Toby and Angel

Chapter 2: Mistake

It was Friday and I just knew that my shift at the restaurant would be crazy.
I was jumping from table to table, parroting the same customer-friendly programmed phrases all while balancing several trays of food and drinks.

Not to mention the rude customers that reduced the 'customer is always right' motto into a mere fallacy.

I was tired of wearing the same stiff uniform and hearing Gretel's annoyed voice through the Bluetooth headphone in my ear.

"Table seven has a complaint," her voice clipped through the headpiece.

Table seven? That was supposed to be Emily's table.
Why does she always disappear at the worst time?

I rolled my eyes and made my way to table seven. A group of five women sat there, all donning high end fashion dresses and stiletto heels.

"Good evening ladies, my name is Angeles, do you find everything to your liking?" I asked through a fake smile trying my hardest to keep my annoyance in check, because after all, it wasn't the customer's fault Emily was skipping her shift.

The one with a bright red lip answered, green orbs eyeing me up and down.

"No, actually. My fillet is well done and I asked for a rare." She spoke with pursed lips and an
upturned nose.

I stared at her plate. Her steak was soaked in blood and it took all my willpower not to roll my eyes at her.

"My apologies, m'am. Would you like me to speak to the chef? I can get a rare cooked for you in...," I looked at my small writing pad and then at my old watch, "about 10 minutes. Free of cost."

I gave my best customer-oriented smile and waited, hoping she wouldn't throw a fit.

"I want to speak to your manager."

And there it is.

"Are you sure? The chef can get it cooked in no time."

Her green gaze pierced through me and her upturned nostrils flared.

"Excuse me? I asked for the manager, I want the manager."
"Someone get me the manager," she repeated again, this time louder, attracting the surrounding tables' attention.
Shit.

"Do you not know who she is?" The one with curly blond hair asked.
Should I know?

"She obviously has no idea, or else she would be kissing her ass." one of the two brunettes spoke up.

"I'm sorry, should I know who you are?" The words slipped form my mouth before I could analyze them.

Her red lips curved into a devilish smirk and she scoffed.

"Who am I? What kind of disrespectful question is that? Is that how Palais Celeste treats their  valued customers? I didn't know basic courtesy wasn't a requirement for the job." She announced in a condescending tone.

"The more you know," the blond said with a disgusted look.

I really did not want to deal with them. But I really needed the money. It was my turn to pay rent. Zeki was going to be really mad if I couldn't pay my share. Again.

The pretentious ladies' loud tone had now drawn the attention of all the tables around us, their hooded eyes judging and their furtive mouths speaking in hushed whispers.

I needed to calm the situation down. Now.

"We're terribly sorry our service wasn't to your liking.  I will bring the manager right away."