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Tina, one of the waitresses who’d been there when I arrived on my first day, had shown me where everything was and then left me to my own devices. No training, no doubling up with her, nothing.
I’d worked in a lot of diners, but that was years ago. And the system here was much different. But nobody seemed to care if I screwed up orders because I thought I’d put in one thing when it was something different—which I had done repeatedly.
The past week had been getting worse by the day. The tips were terrible, the food was always on the edge of being safe to serve, and the cook had made it his mission to make my life as miserable as possible.
And now I was getting yelled at for not delivering what was basically an egg sandwich, even though I knew I’d put the order through correctly.
Damn Saul.
The handsy cook refused to make more than little changes to the menu. And since it wasn’t him who had to bear the wrath of our customers, he continued to ignore most changed orders. Sometimes he was feeling generous, but most times he didn’t. Like right now.
My brittle smile wasn’t even close to convincing. And my unhappy customer knew it when she narrowed her eyes at me, shoving the plate with the sub to the edge of the table.
I caught it as it was about to slide off. Barney had made sure I knew that anything I broke would come out of my paycheck. I’d worked in plenty of diners before I met William, and that had never been a thing back then.
But I’d been out of the game for a while, so maybe rules had changed. I was desperate for a job and wouldn’t question things when I’d only just started.
“I’m so sorry. I’ll get you a replacement.”
“You better. I mean, how hard can it be to leave the tuna out?”
Picking up the plate, I winced when it touched the burn on my hand. I’d accidentally touched the hot stove this morning, and instead of putting ice or burn cream on it, I’d kept working since we’d been slammed. “Of course. I’ll be right back.”
I only had ten minutes left on my shift, my eyes wandering to the clock over the entrance for the hundredth time.
“Can you please make the sandwich for table seven again?” I asked, pushing the plate through the opening to the kitchen. “Without the tuna this time.”
Saul grunted, but whether it was in approval or disgust was anyone’s guess. I only hoped that whatever he planned on doing, he’d do it fast.
I checked my table one last time, making sure everyone was happy, then circled back to the kitchen.
The sandwich was sitting on the counter, and I couldn’t see any tuna this time. My body relaxed a little. Delivering the sandwich to table seven, I was thinking of dinner options.
I’d had the early shift today and would be home before anyone else. I’d get Sofie from school on my way home, and we could stop at the supermarket to get what we needed.
“Are you stupid?” the tuna sandwich without the tuna lady yelled at me. “There’s still tuna in here.”
I didn’t realize what she was about to do until it was too late. The sandwich landed on my head, the tuna sticking to my hair.
It’slaughable that I thought I could ever be more.
I turned around without another word. She was the customer, after all. They’d certainly fire me if I did what I really wanted to do, which was throw the bits of sandwich still clinging to me right back at her.
After locking myself inside the bathroom, I plucked bits of tuna and bread off my hair and clothes. Once I’d cleaned myself up as much as I could with soap and paper towels, I handed over my tables to Tina and left without another word.
When I pulled up to the school, Sofie was already waiting outside, waving at me as soon as she saw my car, her whole body swaying back and forth from the movement.
“Hey, Auntie Thea.” Her greeting was enthusiastic as always as she threw herself into the passenger seat. “You’ll never believe what Kayla did today.” Sofie inserted a dramatic pause, complete with her eyes widening comically. “She kissed Miller.”
“Hey, munchkin. Isn’t she too young to be going around kissing boys?”
“Totally. The teacher thought so, too, and she had to stay back for detention.”
I pulled away from the school, my driving resembling that of an eighty-year-old. William had insisted I take at least one of my cars with me when I left. Apparently it was rude to give back presents.
I’d chosen the least conspicuous of the cars, my Mercedes SLR. The other ones he’d given me would draw much more attention.
I’d been tempted to sell them to make life a little easier. I was sure William wouldn’t mind if I did, but they were still in his garage. If I ended up selling them, I’d have to go back and tell him what I planned. Then he’d insist on giving me money, and it would all end in an argument.
