Carter Ortese is Trouble - completed (The Boys #1)

Chapter 45: Carter

Celia lets out a small laugh. "That's the entirety of customer service, Carter."

"Yeah, but doesn't it get to you?"

"Of course it does, but you can't let it affect your job."

"I don't normally."

"I get it. This is a big deal for you, but I wouldn't be a good manager if I didn't give you some sort of lecture on how you need to shape up or ship out."

She stops talking, and we sit in silence. The clock ticks forward a few seconds, filling in the void.

I clear my throat. "Where's the lecture?"

"That was the lecture. Shape up or ship out." She crosses her arms over her chest. "But the thing I want to say as your friend is take care of yourself. You spend so much time worrying about other people, Carter, but what about you?"

"You know, a lot of people have mentioned this to me lately."

"Then listen to us. All of us, every person who has said be selfish sometimes." She lets out a long breath. "Do you need to take the rest of the night off?"

"Will I be fired if I take it?"

She barks out a laugh. "Dude, you have sick time that you have never taken. You're sick. Go home."

"Can I talk to Des first?"

Celia rolls her eyes. "What, you really need the bro out time?"

"You say it like it's a bad thing to have friends."

"I say it like it annoys me when you both are working together." She waves her hand. "Fine. Wait until he's done with your obnoxious table twelve though. I do not want to cover for that. Do some behind the bar stuff until then, but you're cut from the floor."

"Thanks, Celia."

"Oh, don't thank me. I'm holding this over your head next time I need a shift covered."

"I thought you said I have sick time."

"Yeah, you have sick time, but as a manager, I get to manipulate your feelings into making you do things for me." She taps my knee another time and swings the door open. "I promise to play as fair as possible."

"You always do."

She smiles at that. "Take care of yourself, okay? I need you for Saturday's rush."

"Big game plus the convention, I know."

"It's like our New Year's."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, you got it, boss."

"Atta boy." She shakes her head. "You know, I always wanted to say it, but it somehow sounds more condescending and sexist coming from my mouth. Forget I said anything."

Instead of coming up with another remark for that, I bow out gracefully. I busy myself with preparing additional packets of silverware and running another round of plates through our dishwasher. I ask our chefs if they need anything and restock the beer bottles in the front fridge from the walk in. I bus some tables when they've finished and refill the endless sodas to those who ask it so that Des doesn't have to do everything.

"Man, you owe me."

"Did she tip well?" I ask as finish switching out a tapped keg.

"No, not at all, and I blame you for that. Why did you put in half of her order wrong?"

"What was wrong about it?"

He blinks and thinks for a moment. "She didn't want cheese on anything. Anything."