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When he didn’t answer, I started to walk away. Horace got up quickly and grabbed me by the arm.
“Let go of me, or you’ll lose the hand,” I hissed.
“Is there a problem here?”
The Maître D had appeared out of nowhere, and I quickly collected myself. “No, sir, I was just about to take this gentleman’s order.”
The scant number of people in the restaurant had begun watching us, and I could feel my cheeks burn in embarrassment.
“Actually,” Horace said, “your waitress here was quite rude to me.”
My jaw dropped, and my eyes went wide. I stared at Horace in complete shock.
“I was asking her a few questions about the menu, and she was very impatient.” He gave me a devilish look, one that made me want to punch him and break his nose. “She wouldn’t even help me make a choice and just walked away from me. I was stopping her and about to call your manager.”
The Maître D glared at me.
“That’s not true,” I said.
“Are you calling me a liar?” Horace’s voice became louder, and the Maître D visibly panicked.
“No, sir, of course not,” he said quickly. “I will have someone else come and take your order immediately."
“No need,” Horace said. “After what she did, I doubt I want to eat here anymore. You’ll be getting a terrible review from me online.”
Horace gave me a smirk and then walked out.
The Maître D glared at me, and the vein in his forehead popped out so badly I was afraid it would burst. “Change and go home,” he spat. “You’re done here.”
“But that didn’t happen!”
He held up a hand. “Don’t make a scene, or I’ll make sure you never get a job waitressing anywhere in this city again.”
I didn’t go home right away but spent a good hour walking around the city, furious. A part of me was hoping I might bump into Horace, and that would give me the perfect opportunity to give him a piece of my mind. I wanted to hurt him like he hurt me. Never in my entire life had my work ethic been called to question. I prided myself in the fact that come hell or high water, I got the job done, and the fact that I could be fired never crossed my mind. Do the work, go over and beyond and, prove you’re indispensable, get paid. My father had drilled that in me since I was old enough to wait tables and mow lawns.
And I did that every day since.
I began to shake, feeling more embarrassed than hurt, but I quickly pulled myself together when I reached my building
Of course, Anne could see right through it.
And she didn’t hide her anger when I told her what had happened.
“That son of a bitch!” she screamed.
“Anne,” I warned her, gesturing to Jimmy.
“Sorry,” she whispered, then growled. “I’m just so friggin’ angry right now. That two-faced bastard."
“It’s like he has it out for me or something,” I said.
“Obviously,” Anne replied. “Rich white boy who isn’t used to hearing the word ‘no,’ and you think he’d be jumping through hoops to be a nice guy?”
“So what do I do now?”
Anne looked at me, then at Jimmy. “You can always get another job waitressing.”
I shrugged. “Honestly, and I hate to say this, I do feel a little relieved.”
