On most nights, Sam loved working at Topline. But on weekends, this place could turn into a madhouse. It was a two-story restaurant right in the middle of downtown Columbia. It had a dark aesthetic with exposed brick and pipes, and instead of the standard light fixtures, it was filled with twinkling rows of what Sam referred to as fairy lights, and twisted vines running up the walls and across the ceiling. It was an absolutely magical building and there was at least one proposal made there every week. Sometimes, during a slow moment, Sam stared at the walls, trying to figure out where one vine ended and the next began.
The only negative to working there was the grouchy manager, Mr. Brimley. He was constantly wiping the sweat off his face and cursing under his breath. More than anything, he desperately needed to up his anxiety meds. He had been known to
fly off the handle for any little thing that may upset a guest. Thankfully, she had not yet been on the receiving end of one of those tantrums.
But she had a small feeling that might change very soon.
Sam started to sweat as the kiosk became a blur of food and drinks and cocktails, and scanned every single page looking for something that looked similar to what that man had just ordered. She scanned over the drink menu to her side, but nothing popped out at her.
Negisa, Nimoni, something. Ugh.
She tried to remember exactly what they were called, but she wasn’t a big drinker herself so she never really learned the names for the fancier cocktails.
Relief flooded through her when the bar door finally swung open from the back.
“Took you long enough, Je–” Her excitement was cut short when she promptly realized this person didn’t have long wavy brown hair, but instead a mop of jet black locks that barely grazed the collar of his shirt. Nope, definitely not Jess.
But definitely new. One of the new hires for sure. She hadn’t seen him before and, being as it was sink or swim night for the new crowd, she would put money on the fact that he was a blundering new crew member.
After far too many failed attempts at silently begging him to look her way, hoping that he would know what it was she was trying to ring up, the frustration got the better of her. She waved her hand a few times in the air, hoping to catch his attention but, as before, it didn't work.
One thing Mr. Brimley had instilled from day one on the job was that employees were to be seen and not heard. Most of Topline’s customers were old school, upper class business men and their wives (or mistresses) who wanted to be waited on without having to listen to the lowly waiters and waitresses speak amongst themselves. So, Sam tried one more time to catch his eye as she waved across the wooden bar set between them to no avail. There was no way she was going to try to squeeze her way through the many patrons sitting at the bar, so she was stuck over at the side, waving her arm, and trying not to look ridiculous.
Fuck it.
“Hey, excuse me, could you come over here?” It was more of
a whisper-yell, causing one of the patrons at the bar to look up, but Newbie didn’t turn her way. He paused for a mere second when Sam let out a grunt of annoyance, but continued on with his task.
It wasn’t even nine o’clock, it had been a hell of a shift, she was already on edge, and she had an exam in advanced organic chemistry the next week, so the last thing she needed was some newbie asshole making her night more stressful than it already was.
“Hey! Excuse me!” she tried once more, a little more loudly than she’d intended. This time he paused, and she swore she heard a chuckle come from his direction. She knew she could see the hint of a smirk in between the dim lights that littered the glass backdrop behind him.
It was like he was hell bent on ignoring her, which was starting to seriously piss her off.
“Listen, I need your help with these drinks!” she yelled even louder this time. Loud enough that a few more guests popped their heads up in annoyance. She didn’t care, though, as he finally stood up and turned in her direction.
Their eyes met for the first time.
Unkempt would be a kind term for what he looked like. Nothing like the usual people Mr. Brimley typically hired.
They stared at each other for a second, Sam’s eyes pleading for assistance, but also not so slyly taking in the way his hair fell just so across his eyes, the straight line of his jaw, the stubble that peppered his chin, the way his broad shoulders seemed to fit perfectly within the black button up shirt he wore, the twisted tattoo that snaked down his muscled arm, and the way his shirt met his black pants.
But there was also something oddly familiar in the way he looked. She knew his face, and yet she didn’t. Sam tried to pinpoint if she had ever seen him before, but it was unlikely. He obviously wasn’t in her cohort and she didn’t remember him being one of the post-juvenile lock up kids getting their community service hours at the pet shop.
But he was definitely familiar. And easy to look at. Especially with the sultry way he was now staring her down. She gulped before reality kicked in and she remembered this newbie was an ass that she definitely wanted absolutely nothing to do with.
He laughed at her embarrassment in being caught as he turned around and started organizing glasses. Her shock at his clear dismissal was written all over her face. Not really thinking through the consequences of her actions, she stalked to the back kitchen and then burst through the bar door.
The names of the drinks had long been forgotten, but she wasn’t about to let Newbie-Asshole think he’d gotten the better of her. He wasnotgoing to ignore her and laugh at her and think he was better than her. Not tonight.
The foul words itched to be hurled at him as she slammed the door open and then promptly froze as all manner of noises—Crash! Shatter! Bang!—echoed through the building. Everyone stopped. Even the music seemed to pause, trying to take in what had just happened.
She’d definitely hit him.
With a feeling of nausea mixed with regret, she peeked around the corner.
Newbie-Asshole looked up at her with an expression reserved only for the vilest of creatures. To say he was pissed would be an understatement. He was crouched on the floor with a box of shattered glass sitting in his lap and three broken liquor bottles still rolling around on the floor. He slung his arms toward the ground, trying to shake off some of the shards of glass and liquor that had now soaked through his very tightly fitted shirt.