She shook her head. “Nothing. Been distracted. That’s all.”
“No surprise there. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes,” Clarissa said. “Piero Ricci hits on every waitress every time he comes here. Good thing Sergio came to your rescue, huh?”
“Yeah. Let’s talk later. The restaurant’s getting busy.”
Speaking of shoes, Jessie remembered the ones Piero Ricci wore. Was the stain on his ugly wingtips blood? Something else? As usual, Jessie’s imagination often got the better of her. She needed to focus on getting through the night.
As she returned to Piero’s table with their orders, she noticed he avoided talking to her the entire time. Good. That was one asshole off her back. He didn’t apologize when he knocked over his glass of Chardonnay across the table, but she could feel his beady stare on her.
She grabbed a washcloth from the kitchen, biting her lip the entire time. Saying nothing would be the best course of action, although it was tempting to tell him off. Ask him what the big deal was.
Sergio, she noticed, had joined Mr. Rossi and two other men at a private table in the back of the restaurant. She should really stop thinking about the man. For one, Sergio was way out of her league. Why would a man like Sergio, so confident and put-together, would want anything to do with a plain and damaged waitress like her?
“I’m taking my five-minute break,” she told Tony, the manager.
He gave her a nod. Jessie went out back, to the alleyway behind the busy kitchen. When the restaurant got too overcrowded, sometimes it was a little hard to breathe in there.
Jessie traced the barely noticeable white scar on her left wrist. Very few people got to know the real her. To the rest of the staff, Jessie was well-liked, nothing special. Invisible. Sergio was different. He saw her. One time, she nearly dropped her tray, but he caught it and circled his hand over her wrist at the same time. The one with the scar.
He didn’t ask about it, but his eyes narrowed. It was such a forgettable, unremarkable moment for most people, but at that moment, Jessie had felt exposed. Vulnerable. Like a prey animal waiting to be shot down by a hunter. Some irrational part of her almost thought he’d report her to Tony, or worse, Mr. Rossi, and she’d lose her job. Then she realized it didn’t matter. She was a great waitress and never forgot a single order. The customers liked her enough to leave her big tips. That was all that mattered. Still, that encounter had unsettled her, even now.
Don’t forget he’s dangerous, whispered a voice in her head. If Jessie’s mother were still alive, she’d warn her to stay away from Sergio. Men like Sergio took and took, and never gave back. Just like her dad. Jessie took out the cigarette from her pocket and fingered it. She quit smoking three months ago, went cold turkey, but the urge to light the stick occasionally rose.
“I thought you quit?”
Jessie knew that voice.
Spotting Sergio standing by the kitchen doorway, she told herself to act normal. Too bad she could never relax around him. Sometimes, he looked at her like a hungry wolf. That would’ve scared most women off, but not her. Jessie often wondered what it would be like to be devoured by him completely. Body, heart, and soul. Her heart raced a little faster as he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her. She focused on his words.
“How do you know that?” she asked, a little annoyed when he plucked the cigarette stick from her fingers.
Sergio took out his silver lighter, the one with the snarling face of some horrendous beast carved into the body. He lit the stick and inhaled. Then exhaled. She envied him, hated him a little right there and then.
“When it comes to you, Jessie, I know more than I should,” he eventually answered.
Jessie hadn’t imagined the lingering looks he sometimes gave her then. She didn’t mind. She had felt invisible her entire life. Like another specter in a city of ghosts. Jessie had been born and raised inOakheartCity. She’d probably die here, too. Just another name on the city’s records. Unremarkable. Easily forgotten.
“Why?” she had to ask.
Sergio never paid any attention to the other waitresses. In fact, in the six months she worked at Mama Rossi’s, she’d never seen him speak to another woman. Only Mr. Rossi’s men or their special guests. Sergio was all work and no play—or so she thought, anyway. What did she truly know about Sergio Castello? Practically nothing. They were complete strangers to each other. Jessie was just sick in the head to imagine there was more between them. A spark. Potential.
“You don’t want to know the answer to that question. Not yet,” he answered.
“What if you’re wrong?”
He flashed her an almost frightening smile that showed off the white of his teeth. “You’re not for me, Jessie, no matter how much I want you.”
Had she imagined his confession?
Sergio finished his smoke. He crushed it under the heel of his shoes. Despite the impeccable dark-gray suit he wore that fitted him like a second skin, Sergio didn’t wear fancy shoes. His were practical work boots, almost like he didn’t want to get his feet wet or dirty.
Jessie had a fascination with shoes. Her mother killed herself by looping several shoelaces together and hanging herself. Jessie had found a small mountain of shoes under her body.
Sergio had called her a good girl a few hours ago. She really wished she was. Jessie wanted to maintain that illusion for him because he seemed to think she was something special. She’d hold on to that feeling a little while longer to sustain her. To keep her going.
“Jessie, break’s over,” Tony yelled. “Get back in here. We have a full house.”
“Thanks for saving me earlier, from Piero,” she told Sergio. “I better head back. Can’t afford to lose this job.”
She meant for those last words to be a joke, but he didn’t laugh, much less smile at her.
“Men like Piero aren’t the monsters you should be watching out for,” he said. He opened the door for her. The kitchen bustled with activity as the chef yelled out instructions to his assistants. The glare of the kitchens almost seemed too much. Jessie preferred the dark quiet of the alleyway. She took a deep breath and murmured another thanks.