Wanted by The Mafia [Bxb]

Ten

After Nathaniel enjoyed his scrumptious desert, he had to scramble out of his comfortable seat and fix himself. Customers demanding food had began pouring into the restaurant, irritated glares upon their faces.

Nathaniel had thought that customers would be nice, act like Valentino. Oh, boy, was he terribly mistaken.

On each table, there was a bell the customers could ring to call waiters over. The worst thing was, there wasn't any other worker that day except the two other cooks beside the one that got fired a few minutes ago.

Nathaniel was forced to run in and out of the kitchen, panting as his knees trembled, thighs burning, begging Nathaniel to just sit down and rest for a while. But the poor boy couldn't waste any time. He had to serve, clean the dishes, pick up empty plates, and ask the cooks to cook a little faster which ended up in his getting yelled at.

Nathaniel's proper, fresh uniform was clinging to his back, soaked in perspiration. His face was flushed as he panted desperately. This was honestly the workout of his life. He was hoping that his skinny arms would bulk up soon.

His arms ached, shaking as he held up that damned tray for the hundredth time that day. The people eating were giving him death stares, whispering and gossiping about how disgusting it was that the filthy waiter was sweating like a pig in such a fancy, posh restaurant.

Valentino wanted to tell Nathaniel to stop, take a short break to catch his breath at least. But he knew he couldn't. He kept his piercing eyes glued to the waiter, the image of the exhausted boy tugging at his heart strings.

The last time Nathaniel came out to serve a really crowded table that was filled with impatient people that were hungrily looking at the poor boy, ready to attack him if he didn't bring their food.

Nathaniel quickly served then their food, refilling some drinks when Valentino stepped in, catching him alone. "How's work going, kitten?" He asked, acting as if he hand't been watching the boy intently for the past thirty minutes. Nathaniel sent him a weary smile, pouring in some lemonade into the empty glass he was holding. "Everything's great, sir. Thanks for your concern."

Valentino could hear the tiredness through Nathaniel's tone. "After you serve the man's drink, go back to the kitchen and take a break. I'll get someone else to serve for you."

Nathaniel blinked slowly, lowering the cold, refreshing drink as he turned his head towards the taller boy. "What do you mean. There isn't anyone else working here other than me?" Valentino hardened his stare. "Are you questioning my orders?
Let me rephrase that; go back to the kitchen and take a break. I'm not asking, I'm stating." Nathaniel shook over the amount of authority Valentino's voice held.

"Y-Yes, sir." He quickly shuffled to the table, serving the drink and heading to the kitchen, his aching legs feeling relieved that they were finally resting after hours of endless work.

Valentino sighed, not believing himself for taking over for the boy. Zaire and Jackson never would've let him get over this. Ha! A mafia, the most dangerous mafia that is, is working as a waiter. For who? A boy he met a few days ago. How pathetic.