Alex Wars

Chapter Three: Everything is Crumbling

"Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry!" I chanted as I rushed into the steaming and busy kitchen. Already changed into black pants, I hastily buttoned a black shirt over my tank top while I weaved through the chefs and their dangerous pans of fire.

"Ali!" I heard and whirled around to see Juanita beckon me over.

"I am so sorry Juanita, I missed my bus and then the next one was delayed, so I ran over here as soon as it stopped and now I'm out of breath and rambling and—"

"Hold your horses, kiddo! You're not in trouble," Juanita laughed out.

"Oh, thank God," I said, my shoulders sagging in relief. I then said a silent prayer of gratitude for having the best boss in the world.

"That doesn't mean you can take a break, you just got here!" Juanita exclaimed with a brisk clap. "Go! Hustle! Hustle!"

"Right on it!" I dashed out the kitchen to receive my assignment of tables.

Approaching my first table of the night, I donned on my perfectly practiced smile and recited, "Welcome to Sage and Saffron, I'm Ali and I'll be your server tonight."

Sage and Saffron was the best restaurant around. With foreign chefs and appetizers I couldn't even afford after weeks of serving it, it was rare for any kids my age to work here. In fact, I was the youngest staff member. While that in itself was intimidating, not to mention the demanding requirements and nonstop flow of people, the higher-than-minimum pay and enormous tips were definitely worth it all.

Once I got into my groove and rhythm, I began to relax. My other two tables now vacant, I approached my third table, reciting my opening with the smile that's earned me some pretty hefty tips.

"Hello dear, I'll have the champagne shrimp atop the creamy pesto," the lady at the table replied. She had some age to her, but "old" was nowhere near to describing her. She spoke with a refined air and she was nothing short of regal.

"A lovely choice," I said sincerely. "Will that be all?"

"Oh no, I'm just waiting for my date," she said, winking at me. "He's in the bathroom."

"Sorry I took long—"

I turned to stare in shock at the source of the voice I had heard this morning. Wes had a similar look on his face as he glanced at my work uniform while I looked over his blue button-down and black slacks.

"There's my no-good date for the night," the woman spoke up and my eyebrows shot up.

Clearing my throat, it took more effort this time to paste the smile on my face. "Hello sir, are you ready to order?"

Wes snapped out of his shock, now regarding me with a smirk. I was at the mercy of Alex Westbrooks. This was not going to go down well.

"I'm not sure," he said, sliding into the seat across from the much older woman. "What do you suggest I have?"

"Well," I began nervously. "Your company for the evening just ordered the champagne shrimp. If you likewise are in the mood for seafood—"

"Can't," Wes cut me off with a shrug. "Allergic to shellfish." I had the sudden urge to shove thirty pounds of shrimp down his throat.