IMAGINE... d.l.

Dinner In The Skyrise (au)

(in which you are a waitress for Demi and her family at a fancy restaurant)

You nearly collapse with exhaustion as you put the tray of dirty dishes down on the counter, sweat beading your forehead. You want to loosen your tie and rip of your red vest which is part of your uniform, but you can't. You look up at the several waiters that are on break, ties loosened, shirts partially unbuttoned, aprons off and balled up on the counter. They're all are gathered around a small TV. One of them has his feet up on the shiny metal counter. "Turn it up," one of the kitchen girls says, and he grunts and leans forward, swinging his legs off the counter, to poke at the volume button. 

I lean your chin in your hands, sighing. You desperately want to sit down and watch TV too."

One of your friends here laughs lightly. "Tired, Y/N?"

"Yep," you say, leaning back up. "And hungry as all hell."

"It's all part of the job," your friend jokes, taking the tray for you and you thank them before they walk away.

You work as a waitress at one of the fanciest restaurants in Los Angeles. You've been working here for more than a year which is sad, but you can't do much else. You moved to LA to get away from your smuggling family and hometown. You originally came here to become an actress, but you need money first. You live in a nice apartment a few minutes away from here. You usually work here from 6:00 to 10:00. It's pretty hard with the rude customers and the delicious-smelling food, but it pays well and the workers here are pretty nice.

It's 8:12 at night and the 4th of July, so the whole restaurant in packed. You haven't seen this many people in a while. You so far served two families dinner and they paid you well, so you so far have up to $45.23. "Yo, Y/N!" You turn around to see the waitress that checks people in.

"What's up?" you ask. 

"You're up."

"Who for?" you ask, fixing your hair. 

"Some guy and his family," she says. "But he looks rich. His suit looks pretty expensive."

You nod, fixing your vest and tie. You haven't had someone rich as your customer all year and now this is your chance to finally get paid some good ass money. You thank the waitress before you go fix your hair, apply more red lip gloss, and take out your notepad and pen to write people's orders down before you walk out into the restaurant. It's beautifully decorated with red carpeted floor, crystal chandeliers, crisp, white table clothes and sweet-smelling flowers in vases on the tables, and a stage filled with a band that's now playing a peaceful melody. The cool air conditioning feels good on your skin, the sleeves to your crisp, button-down shirt up to your elbows.

"So where is he?" you ask the waitress.

"Right there," she says, pointing at the large group of people sitting down at a long table. You thank her and walk over to them, and as you get closer, your breath catches in your throat. You spot the most beautiful woman you have ever seen sitting in the middle of the table in between a woman with short black hair and wearing a red dress with a black shawl and a man with his hair combed back and wearing a black button-down shirt. She looks like she's in her 20s like you, with long, dark red hair curled perfectly and flowing down her back. She's wearing a black dress with a push-up bra bodice and black, glittering high heels, the bottoms red. The red is short and shows off her beautiful, tan, long legs. It makes her look both classy and sexy. Her skin is tan and glowing, her body full and curvy even though she's sitting down. You can see her face which is gorgeous, her lips curled up into a smile, red and perfect, her nostril pierced. When she looks at you, her smile falls, her brown eyes boring into yours.