it.
After I shower, I crack the bathroom door to let the steam out while I dress. I hear Larissa ask Drew, “What game are you playing?”
“Game?” Drew responds.
“Yes, game. On your tablet?”
“Oh, it’s a reader.”
“A what?” Larissa says. I realize she sounds kind of ditzy when she’s not on her back screaming my name.
“You read books on it,” Drew informs her. “Do you know how to read?” he asks, and I hold back a laugh.
“Yes, I know how to read, but I don’t choose to unless I have to.”
“That’s too bad. It could do wonders for your limited vocabulary.”
“You little —”
She stops abruptly when she sees me enter the room.
Two waitresses called out sick tonight. I need to have a serious talk with Davey about hiring girls with experience, and preferably girls whose heads don’t whistle in a crosswind. I’m doing waitress duty for the night, and we’re swamped.
As I finish taking an order and glance at the door, my night goes from a little crappy to a heaping pile of shit. Seriously, this night could not get any worse. A dark cloud just covered the restaurant and my only hope is the storm doesn’t hit too violently and passes quickly.
Tug approaches the hostess stand with his nephew and a tall, exotic redhead. I can’t help but laugh that she looks like the type to devour men. He deserves it. I hope she chews him up and spits him out.
I ignore them and go to the bar to fill a drink order. After I deliver the drinks, I find the happy threesome sitting in the back corner, and, thank God, they aren’t in my section.
Maddie, one of my decent waitresses, approaches, and she is nearly in tears.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
Three words later and she’s a blubbering mess. It takes her a moment to calm down. “That woman at table twelve refuses to let me serve her. She wants you.”
How did I know her distress was caused by table twelve before she said it? Because Tug doesn’t go anywhere without causing a stir—that’s how.
“What’s her problem?”
“You don’t remember her?”
I glance over at the table. I’d been so preoccupied with Tug that I didn’t recognize her, probably because her hair was up when she came in for lunch last week. Poor Maddie couldn’t do anything right, and the woman made a huge scene. I start laughing, and Maddie watches me, confused.
“What’s so funny?”
“She’s such a bitch.” Exactly who Tug should be with.
Maddie laughs, too. “She’s horrible. I didn’t do anything to her.”
