Tuesday evening had me behind a bar, manicure intact. I had on the cutest black and white uniform, serving drinks as a cocktail waitress. So far, I had only spilled drinks on two customers. All in all, not that bad of a start for me. I grabbed three more drink orders and headed onto the floor. I was determined not to mess this job up.
I glided across the floor, gracefully carrying the tray this time. Yay me! I was finally getting the hang of it.
“Hey, baby. Have a little something for me?” a voice asked, his silky tone purred with suggestion.
I ignored him and kept walking. If there was one thing I was use to, it was being hit on.
“Hey, I’m talking to you,” he said loudly.
I looked over at him, smiling as brightly as I could. “I’ll be right back, sir.”
“You better,” he said as I passed him. He reached out and swatted me hard across the butt.
Now I may look like a piece of eye candy, but just because I do, doesn’t mean my body is free property. I twirled around so fast; the shock in his eyes barely had time to disappear as I moved closer to him. “What was that?” I asked, practically growling.
He collected himself, fluffing up his feathers once more. “It was a preview, babe. I wanted you to have a taste of what’s to come.”
“I don’t think so,” I hissed at him.
“Oh, I do think so.” He threw some money on my tray. “As long as I’m paying, you’re going to keep supplying those drinks, and…you’re going to keep them wiggling my way,” he said with a grin as his eyes roamed over my body. “After all, I’m not only paying for the booze.”
I could feel my chest tighten as anger took over my body. How dare he treat me like this. I was only doing a job; I wasn’t here to be treated like a whore.
“Oh, baby, don’t get mad. Just get me another drink,” he cooed through his smarmy smile. “And be more appreciative when you get back.”
I couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. Did women really let this guy talk to them like that? I started to see red as the anger turned into pure rage. Who did this guy think he was?
One of the drinks on my tray started to shake. It vibrated with violent intensity, the ice cubes clanking harshly against each other.
The guy’s eyes moved from my body to the tray, curiosity in them. “What’s going on there?”
No sooner were the words passed his lips, the drink shot up off the tray and splashed him in the face. “What the…,” he hissed as he tried to wipe the booze out of his eyes.
I stared at him in amazement. That was exactly what I had wanted to do to him, but I hadn’t moved a finger. What had caused that?
“You did that to me,” the man fumed, rising from his chair, what was left of the unmelted ice raining down at his feet. “How did you do that?”
I took a step back as he moved closer. How could he possibly think I had done that? He saw the same thing I had. I never even moved. “No,” I said, backing up again. “That wasn’t me.”
“You little bitch,” he spoke softly, moving forward. “I’ll teach you to play tricks on me.”
I turned as fast as I could, wanting to flee as far as I could from this man. I ran straight into someone as I did, my tray of remaining drinks crashing into them, turning their clothes into a soggy mess.
I looked up into the frowning face of my manager. He stood there, glaring at me, his shoes squishing as the liquid poured off him.
“I’m sorry,” I said as I tried to fix the mess I found myself in.
He held up a hand to stop me and frowned even more if that was possible. “Maxie…” he said through clenched teeth.
I let out a sigh. Yeah, yeah. I knew what that meant. Bye, bye job #2.
Bell, Book, and Sandals Page 11
