Endless: REWRITTEN

3. Zircon

Robin

"Hey..." My coworker and fellow waiter, Jean, grabs my attention as I'm uncorking a wine bottle. "Did table five get stood up?"

I turn to see the women who's been sending me off for an hour, on her phone, looking more pissed by the minute. I really find it hard to believe someone would stand her up... this is an expensive restaurant, they would have to really like her to come here, and now they're just leaving her hanging? Blasphemy!

"Maybe," I shrug. "I have my eye on it. Won't go back until her date arrives."

"You know we're going to have to kick her after half an hour more. Restaurant policy."

"I know," I mutter. I hate kicking people out because this is the time of the night where people make scenes, and if people make scenes, it looks bad on me. And I've already taken the blunt of scene-causers too much this week.

Of course, with my shitty luck, dude still doesn't show up after thirty minutes. At this point, the traffic in the restaurant is slowing down, so I can't even make the excuse that I'm busy with other tables. Okay... use your stuck-up polite voice. It lessens the blow.

I approach the table, but before I could get a word in edgewise, she holds a hand up. "A few more minutes, please."

"Actually, we have a policy on loitering. We're going to have to ask you to leave."

She looks up at me. "Then is it too late to order something?"

"If you do, I won't have to kick you out." I lean down slightly. "And between you and me, I'd like to go one week without having to."

She snorts. "Well, I don't think he's showing up anytime soon, so I think I'll have a glass of Pinot blanc."

"Excellent choice, I'll be right back with that."

My mind is on the woman when I'm retrieving the glass at the bar. Looking back at her, it's not just disappointing that the guy is clearly dead and couldn't get here, but that she has to sit here by herself and make the most of the 'date'. She's wildly gorgeous and most people would call my boss when I try a little bit of humor with them. She could be fun to flirt with.

But the last time I flirted with a patron, my boss threatened to toss me off of the Empire State building, and also threatened to fire me, so I decide against it.

Then I remember that my mind likes to fight me on everything. You know that little voice in the back of your head that's supposed to convince you to do the right thing? Yeah, that guy does not have my best interest in mind.

Because as soon as I set the wine down, my adventures start. "Did you want to order any food tonight?"

"No, I think this will be it," she replies, taking a sip.

"Aw, I feel bad that you had to come and wait for no one tonight," I shrug. "Any dish, on me."

"Don't dishes here run for three hundred?"

"I'm aware, I've been working here for a year."

She scoffs, rolling her eyes, but it all seems playful. "You don't have to drop three hundred dollars just to flirt with me."

"Was I that obvious?" I wince.

"Yes, you were. And I'm not interested."

"Okay, message received," I back off. At least my conscious knows how to do that. "I'll go get your cheque, madam."