The Cliche Gone Wrong

Chapter Five

"I put in that order 15 minutes ago, Rob. Where the hell is my food for table 8?" I clack my nails against the counter in annoyance, staring at the stove in hopes my stuff will cook faster.

"You'll get it when you get it," he huffs, turning away from me to stir one of the many pots before he flips something on the flattop.

I turn around and look anxiously at my tables through the glass window in the saloon door, checking to see if any of them are trying to find me. That's when I notice a new group of people being escorted to the only available table in my section. I loose my breath as I watch the five of them slide into the booth. I roughly grab the arm of my fellow waitress walking past.

"I need you to switch tables with me," I beg pulling her closer to me.

She struggles to balance the dirty plates in her other hand as she wrenches her arm away from me. "What table?"

"That table," I hiss, jerking my head in their direction. She looks over my shoulder to the table in question, her eyes narrowing as she shakes her head.

"Hell no," she laughs walking toward the door to the kitchen. "There isn't enough money in the world to make me wait on those demons."

Rob rings the bell twice; finally signaling my order is up, so I get back to work delivering the food to table 8 before I begrudgingly go to greet my new table.

"Hello everyone," I keep my eyes down on the notepad in my hands, refusing to look up at any of the faces on either bench. "Can I get you started with some drinks?"

"Well, lookie here," one of them laughs, "I didn't know you worked here Killer!"
I still refuse to look up, uncaring which one made told the lie.

"Wow, guys, we better be careful. She might try to slip some poison into our food," another jokes.

"Dude stop! The whole 'Killer' joke stopped being funny last week."

I look up in surprise, expecting to find his blue eyes locked on me but instead he is browsing one of the menus the hostess left with them. Everyone else at the table is staring at him in surprise, too, none of them bothering to look at their own menus.

"I think I'll just have a Coke," he smiles as he finally places the menu down, gazing up at me innocently.

The rest of the group mumbles their orders in turn and I quickly jot them down, escaping out of there as quickly as possible. Once I'm back in the kitchen Allison is waiting for me, a devious smile on there face.

"What did those demons do this time?" Allison asks as she leans against one the metal counters. "Spill the salt all over the table? Ask for a special sparkling water from the Chardonnay region of France?

"No, they just... ordered." I start to fill up some glasses in shock, preparing the drinks for the table.

"Ordered?" Allison cocks her head to the side as she hands me a tray to start loading up with drinks.

"Yeah," I shake my head as I fill the last of the sodas, before I turn and lean against one of the metal counters outlining the room.

"What do you think they're planning?" She asks, watching some of the other workers put the finishing touches on an order for one of her tables.

"I don't know," I heft the tray into my hands, careful not to spill. "But hopefully I never have to find out."

I push through the door backwards and glide to the table, placing the drinks down without a word, prepared to make a hasty retreat.

"We're ready to order now," Shills calls out before I can walk away. I bite my tongue, pulling out my notepad as I refuse to look at them.

"What do you recommend?" A girl from the left side of the table asks.