Table For Two

1 - Ali

It is eight in the evening and the dinner rush has been the worst thing in the damn world. I swear this ain't even living this is just some past version of me's personal confinement in Hades - having to break my ankles and slap on the most obvious fake smile (at least it feels real obvious when I wear it) to a bunch of self-obsessed narcissists who don't think of wait staff as people. The deep crimson tie feels like it's cutting off my carotid artery, these god-damned shoes are giving me blisters and the pants are starting to chafe. I clocked in at four and I could really go for a smoke. But instead I am circling the damn floor like a rabbit running back, forth, up and down in its hutch. I've broken two glasses and cut my thumb trying to clear up the second. The bright blue plaster might as well have "clumsiest bitch alive" on it the way some folks are looking at me.

I have one last table to serve before I get to take a break and as I approach... yeah, I can tell that they are on a date. They're both about my age or slightly older, maybe 19 or 20. One of them turns to me and he looks just like the sort of asshole I would avoid; looks like a red carpet wannabe - black hair styled immaculately, bronzed to the fingertips, threaded eyebrows and piercing blue eyes beneath them. Clothes by Zara, attitude of self-styled Instagram "influencer". He's rude and dismissive, ordering a salad and a cocktail (real living that best life huh, honey?) and gives me stink-eye and kisses his teeth when I ask to see his ID as if he doesn't look barely old enough to shave. Then I turn to take his date's order and, I swear, all the air just went completely out of the room.

He's really good-looking. Not in that "preened within an inch of his life" way his date is but there's something earnest about him that just stops me dead in my flow. He has long mahogany hair that he's tied back in a messy bun. A couple strands have escaped and fallen against the side of his face. He's got dimples when he smiles at me and his eyes are honey-coloured. He wears jeans and beat-up vans and a plaid shirt that's one size too big for him and he's looking at me with a smile that's warm like summer sun creeping in your bedroom window... and then I remember that this ain't a hallmark movie and I cannot be stood hear staring at a customer like that.

"Uh sorry, what can I get you?"
"Can I just get a burger and skin on fries please"

"Sure! D'you wanna drink?"
"I'm good with just Pepsi, thanks"

There's a scoff of derision and a comment designed to shoo me away from the table. I finish taking the order and smile at them before leaving. I look over my shoulder and I swear I see plaid shirt guy smile and blush while Instagram starts taking duckface selfies on his phone... yeah, real winning personality on that one. I get the order to the pass and move to the bar to get their drinks. Dee is behind the bar serving and she helps make the daiquiri while I just fill a glass with ice and press the Pepsi button on the soda machine. Dee finishes up the cocktail in the time it takes for the Pepsi to pour and me to slip a lemon slice into the glass. She gives me a smile that says "I am tired and you better roll me an extra cigarette when you get a chance" before she goes back to pouring pints, her braids swaying as she moves. I breathe a laugh through my nose and take the drinks to the table, trying not to let the tray wobble too much as it's balanced on my hand with the cut thumb and every time the plaster shifts around it stings but I grit my teeth and deal with it.

I get to the table in the middle of a diatribe from Instagram guy about how he has so many followers across his social media platforms and I stifle the urge to make a bitchy comment.

"Here are your drinks"

The Instagram guy glares at me like I just slapped his mother in front of a live studio audience and just tries to shoo me away with an immaculately manicured hand. Plaid shirt guy looks up and gives me another of those saccharine as southern sweet tea smiles and says thank you in a quiet voice. I practically run away from the table to avoid giggling like I have a schoolyard crush. About a quarter hour goes by and I serve them their food and then immediately decide I need that smoke more than I need oxygen. I head out the back and stand waiting by the door, rolling cigarettes and sure enough Dee emerges right after me, giving me that look that means she is about ready to go off.

"I swear if I have to deal with one more mouth-breathing chud talk about my skin tone being chocolate or wanting to touch my hair, I'm gonna get fired and arrested all in one evening" she fumes with an exasperated sigh as I hand her a lit cigarette and she takes a deep drag.

"Don't worry I'll post your bail" I say drily as I take a drag from mine and blow the smoke out through my nostrils like I'm some dragon in disguise. Dee just huffs a laugh.

"So are we gonna talk about that cute couple or nah?" Dee says as she quirks an eyebrow. I can feel my cheeks colouring.

"Ain't that cute" I try to say nonchalantly. Judging by the look on Dee's face, it was not convincing.

"Alister" she says in that stern mother tone she could pull out of nowhere when she felt like it and she knows I hate it.

"Deanna" I say back in a mock imitation of it which garners me smack on the shoulder "Ow hey! Rude"

"Well then take the bass out of your voice" she says with a look that makes me think twice about trying to push any further "I saw you have your little gay rabbit in a cute guy's headlights moment from across the entire floor through a group of business douchebags."

"Oh my god leave it alone" I throw my head back and breathe out a plume of smoke as I screw my eyes shut. She just chuckles.

"Whatever. We better get back in there and start to clear down" she says as she stubs the cigarette out on the brick wall and lets the butt fall in a sand bucket right by the door. I let her get a head start. I'm not in a rush. I do the same as her as I finish smoking and head back into the dull roar of diners and the clatter of the kitchen.