“Misty’s got kids,” he sniffs.
Shit. Again with the kids? Can’t a single girl get a break? A single girl with really cool boots?
“Come on, Nick,” I groan, taking a step backward and relishing the heavy sound of my boot heel against the ceramic tile floor. I pout and puff up my chest, noting the way his eyes dart down into my cleavage.
He’s always checking me out when he thinks that I’m not looking. I noticed. Of course I noticed. I’ve even considered letting him slobber all on me the way that Tiffany says that he does when he manages to trap her in the deep-freeze. I mean, I don’t think I’m quite that desperate yet. But it’s good to know it’s out there, assuming I would ever really want to have to freeze my ass off and let him smell my hair or whatever his kink is.
Not the worst thing to have done to you in a restaurant, is what I’m saying. There are all kinds of characters. And while I am usually up for sexy shenanigans of most sorts, Nick is… not my type. But could I make an exception for posh footwear? I could.
He twists his lips to the side, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he tries to squint his way past the barrier of my waitress uniform. These are the old-fashioned type that zip up the front. They’re very cleavage-friendly, almost “sexy nurse” in their own way. Like Halloween costumes, but I have to wear it almost every day.
“Yeah,” he says with an air of finality, as though he doesn’t want to say it again. “You’re on the schedule tomorrow anyway. Go ahead and clock out.”
“Nick, that’s not fair!” I blurt out, unable to control myself. “It’s not my turn. I’m sure it’s not my turn. Can’t you just pick somebody else?”
I feel the guys at the counter all go silent, swiveling on their counter stools to watch. The meaty parts of Nick’s seriously large ears go red, and I know that he can sense we are being watched too.
“You know what your problem is, Bunny?” he growls, the threat clear in his voice. “You don’t know when to shut up. You don’t know when you got it good.”
I cross my arms and just stare back at him, figuring I might as well go for it now. If I’m going to be in trouble, what’s a little more?
“Oh, is that my problem?”
He licks his teeth under his upper lip, inflating his mouth.
“Yeah, among other things,” he continues. “A girl like you should be glad you got any job at all. Now go ahead and clock out.”
“Well, you want to know what your problem is, Nick?” I challenge, raising my eyebrows at him. I feel everybody’s eyes on me for sure now, and it just sort of inspires me. What can I say?
He narrows his eyes, pausing for two beats.
“Just clock out, Bunny,” he says in an unnervingly polite way. I hear that he’s actually talking some sense, but somehow I can’t make myself listen.
“Your problem,” I continue, building up even more steam, “is that you are nasty. Nasty food! Nasty attitude! You’re worse than the cockroaches in the kitchen!”
Rocking back, he almost looks like he’s floating, like I just disturbed the surface of the water that he’s in or something. His eyes are wide and frantic, clearly shocked that I would talk to him like that.
“Clock out!” he bellows. “And don’t come back! You’re out of here, Bunny! I’ve had enough of your smart mouth!”
“And I have had enough of your shitty coffee, Nick!” I yell right back at him. I glance over at the old guys and see them nodding in agreement. See? They know. It really is shitty coffee. They’re on my side; I can feel it.
“Out of here!” he says again.
“Fine!” I yell right back, stabbing at the button of the time clock to punch out. Part of me knows this is a huge mistake. I should apologize. He’s kind of right about my big mouth, and I know it. But I can’t do it now. I’m just riding the wave.
“And you gotta return that uniform!” he blurts out.
I glance down at the uniform, somehow surprised at this new information. Return it? But, I kinda love it. I feel like a sort of vintage vixen in this thing. I do not want to return it.
“Yeah… well... you gotta shave the inside of your ears, Nick!”
There is some kind of sound behind me, a sort of choking noise that means I have got people laughing at him. While that feels exceptionally good, I also know that means that my opportunities for a future apology have just dwindled significantly.
“Get out!”
“I am getting out!”
I make sure to give everybody a little smile on the way out, trying to make sure that they’re on my side, at least for now. I know as soon as the door closes behind me, their allegiance is going to shift, but for now I need this. I need to know that just for a second, I’m the hero of the story, even if I’m the jerk that started it.