The Real Deal

by Lexi Aurora

  Zach blinked at the waitress, closed his eyes briefly, then blinked again. He heard Matty utter a few choice curse words under his breath and still he had a hard time wrapping his brain around what he was looking at. Before he opened his mouth, he already knew whatever he said would make him sound like an asshole all over again.

  “Do you mind telling us who you are? Because you aren’t our server.”

  “Betty?” the new girl said shrilly, “Me? You’re damn straight I’m not. My name’s Melanie, boys, and I’ll be taking care of things from here.”

  When Zach heard the sound of the bell jingling over the front door, his head instinctively swiveled in that direction. His eyes lighted, arriving there just in time to see Betty hurrying out the door.

  Chapter Three

  Betty Ingrid

  IF THERE WAS ONE THING Betty was used to, it was the way people moved in and out of a life. When she thought about it, life that was, it was with the image of a pond, a fallen pebble causing ripples in the water. The tightest rings, the ones right around the place where the stone had disturbed a smooth surface in the first place, were the people closest to you. It might be family if you were lucky enough to have a good one, or maybe your friends. The next couple of rings represented close acquaintances, people you saw every day or close to it. The further out the rings got the more transient the people they represented became. Most of the people in a person's life fell somewhere into those categories. The majority of the people in Betty's small universe resided there, too. The number that existed inside of the smallest circles was almost negligible. She had no friends in her classes, mostly because she had exactly zero free time to make any, and only one close friend at work. The rest of the people in her life were on the periphery of things, and she had come to a place in her life where she was okay with it. More than that, even, she liked it that way. Not being close to people, not having anyone who needed anyone, made it easier to get things done. She would think about them from time to time, the people who filtered in and out of the diner, that was true. She wondered about what kind of lives they lived when they weren't sitting at one of her tables; whether they led happy lives or something more sinister. She wondered about them and then she went about her business. That was the way her world worked.

  The fact that she couldn't get Zach Jameson out of her head was significantly more annoying to her for the fact that she was usually so good at keeping a level head. She knew she was still young, but she had really believed that she had things figured out well enough not to let life in unless she wanted to. She was super picky about who she dated, and it had been a long time since she had had anyone inside of her head without making a conscious choice to let him in. Zach was definitely not the kind of guy she would have chosen to let in. He had money, fame, all of the things that went along with those things, and she wanted nothing to do with it. He was one of those people, one of those lucky people, who had that magical kind of life where worry wasn't a real thing. He was so far from what she was looking for that it wasn't funny, and she had been more than glad to give up his table to Melanie when she'd jokingly suggested it. That made it so much worse she couldn't stop thinking about him no matter how hard she tried.

  Not that he was doing anything to make things easier on her. He seemed, in fact, to have the precise opposite plan in mind. It had been almost two weeks since the first time he had come into The Bellevue and Zach had been back around at least a half a dozen times. Each time he came, it was with his friend, Matty, and each time he requested that she be the one who serve them. That right there had been enough to get rid of any good will her giving the table to Melanie had gained her, and fast. Melanie had assumed that since she'd been the one to actually serve the business mogul, and received a staggering tip to show for it, she would be the one he'd want if and when he came back in. When that hadn't proven true, Melanie's hatred for Betty had come back with interest, and she was currently on a mission to make Betty's life as miserable as humanly possible. Betty was lucky she had always been such a good employee because Melanie, Kim, and the rest of her friends at the diner would gladly have her fired and not lose any sleep. And speaking of the devil, Betty looked up and found Kim right in her face.

  “Hey, bitch,” she said with the kind of casual indifference reserved for those who cared very little for almost everything.

  “Hi, Kim. What is it? What do you want?”

  “Oh, please,” she went on sarcastically, “it’s not about what I want. It’s about what the customer wants, silly. And there’s one here looking to see you. Well, two actually, but we both know it’s really just one of them that counts.”

  Betty turned to the counter as Kim called her a bitch again underneath her breath and walked away. There was Zach, sitting at the counter as if he had never left. Matty was sitting next to him just like he had done each of the other times, but Betty hardly even saw him. What she saw was Zach Jameson. Whether she wanted to or not, it was hard not to see him. She was desperate to ignore it, but each time he had come in he seemed more attractive to her than the last. He hadn't ever treated her the way he had the first time again, and although she reminded herself over and over again that the prick she'd first been introduced to was still inside of him, the memory of that brief encounter was wearing off fast. What she found in its place was somebody who was charming, funny, and seriously smart. He was exactly the kind of man she'd decided a long time ago didn't really exist. It was what she wanted to go right on believing except that he wouldn't stop showing up and proving her wrong. It had gotten to the point where she sort of hoped he would come in and felt something a whole lot like disappointment on the days when he didn't show. He was a little too easy to like for comfort, case in point the smiling face he wore now as she walked towards him. God, he looked like a freaking Disney Prince. What exactly was a girl supposed to do with that?

  “Hey there, sunshine, don’t look so happy to see me,” he said with a voice full of laughter.

  “I was just wondering if the two of you had decided to move in or something. Maybe you’re helping pay the rent for this place?”

  “Woah there, sister,” Matt said with mock horror, “don’t look at me. If anyone is going to be paying anything for anything, it’s my buddy right here.”

  "Thanks for the vote of confidence, brother." This time Zach did laugh, and Betty noticed the dimples that accompanied the sound. She averted her eyes quickly, but not quickly enough. A feeling of heat spread from the top of her head and down through the rest of her body. It made her shiver all over, and goosebumps broke out on her flesh. She willed herself not to blush and then wondered how well her attempt at Jedi mind-tricking herself was working.

  “Honestly, Mr. Jameson, what is it that keeps you coming back here so frequently these days? There are so many lovely restaurants in the city. I’m sure you’ve been to just about all of them.”

  "True, but they're all lacking something. Something I can only get here." Betty glanced at Zach and saw that he wasn't laughing now. There was something in his eyes now, some kind of intensity, that only made the feeling of heat grow stronger. She was appaled by her girlish blushing and took a deep breath in an attempt to steady herself. She set two glasses of water down on the counter, reminding herself that there was nothing different about serving these guys than serving anyone else, and promptly knocked one of them right over.

  “Oh! I’m so sorry! I’m going to get a rag, okay? I’ll be right back to clean that all up.”

  She’d been waiting tables for long enough to be woefully good at her job and in all of that time she had never spilled anything on anybody. The fact that the first time had to be with an incredibly hot billionaire was just her luck. She tried not to care but what she felt like doing was bursting into tears. She was so flustered she was grateful for the brief moment of alone time offered to her by her trip to the supplies closet to retrieve something to clean up her mess.

  “Hey, Betty?”

  She whirled around so
quickly that she stumbled over a mop bucket left casually on the floor a few steps behind the door. She would have fallen over, probably breaking her ankle or some other body part essential to waiting tables, if two strong arms hadn't shot out and caught her firm. There were no windows in the tiny closet, and it was half dark, but she could clearly see his green eyes looking at her in the dark. They weren't just looking at her, either. They were roaming over her, taking their time as they took in every inch of her. Never in her life had Betty been looked at that way and the force of it rendered her borderline immobile. She was at work, work for the love of God, and still, she couldn't make herself shrug him off and get back to it.

  “What are you doing?” she managed to say, hardly above a whisper.

  “I don’t know,” he answered hoarsely, “what do you think I’m doing? What does it look like?”

  “I don’t have the faintest idea. I need to mop up the spill, Zach. I can’t be in here like this. You can’t be in here either. Customers aren’t allowed back here. It’s a violation.”

  “Of what? The manager’s rule? Pretty sure the president didn’t come up with that one.”

  “The manager, the health department. Both of them. You really aren’t supposed to be in here, or behind the counter at all. You’ll get me in trouble.”

  "How about this? If a healthcare rep comes storming in, I'll pay your fine. Does that sound okay? Does that sound like a plan?" He smiled at her and leaned in more closely. He was so close now she could almost taste his breath, and suddenly she became angry.

  “That’s funny to you, right? The idea of someone coming in and fining me?”

  "No, come on, I didn't mean that."

  “But it is. It’s funny because you don’t have any idea what it would be like to lose a job. How could you? You own the company you work for. Nobody’s going to come in and do anything to you unless you want them to.” She tried to push him away, twisting her body to free herself. He was a whole lot stronger than she was though and he kept his grip on her easily.

  “Hey. Hey, come on, I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “I’m sure you didn’t.”

  “Listen to me,” he said fiercely, his voice hoarse, “I’m not messing with you. It was a joke, truly, but I can see that it was a bad one. I know you think I’m kind of an asshole.”

  "No, I never said that." She shook her head, but he stopped her, his hands moving from her waist to cup the sides of her face. She tried to remember how she had come to be so tangled up with him and couldn't quite do it. Everything felt blurry, like it was moving way too fast for her to catch up.

  "You didn't, that's true, which is a testament to your self-control. You have every right to think I'm a dick. We both know that. All I want is a chance to show you that you're wrong."

  "You've already shown me. You've been a perfect gentleman every time you've come in since the first one. If that's what you're looking for, you've got it. You don't have to keep coming in and talking to me, and you don't have to do whatever it is you're trying to do now."

  "You want me to go back to my seat, right?" He kept right on like he hadn't heard what she’d said.

  “I do, yes. That would be fantastic. Were you planning on doing it anytime soon?” she asked, totally exasperated at this point.

  "Absolutely. I just need you to do one thing for me first." Still those eyes boring into her and now her heart was beating so loud she just knew he could hear it too. It was the soundtrack to whatever was happening between the two of them now.

  “Okay, yes! Fine, just tell me what you want. Tell me and then go back to your seat, alright?”

  "Definitely. I promise. All I need is for you to agree to go out with me."

  “Are you kidding?! Are you trying to coerce a date out of me right now? I’m at work!”

  “I’d prefer to think of it as seizing an opportunity. ‘Coerce’ isn’t a great word.”

  “Could we maybe talk about this some other time? Like, a time when I’m not in a supply closet would be good.”

  "I'd like to agree, but you're a little too hard to pin down. You've already proven that you're a flight risk, so I think I'm going to have to take my opportunities where I can find them. My sincerest apologies." The little twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth told Betty that sorry was just about the last thing Zach was, and she felt another hot surge of annoyance at how brazen he was being. That, and another wave of heat, delicious and absolutely exhilarating to boot.

  “What do you want from me, Zach? What do you really want?”

  “Just what I said. All I need is a yes, Betty. Just say you’ll give me one date and I’ll go sit down. I’ll be a good boy.”

  “Okay, yes! Are you happy? I’ll go on your stupid date. Does that make you happy?”

  Instead of answering her, he dipped down low and kissed her. His hands, cupping her face again, pulled her in closer to him so that she could smell his expensive cologne. It smelled like cedar and made her think of being somewhere far away from here. She could taste him, too, and regardless of what her mind was telling her about how much trouble this could get her into, her body only screamed out for more. She should never have agreed to going on a date with him, and she most definitely shouldn't be kissing him in the supply closet, but she couldn't stop herself. The spark between the two of them was too much for her to fight against, which made giving in the only option left. Then, just as quickly as he had forged the contact with her, he broke it off.

  “Now,” he said in a low, husky voice, “back to my seat, just like I said.”

  He turned and walked quickly back to the counter, ignoring the look of question Matty gave him while he climbed onto his stool. Betty stood and watched, feeling very much like she was watching a character in a movie instead of living her own life. It was only in movies that rich, crazy good-looking men swept you off of your feet in a utility closet. Things like that weren’t supposed to happen to people like her. She wasn’t one of those lucky, chosen few. So then why was it, exactly, she had just agreed to Zach’s insane proposition?

  “Stupid,” she muttered to herself, “this is stupid. It’s time for me to work, for God’s sake. This is not an episode of a CW show.”

  She nodded to herself, feeling a fraction better at the reasonable tone of her own voice. She smoothed down the server's apron tied around her waist, did the same thing to her hair, and stepped out of the closet. She turned back briefly to retrieve the rag she'd come for in the first place, having almost forgotten it in the Zach-induced haze. The next thing she knew, she was running straight into Gerald's barrel-shaped, middle-aged paunch.

  “Oh goodness! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there. I was just–”

  “You don’t need to explain it to me, Betty.” His voice, which was almost always friendly when directed at her, had a cold, almost shrill edge Betty didn’t like at all. She liked the view of Melanie and Kim snickering behind Gerald even less.

  “I know I spilled something. I didn't mean to. I’m about to clean it up, Gerald. I just needed a clean rag. I figured I could give the rest of the counter a thorough wipe down while I’m at it.”

  “No, no, I don’t think so. I don’t think that’s going to be necessary.”

  "What do you mean?" she asked the question cautiously, but part of her knew there was really no need. The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach told her everything she really needed to know.

  "I have to say, Betty," he went on in the grim voice only managers of restaurants could pull off, "I never thought I would be having this conversation with you. I've had it plenty of times, but I never thought I would be having it with you. I've gotta say, and this is me speaking the truth here, real talk, I'm beyond disappointed. I mean just beyond.”

  “It wasn’t my intention to–”

  "That part doesn't matter, does it? Your intentions or lack thereof don't amount to a hill of beans at this point. We're past excuses."

  “Please, I’ve never even gotten a write
-up. You know that.”

  “Again, doesn’t matter. Letting a customer into the closet that way? That is an infraction that isn’t going to be tolerated here. Now, add on top of that the fact that you were, um, making out with the man? Now we’ve got a real, serious problem. This is exactly the kind of thing management has been trying to crack down on. You know that, Betty! I had hoped that you were on your way to joining our team. Now I can see that my hope and faith were misguided.”

  "I promise you it won't happen again," Betty whispered. She hated how pitiful it made her sound, but a whisper was all she could manage. She was too mortified, too angry, to pull off anything else. Instead of softening in response, Gerald's face grew colder, more set. He hitched his fingers through his belt loops and hoisted up the chino pants that were just a little too big for him. Then he gave a nod, more to himself than to her or anyone else.

  "You are right about that, Miss Ingrid. You won't. You may not be management material, but you're still going to do this place some good. You're going to be the lesson to the rest of them. Commit a major infraction like this, and you're out."

  “Are you...are you saying I’m fired?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. This is clearly not the place for you. I’ll have Kim take over your tables. You are, from here on out, permanently relieved of your position.”

  Betty stared at Gerald, mouth agape. Her grandmother used to force her mouth shut with one gnarled hand anytime she did that, telling her that if she weren't careful she would catch something with that wide mouth she wouldn't be prepared to swallow. It was a less than charming thing to say to a little girl, which is what she had been, but it was a witticism that had stuck. She could hear the old woman, now dead, repeating it to her over and over now and yet she couldn't make herself take the advice and shut her mouth. She couldn't believe this was happening, literally couldn't make herself believe. She tried to speak, and nothing came out but an alarming croaking sound that didn't sound like her at all. She cleared her throat, then forced herself to try again.