🎶A 100 bad days mean a 100 good stories ~ AJR
●Tara Afua Henrie●
"Ok." I set the plates of food in front of the customers seated in the farthest corner of the restaurant. Just as I was about to leave, the blond lady at the table grabbed my arm and shook her head. "Esta no es nuestra comida."
"Erm." I cleared my throat. "Pardon?"
Her gentleman friend spoke up in a thick Mexican accent. "This is not what we ordered."
"Oh." My face heated up with embarrassment. Not this again.
Both of them stared at me quizzically
"I'll... erm... I'll just... take it back then." I placed the orders back on the tray and scurried off, feeling two sets of eyes bore holes into the back of my head. Roberto slipped past me, trying his best to balance a different set of meals on his good hand.
I put the tray on the counter next to Areli, who had just handed a take-out bag to a customer. She turned to me, and the look on my face said one word to her--frustration.
"Wrong table?" Areli queried.
"It's the fifth time today," I groaned. "This waitressing thing is harder than I thought."
"Relax, Tara. It's just your first day," Areli assured me while sifting through order slips. "No one expects you to be immediately good at it. These things take time. Soon, you'll be serving tables with your eyes closed," she smiled, and I couldn't resist smiling back.
Areli has been super helpful today. When I, unfortunately, messed up my first order, she apologized to the customers on my behalf, explaining that I was new and took care of their orders. She also tried teaching me some Spanish when there weren't many customers around, but my brain refused to grasp a new language, so we stopped. I thanked her for her efforts, though. She was a true gem.
"Aha!' Areli exclaimed after finding the order slip for the food on the counter. "This order goes to table six."
"And which one is it?" I cast a look around the restaurant. This job would be much easier if the table numbers were actually on the tables. I made a mental note to tell Pam about them after work.
Areli pointed to the correct table, occupied by two female college students engrossed in a video chat. I thanked her, quickly delivered the meals to the correct table, and hurried off.
Almost at the counter, my feet suddenly decided to go against my will, causing me to trip and stumble. Before I could make contact with the floor, someone stopped me.
"Whoa! Are you ok, Tara?" Roberto's hot breath hit my face as he helped me stand properly. I gave him a nod, letting my eyes shift down to see my left shoelace untied and sprawled on the floor.
Stooping down to tie them back, the buzz of chatter and the clink of cutlery against china suddenly faded away, leaving just the sounds of footsteps clapping on the marbled floor. I shoved the laces into the side of my shoe and stood up, wondering what the unexpected silence was about.
Two grim figures, clad in black suits and a pair of black shades, walked past Roberto and me. They escorted a young man, impeccably dressed in a grey suit, and a lady, sporting a tight dark blue suit with matching heels, to a table beside the window.
The young man with luscious-styled hair removed his shades and pulled the chair out for the lady with a dashing smile. She sent him a seductive one in return as she planted herself on the chair. One bodyguard pulled out a chair for the young man, and he sat down, immediately launching into a conversation with his lady friend. The terrifying bodyguards retreated, standing guard at the entrance.
Meanwhile, the gentleman and lady didn't seem to mind that everyone in the restaurant was staring at them. Some people even held up their phones, taking pictures and videos of the couple seated by the window. I forgot Roberto stood by my side till he said, "Holey Taki Mushi."
"What? Who are they?" I asked.
"That's Declan Perez!" Roberto gushed out. "He's like a real-life Christian Grey—smoking hot and stinking rich. I heard he owns a fleet of cars that cost a million dollars each."
My eyes widened in amazement. "Wow, that's... insane."
"I know, right." He pulled out his phone, joining the customer paparazzi.
"What about the lady?"
"Her, I do not know. She must be his next female conquest or something." He zoomed in on Declan Perez and took a snap.
The regular babble of chatter came back, and I was pretty sure it was all about the rich guy who was busily charming his lady friend.
"Oh, I am definitely posting these on Instagram," Roberto remarked as he scrolled through his gallery filled with Declan Perez pics. "I really hope I can get a selfie with you."
"Hey, Camarero!"
We both lifted our heads to find Declan Perez gesturing for us to come over.
"Yes! This is my chance to get one." Roberto stuffed his phone into his pocket and snagged a couple of menus from the counter. "You'll be fine with the other tables, right?"
"I... guess?"
"Great." Without much of a glance, he hurried off to the rich guy's table.
Scanning the restaurant, I noticed the two college students I had served earlier vacating their tables. As I moved in their direction to clear the leftovers, the girls headed toward Declan's table right after Roberto left with the orders. They completely ignored his lady friend, focusing only on the rich guy. I watched them constantly flip their hair and giggle at everything he said. It went on for a couple of minutes, then they started taking selfies with him. I shook my head, piled the dirty dishes onto my tray, and left for the kitchen.
"Hey Tara, check it out!" Roberto called right after I'd set the heavy tray down. "I got it. I got the selfie." He sidled up to my side with the picture.
Roberto wasn't lying when he compared Declan to Christian Grey. The man was gorgeous. He had beautiful caramel eyes, a well-structured nose, and wicked sideburns that ended right on his jaw. His dark, glossy hair glowed like a crown on his head. He smirked at the camera, contrasting with Roberto's full-teeth smile.
"I look like a dweeb next to him," Roberto grumbled.
"You're not wrong about that," I laughed.
"But I'm still posting it anyway. Do you know how many likes I could get with this?"
"Order up, Rob!" Zazu called, cutting into our conversation.
Before Roberto could move towards the food on the order table, Pam shouted from somewhere in the storeroom. "Zazu! Roberto! ¡Ven aquí! I need your help!"
"Crap." Roberto turned to me. "Hey, would you mind taking out Declan's order for me?"
I was about to say no, then he added, "You can keep the tip if you like."
The mention of 'tip' made me smile. Since I was a very lousy waitress, no customer thought it was worth tipping me for my services. So Roberto's offer to dash his tip had me agreeing in no time.
"Roberto!" Pam shouted again, and he quickly scurried off in the direction of the storeroom.
"Thanks, T!" he yelled over his shoulder.
On the metallic order shelf, two steamy bowls of chunky red soup were on display.
"Huh. Red beef broth," I mumbled, remembering Pam saying something about the restaurant being famous for this soup.
Covering both bowls with food cloches, I picked up the silver tray and carefully pushed past the double doors.
I was almost at the table.
Almost.
Until my shoelaces decided to take a second breather on the floor!
My heart jumped in my chest when I felt this strange sense of déjà vu, but only this time, I knew I was going to fall because the person who caught me the last time wasn't even around.
My body lurched forward and came crashing down on the marble floor. The food cloches rolled away, shards of broken china skidded under tables, and red soup splashed everywhere. On my face, my uniform shirt, the edges of the green table cloth, and most unfortunately, on the expensive shoes and pants legs of our wealthy guests.
Stupid shoelaces!
"Holy crap, I'm so sorry." I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the jabbing pain in my hip bone. It was the least of my problems now.
The lady's shrill screams were so loud that I was surprised the glassware and windows were still intact. Declan just pushed his chair back, staring down at his stained shoes and pants.
"I am so sorry." I snatched several paper towels from a nearby table, attempting to wipe the lady's heels, but she kept kicking her feet. "No! ¡Aléjate de mí, estúpida camarera!"
Declan's bodyguards arrived at the scene. They shoved me out of their way, hurrying to their boss' side, and that was when I noticed my surroundings.
All the customers were staring at us, holding up their phones to record the whole accident.
"Oh no, no, no."
When I heard that voice, I wished the earth would just open up and swallow me whole.
"Please tell me you didn't do this." Pam and the entire staff stood behind me with looks of utter shock on their faces. My sister's bewildered eyes wandered around, absorbing the mess I'd created and finally stopping on me.
Areli came running to the scene, holding a wet cloth and a mop. Before I could even move to take any of the cleaning items, a deep voice bellowed out, "So this is how the staff of Originally Afro-Mex treat their customers?"
Declan stood tall and imposing, the red stains on his pants replaced by darker gray patches. His caramel eyes—now glittering with anger—locked on my face. "Despicable!"
Pam pushed past me. "Mr. Perez, I'm so sorry."
"Save it!" He growled, eyes still glued to my face. "And train your staff properly." He slipped his sunglasses back on. "Let's go, Ingrid." Declan hopped over the mess with his bodyguards trailing behind him.
Ingrid, his lady friend, scooted out of her chair with her pants still stained. She glared at me. Her left eye twitched once, twice, and the third time, her hand flew towards my face, but I grabbed it just in time. A flicker of astonishment crossed her features, then she forcefully yanked her arm out of my grip and followed her boss out of the restaurant.
*****
Question😊
1. What do you guys think of Declan Perez? Let me know in the comments.
Thanks for commenting and voting. Stay blessed.