𝐅𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓; G. Ramsay

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞

"NO, BUT THAT'S not fair!" I yell, narrowing my eyes onto Rick. "I've been waiting for fifteen minuets, where the fuck is table four's order!?"

The heat in the kitchen was starting to get to me. Everything was pissing me off.
I'm standing here for ten minutes waiting for my table's food who keeps complaining to me because it isn't out yet.

They've yelled at me, and swore at me, like it was my fault I didn't have their food. I'm not the fucking cook, here!

"Rick! Where's her food? Communication!" Gordon snapped at the cook, lowering his brows with frustration.

"It's fucking coming! Calm the hell down." Rick shouted over his shoulder to us.
Gordon and I both raised our brows with surprise.

"Excuse me?" I snapped.
I was raised in Jersey, and I was told not to tolerate anybody's shit.

We're in Brooklyn, now, too. New Yorkers don't know how to control their temper, it's a known fact. Same with jersey folk.

Us two, we just don't mix.

I live in New York, now. Obviously. Otherwise, I wouldn't be working here.

"Don't fucking give me an attitude. The people at that table keep yelling at me for their food! They've been here for almost an hour, and still haven't gotten it!" I shot back at him.

My body was starting to shake. I'm having anxiety because I'm pissed off.

"Too bad! I've got at least fifteen orders right now, and we're behind because Tony decided to walk out! So just fuck off, right now."

I threw my hands up then let them smack down on my apron. I'm in disbelief.

"You talk to your coworkers like that?" Gordon shot up, facing Rick with a look of disgust.
"What is wrong with you, man? She just wants her food. Stop what you're doing, and take a breath." Gordon seethed, walking behind the counter to start helping him make the dishes.

"Where the fuck is Tony?" Gordon asks aloud, his eyes tracing the kitchen.

I sighed with relief. At least somebody had my back.
Marissa walked in, another server, and tapped her nails against the line. "Where's my food, Rick? I had a table walk out because they weren't getting anything." She hissed.

Gordon turned around with a brow raised. "They walked out?"

"Yup. With my tip." She pouted her lips with attitude.

I rolled my eyes. "And my table's about to do the same."

"We'll get your orders out, don't worry. Go tell them it's coming out in just a minuet." Gordon told us.

We both nodded, walking out side by side.
Marissa was twenty six, and a great waitress here. Her and I both know how frustrated Tony and Rick can be with each other, we've learned to just give them an extra push when we needed to.

It was a Saturday night, of course it was going to be busy.
It usually is, mostly for the decor.

People want an artsy place to eat. That was us. We just had the worst possible food you could imagine.