Page 3 of Unfounded

For weeks now, I’ve had the sensation of being watched and followed, but so far, I’ve not seen anyone suspicious. Maybe it’s just all the stress I’ve been under lately. My bank account was mysteriously emptied, leaving me in financial distress. On top of that, I’ve been getting calls and emails about accounts I didn’t open demanding payment. I have no idea what’s happening to me.

The only bright spot in my world lately has been the gorgeous man who comes to my work place nearly every day for lunch. Heseems to make it a point to look for me when he arrives. I’ve been making sure to seat him at one of my tables, which seems to please him. He is the kindest person I’ve ever met. So polite and well mannered. I wonder how he came to be in the wheelchair, but I’d never ask. He doesn’t seem to let his disability keep him from doing anything he wants to do.

I’ve never asked about his work, but I’ve heard him on his phone discussing jobs and clients. Sometimes he meets people to have a working lunch or dinner. He always tips well, and lately he’s bragged to the owner and some of his dinner guests about my excellent service as a waitress. It felt nice hearing him praise my work, but I don’t plan to be a waitress forever. I have big dreams for a girl who grew up without anything the way I did.

I’m in culinary arts school. My dream is to become a pastry chef and maybe, just maybe, someday own my own restaurant. I know that’ll be years down the road, but a girl can dream. I’ve just turned thirty, and while some people would say I’m at mid-life, I feel as if I’m just getting started. I haven’t had an easy life, but I’m not complaining. I’ve learned to be self-sufficient. However, if things keep going the way they have been over the last few weeks, I’m not so sure I’ll be able to continue to take care of myself.

I worry that with everything that’s been happening lately my dreams may never come to fruition. Someone is out to destroy me, and I have no idea why. I live a quiet life, keep to myself, and mind my own business. I don’t know why someone wants to hurt me, but I know everything that’s been happening isn’t just some fluke or coincidence. It’s a concerted effort to ruin my life. The not knowing who or why is driving me crazy. It’s all I can think about.

With my work day over, I hurry to my car and climb inside, locking the door behind me. I hate working the late shift now. I’m always convinced someone is hiding in the shadows ready to haul me off when I’m leaving this late at night, but due to myfinancial crisis, a girl has to do what a girl has to do. I drive the short distance to my rental duplex. It’s not in the best of areas, but it’s all I can afford. Honestly if things don’t improve, I may have to consider moving back in with my mom for a while.

I enter the foyer, and instantly goosebumps erupt over my skin. I have the uncanny sensation someone has been in here recently. I begin flipping lights on rapidly, checking the entire place, but I don’t find the faceless intruder I’ve envisioned. I let out a shaky laugh at myself.

“Calm down, crazy,” I say to the empty house. “There’s no one here, but you.” I open the refrigerator door and take out the bottle of wine I splurged on a few weeks ago, before my life when to shit. If anything called for a drink, this is it. I really need some hard stuff, but I’m a light weight when it comes to alcohol, I refuse to pay the price for a bottle of liquor that will take me years to consume, not that I’ll drink the wine up in no time either. This will be in my fridge for months.

At least no one can accuse me of being a wino like my sperm donor. He couldn’t bother to stick around and help mom raise me. He was too busy drowning in the next bottle of booze and looking for the next Mrs. Wrong. He never bothered to marry any of the revolving door of women who came and went in his life. I suppose he was the tiniest bit smart on that account.

Taking a glass from the cabinet, I pour a liberal amount of the ruby-red, relaxation-in-a-glass, delicious liquid into my wine glass, replace the bottle to its spot in the door, and head for the living room to unwind. I need to watch myself. I do not want to become what my poor father had become before his death: a drunk with no one at his side when his time came. I just need a little something to help me calm down so I can sleep. I have another long day ahead of me tomorrow.

It occurs to me, perhaps, that’s how it started for dad, too. Just needing to relax, one shot, one beer won’t hurt, right? Then the next thing you know, a fifth of Jim Bean isn’t enough. I takeanother sip of my wine but head to the kitchen to pour the rest of it out. I’m not about to ruin what’s left of my life with alcohol. I head to bed so I can go out and do it all again tomorrow.

The next afternoon, the jingle of the bells on the door of the Bistro draws my attention. I’m serving as hostess and waitress today as Sally Sawyer called off work this morning. Her daughter had her baby during the night, and Sally is taking a few weeks off to help with the new grandbaby, which means we’ll be working short for the foreseeable future. I’ll be pulling longer shifts and extra days, but that’s okay. I need the extra money the tips and longer hours will bring in. I’ve been struggling to pay my rent and utilities since the bank account fiasco. The bank is looking into it, but I’m afraid they’re never going to figure out what happened and get my money back. I’ve changed my account number, but it’s not going to be easy to replace the money that was taken. Now I’ll be trying to attend school and work long hours. I’ll be getting very little if any sleep, but it’s only two weeks. Surely I can survive the long days.

My heart flutters in my chest when I see who’s entering the bistro. It’s Luke Robertson. The handsome man in the wheelchair who’s on my mind more often than I’d like to admit. He’s so sexy I can’t keep my eyes off him. His jet-black hair, with a matching full beard and mustache, is right up my alley in what I like in a man. I can tell he’s really strong, too. His biceps are huge, stretching the fabric of his dress shirt to the brink. He has his sleeves rolled up to his elbows today, and I can’t keep my eyes from watching the way the muscles in his forearms move as he rolls his chair. The man must work out regularly, although I suppose wheeling himself around helps in that department as well. I hurry over to greet him and his three companions when they enter.

“Hello Luke, welcome to the Bistro,” I greet them. “How many today?”

“Hello, Marley,” Luke returns. “We’ll have the usual six. Therest are on their way. They should be here soon.” I nod as I look over the restaurant map. It feels like déjà vu. So many times, I’ve gotten a table for him and his posse of men. I see that I have a table open that’s large enough to accommodate the group, so naturally I’ll put him in my section.

“Right this way,” I say as I lead him and the other men toward one of my larger tables. I could have seated them at Laura’s table, but I rationalize that I’m better able to handle the larger group. Laura’s still training, and she is easily flustered even though she’s been here for months. She isn’t catching on, and I don’t believe she ever will. She has no motivation to learn or get better. I have more tables at the moment than she does, and some other waitresses would complain that I’m trying to get all the tips, but Laura couldn’t care less. She is very young and spoiled. She’s only working because her parents are making her in an attempt to instill the value of a dollar in her, but I don’t think it’s going to take. She doesn’t have a very good work ethic. She’d rather be on Tik Toc than waiting on her customers.

Luke is a very good customer. I don’t want him getting subpar service. At least that’s what I tell myself as we cross the restaurant. If I was honest, I’d admit I like being his waitress. He’s not only generous with tips and compliments but with smiles too. They light up his handsome face making him almost irresistible. I couldn’t help but notice he isn’t wearing a wedding band. I’m surprised he isn’t married, but surely he must have a girlfriend. Although I’ve never seen him with a woman.

I shouldn’t be daydreaming about the handsome man. He’s a successful business man, and I’m just a waitress with big dreams that will likely never come true. Besides, with all the trouble I’ve had lately, no one would want to get involved with me. And honestly, I couldn’t blame them. My life is becoming increasingly more difficult. It’s like someone is systematically destroying my meager pathetic life one step at a time, and I have no idea why. I’m a nobody from the wrong side of the tracks. I’venever had much and most likely never will. I’m fine with it. I’d made my peace with the direction of my life until all this began happening.

We reach the table, and I remove a chair to make room for Luke’s wheelchair. He smiles at me as I carry the other chair away. My already pounding heart speeds up when our eyes meet. I can feel the attraction flaring between us. My nipples harden of their own volition as my mind imagines him smiling at me in another, more intimate, setting. More and more often, my mind drifts in that direction whenever Luke is around. It’s been way too long since I’ve taken care of myself. I really need to do something about it.

Luke rolls into the empty spot I’ve made for him at the table. I will my racing heart and over active libido to calm themselves down. I don’t need to be drooling all over my customer like a hungry wolf over a rabbit. “Focus, girl get it together!”I chastise myself.

“May I get you something to drink while you wait for the others?” I ask when I have placed to extra chair out of the way. Luke looks at the other men at the table with him. They all nod and begin telling me their drink orders. Once I have them written down, I hurry off to the kitchen to get them, stopping along the way to get refill orders from a couple of other tables. My heart is still racing from just seeing the handsome man as I fill glasses with ice. I really need to get out more. Getting all torn up over a customer isn’t me. I’ve always been polite to my customers, but never really looked at any of them as anything other than a customer. That is until Luke Robertson came into the Bistro about a year ago.

Since the first day I saw him, my attraction to him as been strong and has only gotten stronger over time. He only came in every once in a while, at first, but over the last six months, he’s begun coming in more often. I suppose he doesn’t like to cook, or maybe he really likes the food here. I’m not sure which is thecase, but I catch myself hoping to see him every day. It’s bordering on an obsession. I really need to get him off my mind.

Even if he were interested, I don’t have time to date. Between work and school, I’m burning the candle at both ends. Now with the looming financial crisis, I have to be more focused than ever. I can’t afford to let one of the balls I’m juggling drop. Perhaps I should purchase a vibrator and actually use it so I don’t keep having these inappropriate thoughts. I shrug my shoulders to myself as I place the last drink on my tray.

I carry the tray laden with drinks back out into the restaurant, meeting Laura as I go. The girl has her head down looking at her cell phone, again. I can’t remember how many times I’ve talked to her about this and the near misses we’ve had. I try to alert her to the impending collision, but she’s moving too fast. I can’t get out of the way in time with my heavy tray.

A shriek leaves my lips as Laura plows into me. I wobble in a desperate effort to keep my balance, but as hard as I try, I can’t hang onto the tray. The impact is too much, and it tips to one side. The drinks slide to the edge and catch briefly on the lip of the tray, but all the weight is on one side, and the tray flips right out of my hand crashing to the floor. Glass, liquids, and ice scattering across the tile floor. All eyes in the restaurant turn toward us at the loud commotion we’ve made.

“Oh shit!” Laura exclaims loudly. Her eyes widen as she views the wet mess on the floor. She looks up at me after a second. Her face flaming red in embarrassment. I can feel my face is flushed as well not only from embarrassment for making a mess in front of customers but with irritation and frustration, too. Laura has been told several times not to be on her phone when she’s working. This wouldn’t have happened if she’d been paying attention.

“I…I’m really sorry, Marley,” Laura whispers. “I didn’t see you coming.” I sigh. I’m angry but yelling at her in front of everyone is only going to make matters worse. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes briefly as I pray for patience and understanding, trying very hard to remember what it’s like to be a teenager without responsibilities.

“I know you didn’t see me, Laura,” I reply, keeping my voice even and calm. “You were looking at your phone…again. This is just one of the reason’s I’ve told you not to be on your phone when you’re working.” The girl at least has the decency to look like she feels bad for causing the accident. “Stand here so no one falls on the wet floor while I go get stuff to clean this up.”

Laura nods her face deepening to a magenta shade of red. I turn and hurry to get the broom, dustpan, a mop, and the wet floor sign. The last thing we need is for someone to slip and fall on the tile floor. The owner would likely fire both of us if they got sued over a mess we made.

As soon as the mess is cleaned up, I fix another tray of drinks. Dropping off refills as I go, I hurry to Luke’s table. So much for giving him excellent service, I think as I near the men sitting around the large wooden table. It seems his other guests have joined the group during the interruption. I’ll need to get their drinks, too.

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