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“Well, if you want to dine in, have a seat. Stassi’ll be over to take your order. Otherwise this is for takeout orders.”
Back in the day, everyone placed their order at the counter, took a number, and found a table. While Ted’s shitty pizza hasn’t changed in years, I guess the protocol has. Either way, it’s a win in my book.
I wander over to a table for two, in a secluded corner, and slide into the booth, prepared to wait all night if I have to.
Knowing Stassi, that’s exactly what I’m going to have to do.
11
Stassi
“That man has a lot of nerve,” I mutter to myself as I turn the pizza order into the kitchen.
“What?” Robbie, our lead pizza maker today, scratches at his hair net.
“I was talking to myself.” I clip the paper to the line and slide it down. If Alec thinks he can just waltz in here in those low-slung sweats and faded sweatshirt that hugs his muscled shoulders … if he thinks he can swagger in here with that disarming smile and his sultry gaze pointed in my direction … if he thinks he can grab a table and force me to talk to him … he’s got another think coming.
Because he didn’t figure on Markie, Ted’s wife, being here today.
When it comes to men, Markie is a bitch on wheels. Ted might think he’s the head of his namesake pizza parlor, but Markie is the neck that turns the head. A little Italian tornado with long French-manicured fingernails, blood red lipstick, and a nest of wild dark hair piled on top of her head, she’s a force to be reckoned with and she’s particularly protective of the women who work for her.
Had she been here when Curly tried to grab my ass, she’d have promptly escorted him outside by his balls. This morning, all I had to do was casually mention the obnoxious frat boys who’d traumatized me during my last shift and how her husband had brushed it off, and Markie was incensed.
She yanked Ted to the side, and within seconds the two of them disappeared in the back room. When Ted came out, his shoulders were hunched as if he’d just gotten the ass-kicking of his life, and he refused to so much as look in my direction for hours.
“Who’s the smug Versace-model-looking asshole in the corner?” Markie nudges me. “The one that won’t stop staring at you. You know him?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Don’t worry, honey. I’ve got this one.” Clearing her throat, she throws her head back and saunters over to him, pen and pad in hand. The disappointment that befalls his handsome face when he realizes I won’t be his server is priceless.
As patrons file in for the dinner rush, I do my best to ignore the fact that Alec takes his sweet time eating his pizza. At the rate he’s going, the man must be sawing off the tiniest bites and chewing them at least twenty times before swallowing. Pretty sure he’s on his third refill, too.
Two full hours later, and he hasn’t moved. Not once. Not even to use the restroom.
“Have you ever seen anyone eat so slow before?” Markie says to me as we prep the kitchen for closing. “It’s like he’s eating in reverse or something. I swear there’s more pizza on his plate than when I first brought it out to him. How’s that even possible?”
I chuckle. It’s funny. But it’s also obnoxious because he’s wasting both of our time.
Yes, we hooked up, but if it meant anything to me, if I wanted a reprise, I’d have reached out to him by now.
“How do you know this guy anyway?” she asks.
“We grew up together,” I say. “He was best friends with my older brothers.”
Markie’s dark eyes flash. “That’s how I met Ted, believe it or not.”
“Did Ted make your high school years a living hell? Did he write you mean letters and make fun of how you looked?”
The lines around her lips deepen as she frowns. “No. Not at all. Ted was a sweetheart, believe it or not. I never would’ve married him if he did shit like that. Why’s this guy bugging you now? After all these years?”
Million dollar question.
“I hooked up with him the other night,” I confess with a sigh. “I was drunk and I thought … I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t thinking. That’s the problem. It was a mistake. I think he’s hoping it’ll happen again, but it’s not going to.”
“Was the sex bad or something?”
I roll my eyes. “I wish.”
Markie shrugs. “You’re young. You’re beautiful. He’s young. He’s handsome. Nothing wrong with having one of those … those friends with benefits kinda things … what do you guys call it these days? A situationship? Who says you have to date him? Just have fun.”
