Filthy Boss

by Amy Brent

  She pulled on her underwear and her bra again, dressed herself in the stockings and the dress of her waitressing uniform. Then she put on some coffee—if these were cowboys they’d appreciate a cup more than most. “Thanks,” said Kellan, when she came out with the cups. “We’ll shovel you out when we leave.”

  But he couldn’t hide his reluctance to leave. At first Shandy thought that maybe they were hungry. “I can make you boys pancakes or waffles,” she offered.

  “Thanks, sweetie,” said Tucker. “But we’re just lazy—ain’t two ways about it. We shovel enough shit in our lives. Don’t need to shovel no snow, either.”

  “The highway is clear,” Truman called. He was standing on one of the tables. “All we gotta do is get the truck out.”

  Kellan snorted. “That snow drift is ten-feet high,” he drawled.

  “Well, your truck got a V8 engine,” said Tucker.

  “So is that it, then?” she asked, her voice cutting through their transportation concerns

  “Honey,” said Kellan. “I tried to warn you—”

  “I know you did,” she said. “I just—can’t you—maybe promise me that you’ll come back? I mean, I know you guys are gonna be in and out. I don’t mind that. I just need to know that you still want me—”

  “My dear, sweet little Shandy,” murmured Tucker as he took her in his arms. “We’ll always want you.”

  “I promise—I’ll keep myself for you three—”

  “No,” Tucker said. “You go and find yourself love, you hear? You go and find yourself that man that will love you the way we showed you and you marry him and make fat babies together. We’ll come back until you do, okay? Promise. But we ain’t the guys to give you the kind of love you deserve.”

  She found herself nodding along, crying for some reason. She didn’t know why—she knew they wouldn’t be staying. She knew, too, that they’d probably forget about her in a fortnight. That she wasn’t a virgin anymore, so how could she be special, still? What have I done? Tucker hugged her again. “How ‘bout we set a date?” he asked. “We can do it in your place—it’s close by, ain’t it? Maybe get some toys, and another girl in on the action?”

  “Can you—” she sputtered, “—are you—serious?”

  “Never know if something’s gonna rock your world ‘til you try it,” he said, smiling and winking at her. “And frankly, I think you’d like it.”

  She coughed, not knowing what she could say to that. She was imagining herself with a girl, now, eating her pussy and sucking on her tits. The idea frightened her a bit—and yet, she had to confess, the thought of being with another woman made her curious. What would it be like to have that kind of power over someone?

  She shook her head. That wasn’t important, not now. The important thing was that they were coming back. “I’m off on Thursdays,” she said. “My place is above the dry-cleaner’s. There’s a doorbell.”

  “Which—” he began and then he realized what he was saying. “Right, silly question.” There was only one dry-cleaner’s in a town as small as Vernon. “I’ll go help Kellan,” he said. “If you can write down the name of the place before we leave, I’ll be much obliged to you, miss.”

  “Shady. My name is Shandy,” she said. “Don’t tell me you forgot it already.”

  He grinned at her: You’ll never know.

  “See you in two weeks, then,” she said.

  Chapter 93

  Two weeks later the blizzard was a distant memory but the streets were still walled on either side by a mountain of snow. She was working—it was Wednesday—and Marvin, her sketchy oversexed boss, swore that he would make her pay for the food that the three had eaten while they were stuck there. It didn’t matter to him that they’d paid for it. “You can’t do that,” she said, fear rising in her voice when she realized how he wanted her to repay him. “That’s sexual harassment.”

  “It’s getting what I’m owed,” he said, his voice petulant and mean. “So either you do what I want, or it’s a whole week of me telling every single driver that you are the skankiest piece of ass on this side of the Mississippi.”

  Her shift was over; still no signs of the three. She put her panties back on, wondering how many people had divined what she wasn’t wearing. That was the deal, fulfilling Marvin’s wet dream of having a sweet piece of bare ass prancing about his diner. She felt like throwing up.

  She needed Tucker’s touch more than ever, but as the parking lot remained bare she began to cry in despair. She’d been bracing for this but now that it happened it surprised her how much it still hurt. They weren’t coming back for her. Maybe they were coming back on Thursday, she thought. Thursday was so far away—

  She managed to make the drive back to her apartment without getting into any major accidents. “Hey, everything all right?” asked Mr. Rye, the old man who owned the dry cleaners. He was locking up.

  She nodded, glum. “Well, chin up, girl,” said Mr. Rye. “It can only get better.”

  No, she thought. It all goes downhill from here.

  It wasn’t until she was on the walkway to her apartment when she noticed the familiar-looking pickup in the lot, and she wasn’t surprised when a blond woman wearing a corset, stockings, and not much else opened her door for her, saying, “Welcome home, Shandy.”

  My Christmas Gift

  Chapter 94

  Monsters, giant cats and vampires spin around me as I rush from table to table during the last hour of my day shift at Kennedy’s, the newest and therefore busiest restaurant in an already fast paced city.

  I bump into an evil fairy and groan. I’ve already had to wipe fake blood off of my white apron before it stained, and still I look like I had an accident with a kitchen knife.

  “Don’t bother.” Charlie, bartender and my favorite coworker, says as I reach for a napkin on the bar counter. “It’s Halloween, a bit of fake blood isn’t going to hurt.”

  “A bit of fake blood is going to stain.” I argue and thank him as he dips the end of a napkin in a glass of water. “And you know David would take a new apron out of my paycheck. Cheap ass.” I mutter and finish wiping it off. Charlie fixes his long dark ponytail and shakes his head.

  I continue my rounds like a robot, laughing politely when appropriate and focusing only on my assigned tables. It’s one of those lucky nights where my shift ends before any of my tables are finished eating, and I’ll be able to pass them over to my best friend and least favorite coworker Camila when she clocks in.

  “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.

  Chapter 95

  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 kick 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.

  Chapter 96

  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.