by Iona Rose
They’re the right thoughts for me to have, I know that. Now I just need to find a way to make myself believe them. I have a heavy heart when I walk back into the party, but I force myself to put a smile on my face and at least look like I want to be there.
Chapter Seven
Callie
I walk out of my lecture, a lecture about direct marketing that I’ve barely heard a word of, with my head down, trying not to catch anyone’s eye. I’m really not in the mood for polite conversation, or any conversation for that matter. I just want to head back up to my dorm room and hide away until it’s time for work. Not that I particularly want to go there either. In fact, that will no doubt be worse than here. At least in class, I can be miserable if I want to. At work, I have to plaster on that smile and pretend like everything is just fucking awesome all the damned time.
Well, it isn’t. It isn’t at all.
“Hey, I know it’s a Monday, but is there really any need for that expression?” Chloe asks as she comes up from behind me and slips her arm through mine.
I force myself to smile. I think for a second about the irony of it all. How I’m meant to be allowed to be miserable here and already, just seconds after thinking it, I’m wearing my work smile. “I was just thinking,” I finally reply.
“Bullshit,” Chloe replies. “Something’s wrong. You think I don’t know when your smile is fake? I swear, looking at it, I wonder how you keep a job working with people all day. And I know this mood has something to do with that guy at the party on Friday. We’re going to go and grab a coffee and you’re going to tell me all about it.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say shaking my head.
I told her this same thing on Friday at the party when she tried to coax it out of me there, and nothing has changed. If I didn’t pour my heart out to her when I was drunk, I’m certainly not going to do it now, when I’m sober.
“I don’t remember asking if you wanted to talk about it,” Chloe says. She pauses, making an exaggerated pout and scratching her head. “Nope. I definitely didn’t ask.”
I open my mouth to tell her to back off, but she interrupts me.
“You clearly need to get this out, but if you don’t want to, fine. We’re still going for coffee though. And we can talk about something different.”
We head down to the cafeteria. It’s quiet as most of the students have finished their last lectures for the day and are heading home. Lucky them. Maybe they didn’t get cornered, or maybe they know how to say no and mean it. Apparently, I haven’t mastered that one yet.
We get our coffees and Chloe leads me to a table tucked away in the corner. “So what do you want to talk about?” she asks. “I know. I’ll tell you about my day. Dr Herbert was away today and his lab assistant took over my lecture. Boy, is he hot. I have no idea what he was talking about, but he was so pretty to watch. And…”
Chloe’s right. I do need to get this out. And I know her tactics. She’ll go on like this about any old shit until she breaks me. That’s how she works. And it’s why it’s actually harder to resist spilling my guts to her when I’m sober. Drunk me can follow her babbling and laugh along with her. Sober me will do just about anything to cut it off. “I think he might be married,” I blurt out.
“Dr Herbert’s lab assistant?” She frowns.
“No. Matt.”
“Matt as in, hot Friday night party guy?”
I nod and look down into my coffee cup.
“What makes you think that?” she asks.
I find myself telling her everything. How Matt just kind of appeared in my life. How he was flirty and definitely giving me the come on, but then how he changed and became more of a friend. Finally, I tell her about how at the party, we almost kissed and then he got that phone call. The one that made him run away from me.
Chloe raises an eyebrow when I’m done. “And that’s it? You’ve decided he’s married because of one phone call?”
“It’s not so much the call. It’s the fact he took it when we were so close to kissing. And then the way he ran from me straight after it. It was like he’d let himself forget he had a wife, and then she called him, and he realized what he had been about to do,” I tell her.
She considers this, blowing on the surface of her coffee and then taking a sip. “It could be that I guess. But it could also be one of a thousand other things. Maybe he got a call to say someone in his family had taken ill.”
That would explain why he hadn’t showed up for work for the last two days. But it wouldn’t explain why he hadn’t so much as texted me. “So why didn’t he just tell me that?”
“I don’t know.” Chloe shrugs. “I might be way off base, but I’m just saying you should at least give him the benefit of the doubt until you know for sure one way or the other. Have you tried actually asking him?”
I shake my head. “No. He hasn’t texted or called me and I’m not going to be that desperate girl who texts him first.” It sounds petty when I say it out loud, but it makes sense in my head. Matt seems like the kind of guy who is used to girls chasing him, and I refuse to be just another desperado in the queue to bed him. I have a little bit more self-respect than that.
“Right. Sorry. I forgot we were living in the 1800s,” Chloe says. “Oh, wait! We’re not.”
I sigh and shake my head. “Look I know it sounds stupid, but I can’t just text him and accuse him of cheating on the wife I’m not certain he has can I?”
“Not if you’re afraid of the answer. Anyway, don’t you work with him? I mean you can ask around at work,” she says.
“That’s the thing. He doesn’t really talk about himself. No one at work knows a thing about him.”
“A man of mystery. I like it.” Her eyes shine as she leans in closer. “So maybe he’s not married. Maybe he’s a hit man and he got the call for his next job.”
“If you’re not going to be serious about this, then why are we even having this conversation?” I try to sound stern but I can feel my lips twitching and I can’t stop myself from laughing.
Chloe grins at me. “Ask him at work. Just put it out there, Callie. You deserve better than some cheating rat.”
I bristle at her description of Matt. It’s so far from the warm, funny guy I’ve gotten to know over the last week or so. Maybe I have gotten this all wrong. “That’s the other thing. He hasn’t shown up for work all weekend. He was scheduled for double shifts on Saturday and Sunday. He didn’t show up for either of them.”
“Ah, so that’s what this is really about.” Chloe smirks. “You’re pissed off because you had to pick up his slack.”
“I can’t say I’m overly happy about it. You know Marco, my boss, hasn’t even been trying to call him to find out where he is? He’ll come swanning back in when he’s ready and nothing will get said. If one of the other wait staff did that, we’d be out the door.”
“What makes you so sure he won’t be?”
“Well, when he is there, he does very little work. He tends to spend too long chatting with the customers, charming them. But he doesn’t do much in the way of actually waiting on them. Marco doesn’t say anything to him, but he lectures the rest of us about keeping up.”
“Maybe Marco has himself a little man crush.” Chloe laughs. “At least that would mean that Marco’s moved on from hitting on you.”
A shiver of revulsion goes through me as I remember being called to Marco’s office. His disgusting little hand on my knee. The things he said to me. “That’s true. I’d rather be in his bad books than in his might want to sleep with me books. But I still think it’s wrong how Matt shirks everything and we’re the ones taking the shit for it.”
Chloe laughs and shakes her head.
“What?” I demand.
“Isn’t it obvious?” she asks me.
I shake my head. I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“You’re not pissed off with Matt because he gets one over on Marco. You would totally celebrate that. You’
re pissed off because you want him and he hasn’t called you quickly enough for your liking.”
“That’s not true,” I say, too quickly. Oh God. Is it true? Am I that far gone that I’m projecting my feelings about Matt rejecting me onto something else?
“Whatever you need to tell yourself to get through the day Callie.” Chloe smirks knowingly.
Dammit. I knew I shouldn’t have let her draw me into this conversation. I should have just gone back to my dorm room like I’d planned to. Or listened to her go on about whatever it was. “Let’s pretend for a second that you’re right. And you’re not by the way. What the hell do I do? Matt’s made it pretty clear he doesn’t want to talk to me, and if he turns back up at work, I have to face him.”
“He might think you’re the one that made that clear. Picture the scene. He gets a call that his dear grandad has been taken to hospital. He can’t tell you because he’s afraid he won’t be able to get the words out without crying, and he doesn’t want you to see him crying. So he leaves, hoping you call him later. But you don’t. And so he thinks he’s pissed you off and it’s too late to explain. He now thinks you don’t want to talk to him. Awww… poor Matt. It’s all just a misunderstanding. If only he knew.” Chloe shakes her head sadly, speaking like a voice over in a soap opera recap.
I can’t help but laugh. She’s so dramatic. “Ok, nice story. But seriously, Chloe. What do I do?”
“Well, you have two choices. You confront him, or you let this whole cloud you have hanging over you go and avoid him like the plague.”
I think back to his first day on the job. I had managed to avoid him easily enough. I know I can do it again. The thing is, I don’t want to. But Chloe’s right. I can’t go on in this limbo, and I’m not about to march up to Matt and embarrass myself by demanding to know why he didn’t kiss me on Friday. What if he’s not married and he just realized it was a bad idea? I don’t think I could handle him laughing in my face and saying the tequila wore off.
“Avoid him it is then,” I state with a nod.
Chloe shakes her head. “A beer says it doesn’t happen.” She grins.
“You’re on.” I grin back.
Chapter Eight
Callie
It’s Thursday before Matt shows back up to work. Marco greets him like nothing has happened when he strolls back onto the restaurant floor.
My heart skips a beat as I look at him. I can’t help but think how close we were to kissing. How his lips felt in that half a second they brushed against mine. I remind myself I am over Matt and I am avoiding him. I turn away brusquely, glad to see a regular customer at one of my tables waving me down. I hurry over, keeping my back to Matt. When I finish taking the customer’s drink order, I can’t help but glance back in the direction I saw Matt and Marco standing as I made my way over to the table. They’re gone. I try to tell myself that’s a good thing, but the disappointment sits in my stomach like a rock, mocking my thoughts.
The restaurant isn’t hugely busy tonight, and we keep having quiet moments where we get a chance to chat for a few seconds. Usually in those moments, Matt and I stand together, making up scenarios for our customers, anything from scenes at their workplace to outlandish ideas about what goes on in their bedrooms. Today, that doesn’t happen. It soon becomes clear to me that Matt is avoiding me every bit as much as I am avoiding him.
It confirms my thoughts; he has rejected me. Whether that’s because he’s married or not, I still don’t know, but I tell myself it doesn’t matter. The last thing I need is a distraction at work, and workplace relationships have always been off limits for me. I’m not about to start changing my principals just because a hot guy almost threw me a bone on a night when he had nothing better to do.
I’m not going to confront him. Chloe was wrong about me. I can do this. I’ll just keep avoiding him. If anything, him avoiding me too, is making it easier to do that. Still though, I find my eyes moving to him every time he’s around and not looking in my direction. Every time I see him, I feel my heart skip a beat, my pussy gets wet at the thought of what I would like to do to him. I tell myself it’s just lust; nothing more. If I tell myself it enough, I might even start to believe it.
A loud party comes into the restaurant, pulling my attention away from Matt for a second. There’s four of them. All men, somewhere in their fifties. And they’ve clearly had a little bit too much to drink. My heart sinks when they choose to sit in my section. I hang back for a moment, looking for Macro. I spot him and gesture to him discreetly.
He comes over. “What?” he says rudely.
I resist the urge to tell him to go and fuck himself and nod towards the table. “Are you allowing them to eat here? They’re clearly drunk and kind of loud and they might disturb the other customers.” If I tell him I’m uncomfortable waiting on them, there’s no way in hell he won’t take the opportunity to make me miserable.
Marco looks around the restaurant, actually taking me seriously, but then he looks back at me and shrugs. “They’re regulars. And the other diners aren’t. It’ll be fine Callie. Just be nice to them. Or is that too much to ask?”
“Of course not,” I say, biting back my anger. “I just didn’t want to get the blame when they empty the place.”
They’re talking too loud already, cursing and laughing and I notice an elderly couple sitting at the next table give them a wary glance. I start to make my way over, ready to try and diffuse the situation. I approach the elderly couple. “Are you enjoying your meals?” I ask brightly.
They nod, neither of them really looking at me.
I lean in closer and lower my voice, “I can move you if you’d be more comfortable somewhere a little quieter,” I say.
“Thank you,” the woman says, finally looking up and meeting my eye. I can see the relief on her face. “It’s our anniversary and we just wanted a nice meal in peace.”
I nod my understanding and lead the couple to a different table, carrying their plates for them. I go back for the drinks. One of the men from the loud table whistles in my direction. I bristle and ignore him.
“Hey, waitress,” he shouts.
I turn around slowly, my face full of thunder. “I’ll be with you in a minute,” I say through gritted teeth. “And my name isn’t waitress.”
“Ooh, she’s feisty!” One of them laughs, getting a round of cheers from the table.
Fucking great.
I take the old couple their drinks, noting that at least they look more comfortable now. The rest of the diners in my section are a little younger themselves and they just ignore the loud table.
I make my way towards the table, already knowing how this is going to go and dreading it. “Are you ready to order?” I ask, putting on my more fake than usual smile. The one I keep for customers just like these.
“How about you to go?” one of them asks.
“How about we stick to the menu,” I say to another round of cheers.
They make a show of looking at the menu.
“Does the meatball special come with a side of hot waitress?” the same asshole asks.
“Nope. It comes with a side of garlic bread like it says right there,” I say.
“Shame,” he replies. “You look like the sort of girl who would appreciate a ride on a more experienced man.”
I feel sick at his words. As if I’d go there. I try to ignore the jibes, but I’m getting more and more uncomfortable by the second. I could just walk away, but I’ll only have to come back, and no doubt, Marco will get in my face about it. I can feel my face going red, the heat spreading down my neck. This doesn’t go unnoticed by the table.
“Aww she’s blushing. How cute.” He laughs.
“Look… do you want to order an actual meal off the actual menu or not?” I snap.
“Relax.” He smiles. “A girl doesn’t wear a tight little skirt like that unless she wants some attention.”
“It’s the staff uniform,” I point out, biting back my argument that actually I
can wear whatever the fuck I want to and not want his attention.
Before I know what’s happening, he reaches out and runs his hand up my thigh.
I slap it away, no longer caring if I piss him off. “Take your hand off me right now,” I snarl as I shove it away.
His demeanor changes instantly. Gone is the jovial laughter, the fake charm, replaced with a look of cold anger.
I feel nerves fluttering in my stomach. This is going to get ugly.
“Who the fuck do you think you are? Stuck up little cunt,” he snarls at me.
I take an involuntary step backwards, stunned at the venom in his words. I open my mouth although I have no idea what to even say to that. I am dangerously close to tears but I refuse to cry in front of the table of idiots. Before I can gather my composure, I hear Matt’s voice from behind me. “What did you just call her?” It’s level, low, but I can hear the anger simmering dangerously underneath the surface.
The man at the table snickers. “You heard me.”
“Yes. I did,” Matt says. “But what I can’t for the life of me work out is why you thought it was ok to put your hands on her in the first place, or why you think that kind of language is something we’ll tolerate.”
“She loves it.” He grins, not looking at Matt.
“Get the fuck out of here and don’t come back,” Matt says to the man.
He looks up, his eyes widening when he sees the intense look on Matt’s face.
The tears I was holding back have receded a little and I take a step forward, ready to intervene if things go wrong.
“I’m a paying customer,” the man says. “And I know the owner.”
“No you don’t. You know the manager,” Matt says.
He says it with such authority I don’t doubt his words, although I wonder how he knows for sure. He must have heard Marco telling me they’re good customers and to just get on with waiting on them.
“I won’t tell you again. Get out,” he adds.
