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I turn to see an older couple sitting at a table by themselves and the woman’s hand is up. The man has an exasperated look on his face. I glance at Maria, who rolls her eyes as she passes me, her back to the couple. “They’re all yours,” she mutters.
I approach the table. “Hi, I’m the manager. Can I help you folks with somethin’?”
The woman wrinkles her nose. “Where are you from? Texas?”
“No, ma’am. Sweet home Alabama. What can I do you for?”
“What happened to your arm?” she asks.
“Bike accident. Can I help you with something?”You nosy ol’ heifer.
She huffs and says, “Well, this burger is rare, and these fries are cold. My husband’s—”
“Let it go, Melissa. My lunch is fine,” the man says, his hand on his forehead.
I look at the woman. “How did you order it cooked?”
“Medium well.” She points to her plate where she’s cut the burger in half. I can barely see a tiny bit of pink.
She thinks that’s raw? God, I hate people sometimes.
I grab the plate and say, “I’m sorry about that. I’ll have the cook remake it for you.”
I don’t wait for her response because I’m hurting and annoyed that Maria just couldn’t have handled this herself. At least she’s got two working arms.
After setting the plate down, I say to Rick, “Please remake the burger, and burn the tarnation out of it. Old bitty out there thinks it’s raw. Fresh fries, too.”
He laughs. “It was supposed to be medium-well. Don’t worry, I got you.”
“You da best!” I call out as I leave the kitchen.
Maria is picking up another order and I say, “Rick’s remaking table five’s order. Bring it to her as soon as it’s ready, and if she doesn’t like the burger, tell her to shove it where the sun don’t shine.”
“Ms. Quinn!” she says, her eyes wide. “You really want me to say that?”
“Obviously not, missy. I’m just not in the mood for Karens today!”
She laughs. “Okay.”
I really wish drinking on the job wasn’t frowned upon because I could use another margarita right about now. I’ll be glad when I don’t have to deal with people like this anymore. But something tells me as a regional manager, I won’t be getting off that easy.
***
“Thank you, Luke,” I say, getting into the car and sliding in next to Lincoln, who smells amazing and looks even more scrumptious in a dark suit and a shiny blue tie that matches his eyes.
Lucas chuckles and shuts the door.
“Did you just call him Luke?” Lincoln asks.
I shrug. “Yeah, so?”
He gives me a funny look, and I notice his tie isn’t completely straight as Lucas begins to drive us down the street. I reach up with my good hand and grab Lincoln’s tie, and he immediately stiffens.
“What are you doing?”
“Don’t worry, my hands aren’t greasy or nothin’. I washed ’em before I left. Well, I washed this one, anyway.” I lift my good hand, then the other with the sling. “This one’s been about as useful as tits on a snake.”
He stares down at me, confused, but is still staring at me, even after I let go of his tie.
