Tales of a New York Waitress (The Sibby Chronicles Book 1)

by Samantha Garman

  I bit my lip and looked away. He was right. I was still recovering from Matt’s burn.

  “I’m not going to do what Matt did to you,” he said as if he could read my thoughts.

  “What? You mean use me as a beard?”

  He didn’t laugh. “I mean, I’m not ever going to give you a reason not to trust me. When I say something, I mean it.”

  “So the love thing. That was real?”

  “That was real.”

  “You meant it?”

  “I did. I do.”

  I sighed. “I love you, too.”

  He grinned. “Good.”

  “I don’t have shit figured out,” I said.

  “Me neither.”

  “I quit Antonio’s. I’m unemployed.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “Our best friends are moving in together.”

  “I—what?” He looked shocked.

  “Caleb hasn’t told you yet? Oops.”

  “Well, good for them. I was getting sick of Caleb’s dirty socks. Now it can be Annie’s problem.”

  I grinned. “It’s amazing what women will put up with for a good…spoon.”

  I woke up the next morning feeling fairly optimistic, despite the fact that I had no idea what I was going to do about the messes in my life. I needed a really big mop. Aidan was in bed next to me and I was glad. I chose to focus on that. I kissed him awake and he smiled at me with a sleepy grin.

  “Wanna spoon?” I asked.

  “Spoon spoon, or, ya know, spork.”

  “You think you’re so clever,” I said.

  “Not as clever as you.”

  “I don’t spork without brushing my teeth first,” I said, trying to get out of bed.

  “You think too much.” Aidan reached for me and made me forget all about brushing my teeth.

  After, we got up and made coffee. I rummaged through the refrigerator intent on making breakfast while Aidan got on his phone. A few minutes later he said, “Uhm, Sibby.”

  “Yeah, hun?” I asked, my head stuck in the fridge.

  “You might want to get on Facebook.”

  “Why?” I set the bacon and eggs on the counter.

  “Where’s your computer?”

  “On the coffee table.”

  Aidan got up and went to get my laptop. He came back into the kitchen, the laptop open to my Facebook page. I scrolled through my newsfeed, seeing the same video over and over. I hit play on one and turned up the sound.

  “What is this?” I asked, but as soon as the words left my mouth, it all became clear. The video was of me pegging Matt in the face with a cork in the courtyard of Antonio’s and spraying champagne everywhere. “Oh, no.”

  “Shit, that cork really nailed Matt. This is awesome,” Aidan said.

  I continued to stare in horrified silence even after the video went dark. Aidan clicked the YouTube link. “Holy shit. Thirty thousand people have already seen it. Look at the comments! Sibby! You’re a viral sensation!”

  Aidan called in reinforcements and Caleb and Annie arrived within the hour. They’d seen the video and Annie said, “You both saw it in person. It’s not fair.”

  “I was drunk, if it makes you feel any better,” Aidan said. “So I don’t remember a lot.”

  “That does make me feel better, thank you.” Annie looked at me. “Have you gotten on Facebook recently?”

  I shook my head. Annie bit her lip, looking like she was in debate over what to say. Caleb took her hand and squeezed it. “Might as well tell her.”

  “Last I checked, that video had over one hundred thousand views.”

  “Fuck,” I moaned.

  Aidan piped up. “Do we know if you permanently blinded Matt? Does he have to wear an eye patch the rest of his life?”

  “He could totally do gay pirate porn,” Caleb said.

  I glared at him and Annie laughed. “I think I now owe him that coffee sit down,” I said, rubbing my third eye.

  “Just stay off Facebook,” Annie said. “And tell Matt to stay off Facebook, too. Though I’m sure he already knows better.”

  “Well, I guess the one good thing is that my parents are completely unaware of this situation.”

  “Sib?” Aidan asked.

  “Yeah?”

  “Your parents are calling you.” He held out my phone to me.

  I took it and sighed. “They’re going to have to change it from Murphy’s Law to Sibby’s Law.” Shaking my head, I pressed the answer button. “Hey, parental units. No…what video?”

  “This is awkward,” I said.

  “Very,” Matt agreed.

  We were both wearing very large sunglasses. Me to hide my face, since it was currently all over Facebook and I was in New York City after all, and Matt because he was wearing an eye patch over an eye that was apparently healing quite nicely.

  “I’m really sorry about the cork.”

  “I kind of think it’s karma,” he admitted with a wry smile.

  I chuckled nervously.

  “I’m sorry, too, Sibby. I didn’t mean to hurt you. It just got all so…and I didn’t know how to tell you and…anyway, I’m sorry.”

  I nodded and took a sip of coffee to cover the unexpected emotion in my throat. I never thought I’d need to hear those words, but I did.

  “Are you happy?” he asked me.

  I thought for a moment. Was I happy? I was unemployed and my life was in chaos, but I had Aidan and good friends, and I was okay. I was going to be okay.

  “Yeah, I am. Are you?”

  He nodded.

  “Taylor seems like he really cares about you,” I pressed.

  He smiled shyly. “I care about him, too. So, we’re okay?”

  “Yeah, we are.”

  We parted ways and I was lighter than I could’ve possibly imagined. It felt good to be finished with that chapter of my life. Matt and I might never be friends, but if we ran into each other on the street, we wouldn’t have to do that awkward thing of pretending we didn’t know each other. Besides, if Matt hadn’t royally screwed me over, I never would’ve partied with Annie that night on the Upper East Side, and meeting Aidan might have turned out very different if I’d met him at the restaurant.

  Everything for a reason and all that.

  I finally got up the nerve to call Nat. “I’m a shit,” I said in way of apology.

  “Yeah, you are,” she agreed. “But I forgive you.”

  “Because we’re really friends outside of the restaurant?”

  “That, and because your mess is way bigger than my mess.”

  Perspective. I loved that in a friend.

  I joined Aidan on the Upper East Side in an Irish pub for drinks.

  “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I recognize you in your civilian clothes,” Aidan teased, kissing me on the cheek.

  “I’m not sure I recognize you without the stench of restaurant all over you,” I joked back.

  “This is nice,” he said, “Isn’t it?”

  I grinned. “Better than nice.”

  “Pool table is free,” he said. “You up for a game? It is how all this started.”

  “You romantic you. Guard the table, I’ll get us another round.” I headed to the bar and waited for the bartender to come to me.

  “Oh my God,” a girl next to me said.

  I glanced at the girl. “What? Is there something in my teeth? Not again…”

  “You’re the waitress in that video!”

  “Yea…wait, no, that wasn’t me.”

  “Really?” She almost fell off her stool. “You look just like her. I watched that video, like, a hundred times.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “I swear you look just like her,” she said, pulling out her phone. A moment later, she was shoving her phone in front of my face and I was forced to watch myself and pretend that I found it hilarious, when mostly I just found it embarrassing.

  She stuffed her phone back into her pocket. “Hey, Jason! Doesn’t this chick look like
that waitress in the video we saw?”

  Jason was beefy and his chin disappeared into his neck—like a face cankle. A fankle. He stood next to Drunken Girl and looked me over. “Yeah, you do. God, that girl is really funny. I wonder if she blinded that guy.”

  My grin tightened.

  “Sibby, what’s taking so long?” Aidan called out, coming towards me.

  Fankle and Drunken Girl’s mouths dropped open. “And you’re the guy,” Drunken Girl breathed.

  “What guy?” Aidan demanded.

  “The guy who professed his love to the waitress—from the video.”

  I dropped my head into my hands.

  “Can I get your autograph?” Drunken Girl asked me.

  I blinked. “Uh, sure.” I reached for a bar napkin and the absent bartender finally arrived. “May I borrow a pen please?” I asked him. He handed it over and I scribbled on the napkin.

  I passed Aidan the pen and napkin. “Give them your autograph or we’ll never get to play pool.”

  Chapter 23

  Guanciale [gwan-chal-ay]

  1. Pork cheek.

  2. Chewy and weird. Kinda creepy.

  “You wanna watch some late night TV?” Aidan asked.

  I threw my keys onto the coffee table and shrugged out of my layers. “Sure.” I headed to the bedroom, wanting to get into comfortable clothes. After the drunks had asked for our autographs, we’d played a game of pool, but my heart hadn’t been in it.

  Aidan flipped on the TV and I heard the voice of New York’s most prominent late night talk show host through the clapping of the audience. When the audience died down, the host introduced his guest, but I wasn’t paying attention as I was looking for my favorite threadbare t-shirt and leggings.

  “Sibby? You might want to come out here.”

  “In a sec!”

  “Now!” he called back.

  Grumbling and halfway dressed, I came into the living room and saw who was on screen.

  It was the famous actor I’d spilled wine on at Antonio’s.

  “So, I heard you had a bit of trouble on your last trip to New York,” the host said.

  The famous actor smiled. “News travels fast.”

  “Why don’t you tell them about what happened,” the host said, gesturing to the audience.

  “Well, I was in New York a few months ago and I ate at one of my favorite restaurants. It’s a great Italian place that makes its own fresh pasta.”

  “Oh no,” I murmured, my heart getting ready to burst out of my chest.

  “Shhhh!” Aidan said.

  “Our waitress was this really cute girl with big black glasses, right? The night was going pretty great, the food was excellent, my date was really into her kale,” he turned and smiled at the laughing audience, “and then our waitress spilled wine all over me. Ruined my favorite cashmere sweater.” The famous actor was grinning, and it showed his good humor.

  “So, stuff like that happens to you, too, huh? Even you’re not exempt?”

  “Guess not.” He shrugged. “She was as nice as can be about it and I can afford a new sweater.”

  “As it turns out,” the host said. “I know the restaurant you went to. And it seems this waitress has made it her mission to put on shows.”

  The lights on the stage dimmed and the big screen behind the host and the famous actor lit up. There I was—larger than life—opening a bottle of champagne on national television, the cork flying across the room and hitting Matt in the eye.

  “Let’s watch that part again—in slow motion,” the host said.

  The audience went crazy with laughter, but then calmed down.

  “I haven’t seen comedy like this since Lucille Ball,” the host said with a laugh. “We did some scouting and we found out her name.”

  “No,” I whispered. “No, no, no.”

  “Sibby Goldstein, if you’re watching, thanks for the laughs.”

  “I have thirty missed calls,” I stated the next morning.

  Aidan took my cell phone and crammed it between the couch cushions. “Don’t look at that.”

  “I have to.”

  “No, you don’t. Call Annie on my phone.”

  I took the couch cushion and put it over my head. “You’re not even trying to talk me out of how bad this is.”

  “Easier just to let you have your fit of drama. Very Lucille Ball of you.”

  “Shut up!” I’d had a hard time falling asleep, and when I finally did, all I saw were images in my mind of the famous actor and the host pointing at the video of me on the big screen and laughing.

  I threw the cushion away from my face and it hit the floor with a soft thud. “Two drunk people recognized me from the video in a dark bar in Manhattan, before it went on national television. What’s going to happen now?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Aidan’s phone started going crazy. We looked at each other. “It’s Jess,” he said. “Should I get it?”

  “Oooo-kay?”

  Aidan answered his phone and a moment later handed it to me. “Hello?”

  “You have to take your job back,” Jess said.

  “Good morning to you too.”

  “I don’t have time for greetings,” she said. “I’ve been at the restaurant fielding calls for hours. Everyone wants to eat here and be served by you. They all think you’re going to do something that’s going to make them part of the next viral video.”

  “People are insane.”

  “I’m well aware. So, will you come back?”

  “And be the comedic waitress? I don’t think so. Thanks for the offer, though.”

  “But—”

  “Jess, you know I like you, but I so can’t deal with this right now. I have to go, I’m sorry.” I hung up the phone and sat in silence.

  “Wanna go for a run?” Aidan asked.

  “Um, hello, I didn’t get this pale by being into sports.”

  He shrugged. “Want to go away together?”

  My eyes got really wide as I stared at him. “Seriously?”

  He nodded. “Why not? We don’t have jobs. I’ve got a bit of savings and it’s cold. Let’s go some place tropical.”

  “That doesn’t sound very responsible,” I said.

  “Come on, Sib, let’s go away. I’m sure there are last minute deals and stuff. Think about it. Tomorrow we can wake up, hear the ocean from our hotel room, and drink our breakfast.”

  “When you put it that way…”

  “We’ll go away and leave all this. It will at least get us away from people who might recognize you for a while.”

  “Sold.”

  “You look ridiculous,” Aidan said as we sat at our airport gate, waiting for our plane departure.

  I lowered the sunglasses minutely but refused to take off the big straw hat. “You’re the one wearing a Puka shell necklace and board shorts. We’re not in the Bahamas yet.”

  “Just trying to get us in the mood. You’re just trying to hide. No one will even know who you are.”

  “Doubtful. I’m not that lucky.” I sighed. I’d forwarded our flight itinerary and hotel info to my parents and Annie, just so a few people knew what was happening. Annie quickly replied, saying she was glad I was grabbing life by the balls. She was deep in nest mode and I worried that by the time I got back, she might have morphed into a Jersey housewife.

  Aidan leaned over to kiss me and grinned.

  “Why are you grinning?”

  “Because I can finally tell you why Julian was in such a good mood for so long. I’m no longer under obligation to keep it a secret.”

  “Finally, something good coming from us both being unemployed. Tell me.”

  “He auditioned to be on a new cooking show for reality TV and he made it.”

  “Julian is going to be a reality TV star?”

  “Yep.”

  “What cooking show is it?”

  “I don’t know what it’s called, but apparently it’s like Survivor meets Master Chef. He has to co
ok in the wild and camp. Use what’s available.”

  “Like grubs and stuff? Is he going to cook insects?”

  “Probably.”

  “Gross.” I shook my head. “What if he gets eaten by a bear?”

  “That would make for really good TV,” he pointed out.

  “We’re so watching that shit.”

  He laughed and stood up. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Where are you going?” I asked, but he didn’t reply. I watched him head to the airline counter and start conversing with the overworked, underpaid, middle-aged-gate agent. Within seconds, Aidan had the woman smiling and they both looked over at me. Had Aidan pulled out a white, fluffy kitten and give in it to the woman?

  Aidan came back, holding two new tickets and handed them over. I glanced at them and then at him. “First class?”

  He grinned smugly.

  “How?”

  “I told her that I was planning on proposing to you on our vacation and I wanted to start the trip off right.”

  If I’d been drinking something, I’d have spit it all over him. Instead, my mouth went dry and I felt light headed.

  “Sibby? Sibby, stay with me.” Aidan put his hand to the back of my neck, or tried to, but the straw hat got in the way. He flapped it off my head and got really close to me. He went in out and my vision. “Sibby, I was kidding. I just told her it was your birthday. Take a deep breath. That’s it. Good. Another one.”

  “Jesus, Aidan,” I said when I could finally draw air into my lungs.

  “Your reaction to my fake proposal is less than stellar, gotta say. I’m a little offended.”

  “I’m going through a lot right now.”

  “As always.”

  Four hours later, we were standing in a beautiful white lobby filled with fragrant flowers. I started to sneeze and my eyes began to water. “Crap, I forgot my allergy medicine.”

  Aidan sighed like he was tired, but with a grin, he pulled a small bottle out of his board shorts.

  “You make me want to sing you Usher songs,” I said, taking the bottle from him.

  “Pop one, then let’s go down to the beach,” he said. “We’ve only got a few more minutes of daylight. I want to catch the sunset.”