Filthy Boss

by Amy Brent

  “Remy, no costume?” Scott Picton, my regular, comments when I get him and his friends their beer. “You could throw those curves in anything and make some extra money on the side.” Scott runs a hand across his much too small chin and raises an eyebrow.

  “You’re disgusting.” I look him in the eye and gesture at the table full of guys in tattered clothing and cheap makeup. “And zombies are overrated, sweetie.”

  They take their turn ordering, throwing a few casual remarks about Scott’s disastrous flirting.

  “Number eight, no mustard.” Scott says and asks me what I’m doing after my shift.

  “Nothing with you.” I respond sweetly. His friends make a commotion as I take their menus.

  “One of those days I’ll get that sweet caramel skin in my bed sheets.” Scott says.

  “Bet it tastes like burnt sugar, huh?” Another one of the guys makes a grab for my hips and I sway from his touch. I saunter back to put their order in.

  “Don’t know how you do it.” Charlie says as he gets a platter ready of cocktails and shots. “Every day these assholes eat you up with their eyes. Even after watching you reject all of them they just keep coming back for more.”

  “College ain’t going to pay for itself, Charlie.” I take the platter on one hand and deliver it to my next table full of even more drunk guys competing for my attention. Half the time their eyes are concentrated on my breasts and the deep cleavage my tight satin shirt reveals, and the rest of the time I catch them fixated on my behind as I walk away.

  A year and two months ago, when I first changed into my uniform for the first time, I had been conscious of it being too tight and constricting these bigger curves, not too mention taming my corkscrew curls that I’ve wasted thousands of dollars of product learning how to manage. Amazingly, throwing my hair into a bun on the top of my head and wearing tight clothes got me not only unwanted attention, but some very wanted cash tips.

  The last hour of my shift flies by and I introduce my tables to Camila. They’re notably disappointed when her tiny frame and thick spanish accent offers to refill their drinks, but as the clock on the wall behind the bar chimes in a new hour I only care about the tip she’ll end up splitting with me.

  My apron comes off and I grab my purse, waving goodbye and leaving before someone inevitably calls my name. Camila had asked about my Halloween plans and why I’m in such a hurry to leave and as Scott made a fuss about his burger I managed to slip away unnoticed. I couldn’t tell her I had plans, she would call me out on that lie in an instant, but I didn’t feel like telling her the truth. Tonight is the first night I’ve had off in a month, and I have a hot date waiting for me in my tiny studio apartment. Boxed wine, pajamas, and the newest release of my favorite romance novelist.

  I walk up the busy road that Kennedy’s is on, ignoring cat calls and avoiding running into groups of costumed characters migrating to their next party. I’m across the street from the subway station when my phone rings.

  I consider waiting until I’m home to even look at it, but my dad has been overseas for business for a while and I haven’t talked to him in over a week. I step into a quieter alleyway and unlock my phone, groaning when my boss’s name flickers across the screen.

  “David.” I answer. “If Scott complained about Camila tell him I have a life and can’t be there to please him twenty four seven.”

  “What? No, Remy, Scott just left. I need you to come back for a double though.” There’s shouting in the background and David yells at the kitchen to be quiet.

  “A double? I just worked an 8 to 7, some people might consider that a double.” I argue.

  “I just got off the phone with one of the Kennedy’s. They’re in town for the next few weeks scoping out a new building. You’re the best front of house we got, I need you here until close today while I clean the office.”

  The light to cross the street turns green, and I shuffle on my feet and envision myself lounging on the couch in pajamas with the boxed wine at my feet. But then the bills on the nearby dining table come into focus and I remember how much tuition for the semester I still owe and turn back down the street towards Kennedy’s.

  “Pay and a half?” I ask.

  “Pay and a half.” David confirms.

  We hang up and I drag myself back to work, cursing these spoiled ass rich owners and praying we never cross paths.

  Camila warned me the entitled drunks are feeling even more bold tonight behind masks, but I didn’t believe her until dealing with it myself. She keeps my tables as I’m the evening’s Host, but I help out where I can in between greeting customers. They’re loud and obnoxious as they whistle for my attention and ask how naughty I’ve been lately, but I brush their remarks off with ease.

  The next hours pass by smoothly with twenty and thirty percent tips left for all of the waitresses. Charlie kicks men out when they’re too raunchy with us and our other coworker Sophie, and we all take turns passing candy out between us and the cooks.

  Charlie closes up the bar and leaves, already complaining about having to come in earlier than usual the next day. The late night crowd eases up until we have only two tables still eating, and the cooks all begin to clean their stations.

  “Ay, Scott left you another gift.” Camila says as we wait near the entrance. “Are you going to give this one away tambien? Sophie already has like three necklaces and I only have two, just saying.”

  “You two can fight for it. Hell, Mike might even want it this time.” I scowl when David comes out to say he’s done for the night. “Ass ruined my night off, and now he’s leaving before me.”

  “Well, now that he’s gone, want a drink?” Camila asks. I offer to get them myself and scoot behind the bar. The tequila is top shelf, and as I stretch on my tip toes an arm wraps around my waist. My balance is knocked off and I fall backwards, popping my elbow out to hit the body behind me.

  “Come on sweetheart, don’t be shy.” A middle aged man says, his mouth close to my ear.

  “Knock off the sweet talk.” I turn, intending to push him off of me. But the man is already thrown off of me and in the grasp of another who twists his arm behind his back. A young man closer to my age holds the old guy in front of him and whispers closely in his ear. The man pales at what he hears and hurries off.

  All smiles now, the younger man turns to me and asks a question. He’s dressed in a fine white suit with a white stripe down short blonde hair, and gentle green eyes with a line of blue around his pupil. He frowns, and extends an arm as his mouth continues to move. Black ink peeps out from his sleeves, and I see a half of the yin and yang symbol before I realize he’s been asking if I was hurt for at least a minute now.

  “Maybe she hit her head.” We both turn to the other voice and I have to blink to realize that it’s another young man sitting at the bar, dressed this time in an all black suit with a black streak going through his faded blonde hair.

  “Don’t be rude Jake.” The first one says and stands next to his friend. Only when they’re together do I realize that they’re twins, and more specifically yin and yang twins.

  “Rude twins.” I say aloud as the dark one glares at me.

  “While Emmet’s been trying to make sure you’re not traumatized, I’ve been sitting here trying to get a damn drink.” He says and looks around the bar. “What’s the point of this expensive mahogany bar if there’s no fucking bartender behind it.”

  “The bar is closed, sir.” I say loudly and step away from both of them. “Kitchen is closing up soon too, we close at midnight because we don’t employ slave workers here.” I add when black suit complains about the lack of servers.

  “Maybe we should come back tomorrow then.” White suit, I suppose Emmet, raises an eyebrow and gives me an odd smile. It’s late and I’m tired of all the flirting, so I just nod and head back to Camila.

  “Chica, you see those hot brothers? They keep looking over here.” She says when I start to clean the host’s stand. “You didn’t kic
k them out did you?” She pouts as they pass us towards the exit.

  “We’re closing and I’m not going to babysit a pair of drunk brothers. That’s the last thing I want.” We close up the restaurant with the help of the cooks.

  “You know Scott’s gonna ask you how you like the new bracelet.” Camila says as she opens a long gift box and pulls out a sparkling diamond bracelet. “Muy linda!” She yells as I clip it on her wrist.

  “I’ll say you’re really loving it. Lord knows I’ve told him to stop giving me shit.” I reply.

  “Really girl, he’s not so bad looking. He’s in love with you and he’s rich, what more could you want?”

  “I couldn’t care less about that stuff, Camila.” I say. “I don’t care if someone’s rich or good looking. I don’t want that.”

  “Then what do you want?” She asks and holds up her blingy wrist. “What more could you want?”

  “I’ve told you already. I’m waiting for love. I’ve waited this long I can wait longer. It’s going to be special, with someone special.”

  “Ah, si, I forgot you’re all about that Cinderella shit. Scott can literally be your prince charming.”

  “Scott can’t even look me in the eyes. It’s always tits this, ass that. My prince charming is going to look in my eyes when he talks to me. That’s the least he can do.”

  “Keep waiting then.” Camila shrugs. “God knows you’ll probably get less tips when you finally get a ring on that finger.”

  “I’m sure.” We finish up closing and take the subway together. She gets off before me, and I hold my pepper spray inside my purse as I wait for my stop.

  Camila thinks waiting for a fairy tale romance is useless, that the perfect guy doesn’t exist. But I’m not ready to give up on romance.

  I finally get back to my apartment at nearly two in the morning. After one glass of boxed wine I get ready to sleep for five hours before going to class and then work.

  I convince myself that waiting for true romance isn’t naive or dumb and that it’ll happen. I repeat it to myself until I fall asleep.

  I walk back into work as the lunch rush starts and tend to my tables. I didn’t have time to wash my hair this morning, so my bun is frizzy and my eyes are no doubt wrinkled with shadows. Camila flaunts her bracelet as she walks by me, and I laugh and roll my eyes. At least Scott’s money is being spent on someone.

  Charlie’s cleaning the bar when I ask him how his Halloween night was.

  “Hookers and blow.” He jokes. “Nah, just passed out candy to the neighborhood kids. You?”

  “It was fine, the cooks left all their candy in a bowl on the front after you left, so that was nice.” I tell him about the freak twins.

  “Like the Shining?” He asks and I shake my head.

  “No, they were actual twins. Dressed up as yin and yang or something.”

  David barks at us to get back to work, and I make my rounds again. I gather up the entrees for my biggest table on a platter and hold it far above my head as I head towards them. A commotion at the other side of the restaurant gets my attention, and I turn to find David sweating profusely in front of the same twin brothers as last night.

  “Oh no.” I moan, thinking they’ve asked to complain to the manager about me. I take the long way to my table to eavesdrop on the conversation.

  “Mike,” David’s talking to the newest waiter of the restaurant. “These are the co-owners of Kennedy’s, they’re here to oversee the wait staff and cooks and find a few people to transfer to their second location.” He gestures to the twins and I lose my balance.

  The silver platter falls to the floor, spraying food on the shoes of everyone nearby and shattering delicate plates into tiny shards. My hands shake and I attempt to pick the platter up but it slips out of my sweaty hands.

  “Are you okay?” Charlie and Mike both kneel and help me, but I turn my face to hide the heat rising up my cheeks.

  “Remy!” David screams behind me. I wipe my hands on my apron and stand on weak legs. “Jesus, go take a fifteen and get your head on straight!”

  I take the opportunity to escape and run to the kitchens without even a glance towards the twins. Miguel, the head cook, asks if I’m okay and I nod and exit the back door. Tears well up in my eyes and I press the back of my palm to them, trying desperately not to cry.

  They have every reason to fire me after being so rude to them last night, and now this? I sit on the ledge of a small garden connected to the building and drop my head in my hands. There aren’t many other places that will pay me as much as Kennedy’s does, and the tips themselves have practically been paying my rent.

  The door besides me opens and closes, and I stiffen.

  “You’re not cut are you?” A kind voice asks, one similar to last night.

  “Who gives a shit? Let’s just get her apron and get back to the hotel.” The other voice says. I peek through my arms to find the twins facing me. Emmet’s frowning at his twin, dressed in a well fitting gray suit. Jake scowls in my direction, his foot tapping as he discusses how much food I must have wasted. His gray suit is looser than Emmet’s, with sleeves rolled up to show off muscled arms with tattoos spiraling onto his biceps. His hair is slicked back on the top with shaved sides, and they both aren’t sporting the white stripe anymore.

  “Damn it, Jake, she could have hurt herself.” Emmet says and approaches me. “Are you alright?”

  “All you ever do is ask her if she’s okay, and she’s clearly never going to respond to you. This is a waste of time.” Jake complains.

  “I’m fine.” I say to Emmet. I can’t lose this job, I just can’t, and if I have to suck up to them then so be it. “And I’m so sorry about last night and just now. That’s not at all reflective on my work ethics and if, if you could give me another chance I promise I can prove it.” I’m not proud of it, but I widen my eyes and batter my eyelashes at the nicer twin. Jake must notice because he snickers and mutters something rude beneath his breath.

  “I’m not partial to considering it.” Emmet smiles and takes a seat next to me, crinkling his expensive business suit in the process. “But I’m not the one you need to convince.” He whispers to me and gestures to Jake.

  “Please, Mr. Kennedy.” I beg him. “I need this job, and I’m good at it. You can ask anyone in there, I’m the best front of house, and the customers love me. If you’ve ever worked for anything in your life, you’ll understand how important this is.”

  He stares at me until I begin to blush under such a heavy gaze. My eyes flicker to his forearms and how his shirt hugs his muscles, and then I’m noticing the sharp angle of his jaw and how thick his eyelashes are. I’m a big girl myself, but he’s wide and long and it doesn’t take long before I’m fantasizing about those arms as they hold me up against a wall and his taut body pressing against mine.

  “Fine.” He snaps me out of my daydream. Why on earth did that image cross my mind? “I’ll consider it. Come to the suite tomorrow and we’ll look over your employment. No promises though.” Emmet stands and whispers to Jake, who sighs in frustration. “Well I’m going back. All this bullshit is wearing me out.” He leaves Emmet and I alone as he mutters his regret for ever coming back to this damned city.

  “He’s an angry guy.” Emmet offers. “I’m much more agreeable.”

  “So you say.” I mutter, still feeling flustered. “I really am sorry about last night.”

  “You’re sorry you didn’t know who we were at the time.” He corrects me and I blush. “It’s okay, it seemed like you had a lot to deal with. Perverts and all.”

  I laugh, pressing my hands against my cheeks to stop blushing. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

  “I’m sure.” He’s staring into my eyes, and I find myself comparing them to his brothers. They’re similar, but there’s something gentle about Emmet. Something that makes my heart beat faster and skin sweat.

  “Fifteen minutes up.” I break eye contact and stand awkwardly, cursing myself for giving an
entitled and rich man any more attention than required. Emmet hands me a small business card with the name of their hotel and suite number.

  “Nine am tomorrow. I’ll make sure you’re not missed at the restaurant.” He says and calls his driver. I rush inside the restaurant before he leaves and take back my tables from Mike.

  I have less than twenty four hours to come up with a convincing argument to keep my job. How am I expected to beg in front of two insufferably attractive brothers who have probably never had to ask for anything in their life? Especially when just being near them is enough to make my heart race. I try to focus on my tables for the rest of the day, but every now and then I can’t stop from blushing at the thought of seeing Emmet and Jake again. Even if they make me unreasonably angry at the same time.

  Before I realize it my shift is over, and I spend the last half hour cleaning my table. Camila helps me as she finishes hers, and we go over the events of the day.

  “Oh, I wish I was there!” She says after I fill her in on the twin fiasco. “Apparently they ran after you and everything. I wish I had sexy twins following me everywhere I go.” She flips her long dark bangs and shakes her head. “Dios mio.”

  “Trust me, it’s not that glamorous when you’re covered in food.” We finish up and clock out at the same time. “But I think Emmet, the nice one, might give me another chance. His asshole brother is my main problem.”

  “I wish he was my problem. I know a few different ways to solve a guy like that.” She teases.

  “You’re filthy. It’s not like that.” She teases me throughout our subway ride, asking which brother is nicer on the eyes and which one has the cutest ass. Thankfully, her stop comes quickly and we say goodnight.

  I’m exhausted, but I don’t dare get ready for sleep yet. I pull out an old, dusty laptop and look up the Kennedy brothers, clicking on their bio page for my first stop.

  Emmet’s accomplishments fill up the majority of the page, from prom king in high school to valedictorian to being the youngest restaurant owner in the United States. Pictures of him and his mother are scattered through the article. She’s petite with wispy blonde hair, but her smile is almost as wide as her face as she stares at her son with pride. I scroll through an album of various European trips. The pictures turn into Emmet in fancy business suits at state dinners with mayors and congressman, and only now am I realizing just how rich and entitled he really is.