𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐄, ʳᵃᶠᵉ ᶜᵃᵐᵉʳᵒⁿ

𝗏. 𝖽𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗇' 𝖽𝖺𝗌𝗁

𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐄      /       𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗏𝖾
❛ like you care, daddy's boy. ❜

THE WRECK'S DINING ROOM was all abuzz that hot July afternoon while Mackenzie Maybank raced back and forth between her seven different tables. JJ had taken off earlier that morning to the Château with an offer for Mackenzie to come along, but she denied seeing as she had a shift.

The girl was breaking a sweat in the heat. Unfortunately, the Wreck's A/C was too old to keep up with the scorching heat of summer in North Carolina, so as Mackenzie refilled water glass after water glass, she felt the sweat bleeding through her yellow t-shirt.

Mackenzie offers her table of regulars a kind smile as she brings them their drinks. "I'll be back to take your order in just a minute."

They thank her quickly before going back to their obnoxiously loud conversation. Mackenzie shakes her head and makes a sharp left, nearly running into one of her co-workers as she races to her next table.

Upon her arrival, she pulls her small note-pad out of her apron pocket, glancing around the table at the three middle-aged men. "Alrighty, are we all ready to order over here?"

"That depends," one of the men says sheepishly after looking her up and down, "are you on the menu?"

Mackenzie nearly puked in her mouth and immediately clicked her pen, shoving it back into her pocket. "Yeah, actually. See, I'm right there between 'Fuck Off' and 'It's Never Gonna Happen, Perv.'"

The blonde swiftly spins on her heels and walks away without another glance, rolling her eyes as they shout a loud "bitch!" at her. She b-lines it to the bar, leaning over it to her co-worker, Jacob, who stands by the computer, putting his table's order in.

"Hey, can you do me the hugest favor?" she begs as he glances over at her. "Take table 6. They're a bunch of pouncy-ass perverts trying to get into my pants while their wives are cooking for their seven kids at home."

Jacob quirks a brow. "That's quite the analogy."

"Please," she continues, jutting her lower lip as she pleads with him.

"Fine, but you have to take the bar." Jacob points behind her to a boy sitting at the bar with a glass of beer in his hand.

Nonetheless, Mackenzie nods. "Done."

Jacob nod, looking at her with a 'good luck' look before he takes off to the table she had just fled. Mackenzie sighs heavily, grabbing her note pad out of her apron again whilst she moves to the bar. "Hi, there. So change of plans, your server actually just—"

Her mouth clamps shut the second she see's the true identity of the person in front of her, suddenly wishing she'd stayed with the three perverts at table 6. "Rafe," she breathes.