Chapter 9|I'm pretty sure I work in a Mafia hangout spot
***
"Ciao Bella! So nice to see you early," exclaimed the head chef, Bruno, as I sauntered into the kitchen.
Picking up a sliced carrot, I took a bite and gave him my best smile. "You saw me yesterday, Chef."
He gave me a look, whisk in hand, mixing up the same old recipe of homemade pasta sauce. "I said it's nice to see you early. You being on time is a miracle,"
I scoffed, almost choking on the carrot. "It's called being fashionably late." Picking up the tray on the service counter, I pretended to flick my hair behind my shoulders even though it was tied in a nice tight bun and gave Bruno my best smirk.
His sue-chef smiled at me and shook his head when I sent him a flirtatious wink. Matt was cool, he and I had a relationship full of kicks and giggles. No seriously, Matt had a hobby of tap dancing and whenever he tried to show me some moves I would somehow end up tap dancing my ass to the floor.
And Matt...well Matt would giggle.
"Two chicken lasagna's, extra fries, extra garlic bread!" My boss screamed as he entered the kitchen. I almost dropped my tray and had a stroke when the beefy italian walked in like king kong. "Miss Losièr," he nodded when walking past me to place the ticket on the board.
He then did a double take and suddenly whipped his face around so he was staring at me in shock. "Heidi! Are you...early?!"
I rolled my eyes. "Seriously, can someone please be happy that I'm here." I shoved the tray under my armpit with a scowl on my face. "I don't even come in that late,"
Rico, the king kong boss, blinked away the shock and scratched the back of his neck. "Heidi, you come in half an hour after your shift starts,"
"I-uh-well-um...I'm filing for a divorce,"
"From who, your job?" Rico snorted, slapping the order pad into my palm. "Get to work, missy. Time is of the essence," Rico waved me off, going through the desert kitchen to get to his office.
I stuck my tongue out at his retreating back and turned back to the service station.
Bruno chuckled at my furrowed brows and placed the dishes on the tray. "Maybe you should've come late like usual, Heidi,"
Picking up the tray I smiled sarcastically at him, amusement dancing in my eyes, "Hilarious." I replied as I pushed on the doors with my back to get to the restaurant front.
My eyes scoured the tables, looking for another old man with a dark black coat and cigar. Rico needed to pay me double, the men looked exactly the same. It even got to a point where I would accidentally mess up the orders and end up giving the wrong food to the wrong table. I did not want to hear another fight over a plate of lasagna as two men argued over who the real Dante was.
"Two Risottos and one Mozzarella pizza with a side of fries," I called out to the table.
A man with a balding scalp and a creepy smile lifted his fingers holding a cigarette. Instantly I held my breath not wanting to die from passive smoking since I was still pure and young and very much asthmatic.
I faked a smile with tight lips and set the plate in front of him. "Is that all Sir?" I asked out of politeness, still holding my breath.
All that practice of pretending I was a mermaid in the pool paid off, I was super at this 'hold your breath till you die' thing. Maybe I should play my shot at Nemo, see where it would take me.
"The grave," my father would say and he'd be right. But still, I'd have played the role of Nemo and that would win me an Oscar for sure.
"Sì dolcezza," he answered in a gruff, croaky voice. I fought the urge to grimace and still held that customer service smile in place. The struggle of being a morally good person. The others on the table continued to converse in heavy grunts and whispers. Perhaps to rob a bank, but hey, I wasn't one to judge. You gotta do what you gotta do.
(Sweetest)
"Great, let me know if I can get you anything else," And like Lightning McQueen, I vroomed the fuck away from the (possibly) ninety year old grandad who stared at me for an uncomfortably long time.
I shuddered, making my way to the bar, past my co-workers doing there jobs with equal fake happiness like me. We were all in the same sinking boat of depression - how cute.
I entered through the short doorway to the bar and grabbed my tray with both hands as I approached my victim. With a heavy smack on her backside, Rachel squeaked, spilling the coke from her glass before turning around to face me with wide, furious eyes.
"Heidi, you little bi-!"
I placed my palm over her lips and smirked. "Uh uh uh, no swearing at work." Rachel licked my hand and I grumbled in disgust, wiping it on my fashionable apron.
"My ass is burning right now," she muttered furiously under her breath, casually trying to rub her sore behind without anyone seeing.
I narrowed my eyes at her. "Well my cousin is up my ass about tutoring Aurora, because of you,"
Aha, that got her to stop being such a wimp.
Rachel's cheeks flushed and I smiled in triumph. "Shit, I'm sorry Heidi. I didn't mean too, he asked and it kinda slipped out."
"That's what she said," I couldn't help but snicker. Don't judge me, I'm learning from the grandmaster, Michael Scott, himself. What a king.
She looked at me blankly and I made that sexy fuckboy face again. Honestly it's just a reflex. "I take my apology back,"
I wagged a finger in her face. "Not happening sugartits. Now let me see, I am willing to accept a bar of chocolate in return for my mercy," I smirked.
Rachel slapped my shoulder with an unamused frown and went back to pouring coke into another empty glass. "Fine,"
Satisfied, I leaned against the sink behind the bar and waited for her to serve a very drunk customer.
"When did you tell Cruz anyway, I thought you were in rehearsal?" I asked, as she finished getting the bill from the man before turning around to face me. Yeah, Rachel was a theatre kid. A stranger would instantly know this because she had a 'I'm a theatre kid' badge pinned on her school bag. They're a different breed.
I waited for her response, playing with the edge of my apron, pulling out loose threads from the straps on my shoulders. Imagine if it ripped and I flashed a customer. I mean, if I wasn't wearing the white blouse underneath, but still. How scandalous.
Rachel mimicked my stance and crossed her arms over her chest as she looked at me carefully. "Rehearsal got cancelled. Stupid Darlene had a dentist appointment," she said in an almost sneer. See, theatre kid. Also who names their kid Darlene? What was this, the 80's?
I raised my brows at her. "So you hung out with Cruz?" The blush on her cheeks gave me the answer. "Just tell the dude you like him already,"
"Don't be stupid? I'd rather kill myself," she muttered.
I paused. "I'll help," Rachel slapped my right boob. "Ouch! Not Hakuna,"
"You want me to hit Matata instead?" She asked, palm ready to strike. I moved a careful inch away from her, arms folded over Hakuna Matata.
"Leave my babies alone," I pouted, then before I could continue my sentence, Rachel rolled her eyes in amusement and turned to serve her next customer. "Hi there, what can I get you?" She spoke in that polite waitress voice of hers.
I shrugged, deciding to snack on the chocolates from the junk jar under the bar.
"I'd like a whisky. Neat."
I scoffed, swallowing the caramel in my mouth before turning to glare at the customer who couldn't use manners.
Upon inspection, he appeared well dressed. The common black, double breasted coat and fedora. The hat covered majority of his face, except for the clean shaven jaw and seemingly soft lips.
He looked familiar. No, I'm serious, like someone I knew - Double P!
Holy freaking frack. What if it was him? Did he still have a gun? Was it that small gun I saw last time? Would he shoot me with said gun? But this was a restaurant...nonetheless a restaurant filled with potential criminals. I'm pretty sure I work in a Mafia hangout spot.
A clearing of someone's throat got me out of my internal panic and I almost jumped as Rachel shoved me out of the way. She reached to grab a bottle of whiskey and ordered me to grab a glass.
I brought it back to her, glancing at the guy sitting silently at the bar. It seemed as though I wasn't the only one cautious of him. The men in the restaurant had gone eerily quiet and a few customers at the bar turned flush and scooted a little away from him.
Did the guy have an infectious disease? The Bubonic plague perhaps?
"Give him the drink, there's another man waiting to order," Rachel placed the glass in my hand and I tried to shove it back to her. Seeing the look on her face when she pushed it back let me know my coward of a best friend was going to win this one.
With shaky hands and deep breaths, I placed the glass on the table in front of the man and smiled nervously. "Here's your drink, have fun,"
Have fun? HAVE FUN? What was he? Five?! And why the hell would I give a five year old whiskey?!! I needed to jump off a cliff right this instant.
The mysterious (Double P) man didn't move. His large hands typing away on his phone like a secretary, until they stopped and his fedora moved a millimeter in direction of the whiskey. He appeared to be conflicted with grabbing the glass.
Did he not know how to hold the glass? It's quite simple actually, unless well-um-unless you had no hands...or arms...or if you were a ghost for that matter.
I frowned, studying his profile whilst keeping an eye out for Rico. I was supposed to be serving, but instead chose to hang with Rachel. He was definitely going to kill me today.
Goodbye my sweet, sweet salary.
"Mi scusi?" Came a low, husky voice. It was from him - mystery man. It sounded exactly like him. The Italian lilt, the dark tone like velvet and chocolate, his fedora and mysterious aura.
(Excuse me)
Seeing Rachel busy preparing another concoction, I turned my full attention to the guy and walked closer to him, the wood of the bar separating us, easing me slightly.
"What can I help you with Sir?" My Hakuna Matata's were getting shot today.
"I ordered a whisky neat," he paused, face still covered by his stupid fedore. "This has ice."
I scoffed silently since he probably couldn't see me...or John Cena. Nobody could see him. Then an idea struck me. "Oh no," I started, "I apologise, I'll get that sorted for you right away." And proceeded to make him a new one in a matter of seconds since all the guys in here ordered the same fucking thing and Rachel still managed to get it wrong. Maybe it's because she's a theater kid.
Slamming the cup on the table, I think I startled him since he moved his hands quickly under the table dropping his phone on the surface.
I'm a hundred and ten percent sure he wasn't jerking himself off in the middle of a restaurant - that would totally be unsanitary - he was definitely going for the gun.
Aha, got ya!
"There you go, all nice and neat," I snickered at my pun, but the customer sitting next to him looked at me like I was a weirdo, my glare however got him looking elsewhere. That's what I thought, punk. "Would you like a complementary magazine with that? How about Polly Pocket?"
It took the guy a few minutes to understand what I'd said and my suspicions were confirmed when Double P's dazzling blue eyes shot up to my face in surprise.
I smirked in triumph. Also in a little awe. I mean how can one be that beautiful?!
"You?" He spoke carefully.
"Me," I grinned, a cunning smile on my face.
"Miss Losièr," he smirked, hesitancy all gone. "It's a pleasure to see you again," Double P then reached up to take off his fedora slowly, keeping eye contact with me as he did so.
"Can't say the sa..." I trailed off, my eyes widening a fraction.
Holy fucking cow!
I was so not prepared for the gorgeous locks of glossy, chocolate waves to ruffle down his head and fall against his forehead. My mouth opened instinctively before I could stop myself.
This man was...WOOO!
He was a breath-taking; jaw dropping; sweet mamma looking, sexy son of a (nice woman).
A lick of auburn hair curled against his tan forehead, skimming against his thick eyelashes that whispered along his golden cheekbones. He caught me staring, and I almost drooled at the mighty fine specimen sitting smugly in front of me.
"È la seconda volta che ti sorprendo a guardarmi in quel modo e non so se spararti o baciarti," he murmured softly under his breath whilst staring at my lips.
(That's the second time I've caught you looking at me like that and I don't know whether to shoot you or kiss you).
Why was I so hot all of a sudden? I'm not having a hot flush am I? Is this what it feels like to go through menopause? I better ask my mother.
But with the clink of glasses my trance was lifted and I blinked out of my horniness. Now was not the time to get so flustered.
"Don't pull that italian shit on me again," I spat, placing my palms on the table separating us. "Speak English so I can understand you," okay, so I was letting my sexual frustrations out on him, sue me. I was turned on like a fucking microwave, a speed dial, or whatever the hell else you could turn on!
Double P looked at me with a blank expression, and I almost jumped him. See, definitely the lack of my sex life.
"Again?"
I nodded. "Yeah, you kept whispering shit under your breath in italian the last time I saw you, and me no hablo Español,"
He looked at me unimpressed. "That's spanish."
I blinked. "My point exactly!"
Double P caught my glare with one of his own and clicked his tongue against his teeth. "I said I would like a packet of nuts," When I didn't move he frowned muttering some more italian nonsense under his breath before leaning forward like a predator, a dark look encompassing his face. "Please?"
I was going to d- wait what? For a second I thought I was done for.
But like rapid fire I hurried to the snack box and brought it out for him. "I know you didn't say that," he opened the packet with an unreadable expression. "You're sentence in italian was too long,"
See, smart.
Double P brought the nuts up to his mouth, exposing his neck, making me gulp. He chewed on them with a clenched jaw, sharp enough to kill me and stared at me with dark hooded eyes.
I gulped.
"You're right."
"I - what?" I was so confused, even the guy sat next to Double P seemed confused eavesdropping on our conversation. I waved a hand at him, a glare taking over my features. "Look buddy, this isn't a mothers meeting, you can go back to minding your own business." He blushed bright red, quickly scampering away when I sent him my best evil look.
Wiping my hands on the rag next to the coffee machine, I smiled smugly to myself. I was such a good bad person. It was childs-play.
"As I was saying," I turned back to stare at the devilish Italian, but he was back to typing away on his phone.
How...rude?! I was talking to him and he thought he could ignore me. What a dick.
Clearing my throat, twice to get his attention, Double P (I really needed to find out the dude's real name) sighed before casting his gaze on me. The blush I didn't ask for seemed to make itself comfortable on my face, but before I could speak, he leaned forward again, much closer to me that if I moved an inch we'd be snogging.
I mean I wasn't completely against the idea.
"Miss Losièr, you're pissing me off now," I gave him a look of disbelief. "I suggest you shut that pretty mouth of yours, before I do it myself," he sent me a cold smirk, one that made me uncomfortable. It looked so...emotionless. So psycho.
"And how on earth would you do that?" I asked, lifting my chin up not breaking eye contact. Please say you'll kiss me, please say you'll kiss me.
He shook the packet of nuts and asked, "You allergic?" I shook my head having no clue where he was going with this, but before I could ask, Double P gripped my chin tight yet strangely gentle and subsequently poured some in my mouth, while I stood frozen, until he pushed my chin up and closed my mouth before saying. "Chew." With that delicious low voice of his I automatically did.
What. The. Fuck.
He leaned back again, crossing an ankle over his knee as he took his time studying my face.
He twirled the glass of whiskey between his fingers, studying me with a predatory look. I wanted to creep into a ditch and die. My eyes began to water as I swallowed the nuts, almost choking. Great, I bet she said that too.
"Slowly, amore. Slowly,"
(Love)
One simple sentence. Three little words that had me hyperventilating like a wheezing seal. How? How was this happening? Did Rachel not see this, was she blind! The girl had fucking 20/20 vision, maybe 18/20 on a bad day, but still! I glanced around and she seemed to be in the back of the stock nook, completely blocked out. Typical!
The bastard leaned forward again, glass held out to me and smirked. "Swallow some of this," he was testing me.
And that's when I choked out. "That's...what he...said." Would you look at that, my dignity may be dead, but at least my humour wasn't.
I breathed slowly, giving him the universal one finger wait sign until I was no longer dying. Then I faced him, cheeks heavily burning and eyes glossy. "I-I c-could have you kicked out of here for doing that," I managed to spit out.
He raised a brow. "Go ahead, I'd like to see you try,"
I would have, had I not caught a glance at his smug sexy face just as I was about to stomp out the bar, wack him in the head with a dish towel and complain to Rico. So I simply smiled, making that smug expression fall slightly and calmly plucked the whisky from his hand, downed it in one go and slammed it against the bar.
"You're not worth it." Then picking up my service tray, I walked past the little bar door and sent him a two finger salute. "Thanks for the whiskey, really goes nicely with the nuts." With one last scathing look I turned around and walked away.
If Double P looked shocked I didn't see it. I hurried my way to the kitchen, ignoring the curious looks from the other customers, desperate to grab a cool glass of water before my oesophagus disintegrated.
"Heidi, where have you been? I rang for service fifteen minutes ago!" Bruno exclaimed, his apron full of stains and chubby cheeks flushed.
I sent him a shy smile, grabbing water and chugging it down. Then I balanced four plates of Carbonara on my tray walking backwards through the kitchen doors. "I'm super sorry for that Bruno, but I promise to make it up to you, I'll even make the lasagna myself!" Leaving him with a pleased smile.
I continued to serve everyone throughout the night. Although the presence of a hot bastard lingered in my peripheral vision, and I tried my best to ignore his sharp stare as he followed me around the restaurant with those ridiculously extraordinary, sea foam eyes.
But it still wasn't enough to distract me from my flaming throat. Maybe this was the part I transformed into a dragon.