Table for Two

Chapter 1

Henry

"You're late."

"By five minutes, spare me." I scrabble past Gabe in the tight, cluttered office, throwing my apron on, followed by a disorganized, tied knot behind my waist.

"I can't keep vouching for you, Henry. I told you we're going into a new company, and The Owners want to get rid of some of the current staff."  Gabe exhaled a long, exasperated breath. She's crossing her arms and shaking her head, letting her dark red hair slowly flow over her shoulders. Perks of being a manager, I guess. Last month, it was Blonde.

I straightened out my white button-up and adjusted my apron over my black slacks. "I know, I know. It won't happen again. And I mean it this time." I gave Gabe a proper form salute, my way of promising my word before heading to the floor.

"Henry!" I turned around, skipping a step forward and gratefully catching myself. When I look up, I see Gabe is holding my worst enemy on her finger, letting it sway a little. "Your Bow tie."
 
                                                                                   ••••••••••

There was a low hum of chatter throughout the restaurant. Friday nights usually start slow but pick up towards the end of the night, so I was bracing myself for chaos. All my tables are on entrées, so in my book, they're taken care of.

I walked past the disheveled server station, seeing notepads, drink trays, and even menus that were supposed to be at the host stand all over the place. I hear a few servers nearby murmur about something. All I could pick up was "new" and "today".

"What are guys talking about?"

"Oh, some new host transfer's coming in today." Destiney detests plucking some olives off a toothpick and plopping them into her mouth. Destiney was a bartender today, so as a reward for herself, she's snacking on the olive and walnut stash even though it's against policy to eat and work.

"I heard The Owners picked her out themselves. Like, you guys don't even work at a restaurant to know what we need on the floor. All they do is come in, eat free food, and nag about everything we do." Abigail spoke softly, rubbing her long brown fishtail while staring at the black and white marble floor.

A customer walked in as soon as Abigail finished her inconsequential statement.

"Abigail. The Door." Destiney muffled with a mouth full of walnuts now.

Abigail hesitated in her spot. "But Judy's here." She quietly whispered.

"Abigail, I'm practically off the clock. I have five more minutes left." Judy stared at Abigail, then slid her eyes to the host stand.

Abigail slowly walked over to the host stand, letting the customer wait a minute and thirty seconds tops.

"The stupid girl. I don't know why they hired her." Agreed. Judy yawned, and her bangles were clanking against each other. "Anyways, I say we give the new girl shit and see how long she lasts!" Judy mischievously smirked and went on her phone on the floor. Again, something we're not supposed to do.

I didn't get the discourse about the potential new girl. So, what if The Owners picked her? It's not going to stop us from making money. And besides, we only have three hostess and two of them can't seem to do their job properly.

There was a low whooshing rumble from the sleek, high-end black revolving door. We all turned our heads to face it, and there she was. The new girl was walking gracefully, her head unwaveringly high, in high heels, a two-button fitted blazer, and a fingertip-length miniskirt. She clicked and clacked on the freshly polished floor and was immediately greeted by Lester. Our bald manager, who resembles The Rock if he were short, white, stubby, and on crack.