Shattered

CHAPTER NINE

(Nina's Pov)

I couldn't control my foul mouth which cursed the person who had decided this would be the uniform for all waiters and waitresses for tonight's event. A tight, fitting white blouse paired with tighter black trousers, reaching just above my ankles. I felt stuffy, too large for my clothing and wondered if it were just me who was facing this struggle. Because by the looks of how the other workers moved around effortlessly, it seemed like I was the only one scrunching my nose up at this uniform.

Goddamn, whoever got my size down wrong.

What made me resent the attire even more, was how much movement was required from my behalf. I was sweating like a pig; sweat dampened my pits as my hair, that was once in a sleek, straight ponytail, had strands falling out, now all over the place.

I paused against the large kitchen counter, taking a deep breath and an incredibly small break before I went back out there serving all the wealthy people, mindlessly chattering and enjoying their night. 

Last week, I heard of a catering gig that would be serving a bunch of rich people at some large party of theirs, off a friend. I had applied for it last minute and somehow managed to score the job. I knew it would be hard work and that was mostly after taking a glance at the pay - $30 an hour. It was a 5pm-1am job and I was only looking forward to the money being transferred to my account once this night was over.

"Hey, stop standing about and take this tray of appetizers out there." The tall, black African-american man in charge of the of us waiters and waitresses, called out, ending my incredibly small break. Sighing, I tried not to glare at him as I took the tray from his extended hand. With one last deep breath, I pushed the kitchen doors open and stepped outside into the loud scene.

There was something so similar about all the rich people I had encountered in life. Something they all seemed to have in common. It was the facade of being uptight and snobbish fading the second they stepped into a party scene. It was as if they loosed all up-tightness and let themselves be a normal human being for once, ignoring the expectations set on them. Even many of the women who would lose themselves into the music they swayed their hips to, not even caring if a man came behind them, brushing their crotch against their ass.

I couldn't help but shake my head. These women and men liked to think of themselves as better and more sophisticated than the lower class. But in reality, it was as if they aspired to live the carefree life we lived. They would snoot their noses and look the other way if they saw a less better off person drunk on the streets, but then do the same at an event like this, where they were surrounded by the others that would judge.

It was all just a big hypocritical mess.

Forcing myself to move forwards, I went into my waitress mode, carefully walking around and extending the tray out to anyone standing nearby, mostly those looking empty handed. But that was rare to find. Majority of these people had a glass of either wine or fine alcohol in their hands, starting to get drunk or tipsy ever so slowly.

As I moved around the large hall, rented by the wealthy party thrower, most likely costing thousands with all its fancy decor, I couldn't help but sigh in what felt like envy. It was admittedly beautiful. Every single thing about it. 

There were crystal chandlers and lights attached to the ceiling, brightening up the large room. Polished, glowing, wooden floors were stood on by both well dressed up women and men; designer dresses and gowns, along with tailored suits, hugging their bodies perfectly. The scent of strong, rich perfume floated in the air, entwining with the men's powerful cologne. Various jewelry was worn by the guests, all sparkling when a flash of light happened to land on it.