“Hello, table for one?” the hostess asks.
“Um, yes please.”
The young girl glances down at the bagged food in my hand. “I'm sorry. We don't allow outside food in the restaurant.”
“Oh, this? This is just my lunch for work today. I'm here for breakfast.”
She eyes me, then nods for me to follow her. “Just place it on the seat beside you if you don't mind.”
“Yeah, no problem.”
“Your waiter is Vinny, he'll be with you—”
“Um,” I say, cutting her off. “Is there any chance I can get Anna?”
“I'm sorry, our tables are designated for a specific staff for their shift. I can't reassign her.”
“Sure, I totally understand that. I don't want to be difficult, but is there any chance I can sit in her section instead?”
I'm annoying her. I can see it in her stance and how she rolls her eyes. “Sure, right this way.”
I get up and follow her to a different table across the room. She hands me a menu and I thank her. As she walks away, she looks back at me over her shoulder with a look that could kill. Too bad the customer is always right.
Anna comes out from the kitchen with a giant platter resting on her shoulder. She doesn't notice me at first. She's occupied with another table, nodding and asking if they need anything else.
As she turns around, our eyes connect. I smile and wave. She stands still as a statue. Her shock quickly wears off, and she walks to the table with a light smile.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asks.
“Getting breakfast,” I answer. “I heard this place was good.”
She places her hands on her hips and tilts her head. “I don't believe you.”
“You don't?” Arching a brow, I can't hold back my grin.
“No, I don't.”
“Well, you're right. But I brought you breakfast.” I lift up the white paper bag and dangle it in the air.
“You did?” she asks. I nod. “What is it?” she takes the bag from my hands and peeks inside.
“It's the best breakfast sandwich you can buy on the east coast.”
“I doubt that, but it does smell good.”
“It's my favorite.”
“Thank you,” she says. Her eyes dance around mine, almost floating in the sockets.
Another waitress walks by us, her hands full of dirty dishes. The door to the kitchen flings open, smacking her, and causing her to drop the entire tray on the floor. They clank to the ground and she gasps in horror.
“What the hell, Meadow!” a short, balding man yells. “You need to watch where you're going. You're supposed to go in the entry door not the damn exit.”
“But, Mr. Scaramuchi, I was going—”
“Don't,” he snaps, holding up his hand. “Now, stop embarrassing me in front of the guests and pick up this mess.”
She doesn't give him any lip. The girl drops to her knees, carefully picking up broken glass, and placing it on the tray.
“Who's that?” I ask.
“The owner,” Anna says with a drop in her tone.
He stands in the center of the room, looking around. His little, beady, hawk eyes scan his employees as if he's just waiting for one of them to screw up. He stops on Anna and clears his throat.
“I'll take a coffee for now. I just need a few more minutes to decide on what I want.” I say louder than normal so he doesn't think she isn't doing her job.
“Absolutely, let me go grab that for you.” Anna gives me a thank you smile. She tucks the bag against her side, hiding it from her boss. He doesn't seem notice and appears satisfied to see her working. His eyes land on another employee, and he flies into action. The man storms to his side and starts to berate him about how he's doing a terrible job washing the table.
What a dick.
Anna comes back with a mug and a small pot of fresh, steaming coffee. She pours me a full cup, watching her boss from the corner of her eye.
“He's a bit of a hard-ass, huh?”
“He's all right, I guess. So long as you're doing your job.”
“Do you like this?”
“Like what?”
“Waitressing?”
“It's fine.” She stands up straight and holds the pot of coffee. “I mean, it's a job, so that's all that matters.”
“I guess.” Fixing my coffee, I stir in the cream. “I hate my job and I don't plan on staying there any longer than I need to.”
“Yeah, I get that.” She wipes her hand on the small, black apron around her waist. Her boss's eyes flash back to her. “Are you ready to order?” she asks quickly.
“Yeah, I'll have the chicken and waffles.”
“All right, I'll go put that in for you.”
She works her way around the room before heading into the kitchen. I watch her as she smiles at the guests and laughs at their jokes. Anna really does know how to make someone feel comfortable. She might hate this job, but the customers love her. If people do come back here, I bet it's only to see her.