Sara placed the dirty plates into the buss tray even though she wanted to let them drop from a substantial height. One so high, all the dishes already there would break. A sound of vicious shattering would be very cathartic at this particular moment.
This was the last thing she needed. It had been a hell of a day already and an uptight, the-world-bows-to-me type of lady as one of her customers could be the straw that broke the camel's back.
Sara bent down to pick up a used cloth napkin that had fallen from one of her plates and felt a pain shoot up her lower back. Forget the camel, that straw was going to break her back.
She needed a day off, her back was telling her. She needed some time to relax, read a book, have an unrushed cup of coffee. Hell, an extra hour or two of sleep would be like heaven at this point. But rest? Relaxation? Those things were not in the cards for her. She had too many responsibilities. Too many things that needed her attention and her money to let a silly thing like ever-increasing back pain put her out of service.
It had been two years since she left the states. Two years of working her ass off in this upscale, low-respect restaurant. Two years of sending every spare penny she could scrape together to her father's retirement home. Two years of fearing that he'd find her. If she could just get ahead of things, put a little back, things would get better. "People strive to make it for decades. I've only been at this for a couple of years. I can make it," she always told herself. But it hadn't been only a couple of years, had it? It had been more than that, but those years before her move to London were firmly placed in the "Do not open" part of her memory.
The chef yelled that her food was ready. And there was her cue to stop feeling sorry for herself. She picked up the plates of delicately dressed greens and headed towards the doors that led into the dining area. She allowed herself a moment to take a deep breath, though. She was going back to the Queen of Existence's table and a little fortitude was needed.
Straightening her aching spine and remembering to "glide like you're on a cloud" as her waitress trainer always told her, she swept out of the kitchen. At her customers' table, she gave a careful, "Excuse me," as she set down their salads. The Queen of all Existence was primped and styled, polished and perfect in her tight black dress and red lipstick, but it was the man across from her that was getting all the attention. It didn't matter that he was wearing only a v-neck white t-shirt and a simple, but fitted, black jacket. He was who he was.
"Tom, I really think it could be a good move for your career," the "Queen" said, barely recognizing that Sara had appeared.
He glanced up at Sara before responding to his dining partner. "Thank you, love. It looks delicious."
Sara smiled and nodded at him. How could she not? The man's voice was velvet. "Is there anything else I can get you?"
"Where is the damn wine I ordered?" the "Queen" asked. Her glare almost made Sara wither right there.
"I'm so sorry. Our sommelier should have brought that to you already. I'll check on that immediately." Sara already knew how that conversation would go. It would be like pulling teeth to get the sommelier, Chaze, to serve her table. He was dating Cher, another waitress at the Dapper One. Sara was not Cher's favorite person. An American coming into her restaurant? Making her managers happier? Getting all the good tables? Ever since Sara had stepped foot into this restaurant, her arch nemesis had used every tool at her disposal to sabotage Sara.
"It's fine, dear. It's a busy night, obviously." Tom gestured to the rest of the diners. The place was packed as always. Spear-headed by one of London's most talented chefs, how could it not be?
The "Queen" tsked. "That doesn't mean we can't get something as simple as our wine order." She turned to Sara and spoke in a horrible American accent, "Kin we geet our whine, pah-leese?"
Sara took a deep breath. Again. She clasped her hands in front of her and responded politely. "Of course, ma'am. I'll see to it right now." She smiled. She nodded. Poor Tom, his brow furrowing, seemed to lift his hand as if to lay it gently on her clasped ones, but Sara turned abruptly before he could.
Chaze was, as Sara predicted, an asshole about the whole thing. But in the end, the wine was sent out.
When, at last, the "Queen" and Tom were done, Sara swept over their table quickly. She laid down the check, gathered their plates and napkins, and set off relieved to the kitchen. They were the last of her tables to leave which meant her shift was over. She dropped off the dirty plates in the kitchen and went back to help the buss boy clear the table. Her head was down, contemplating whether or not she'd get a tip from this table or not. She needed a good tip. It might put her funds into an area where she could start saving. Because of that contemplation, her shoulder smacked hard into someone.
She stumbled back, apologies automatically falling from her lips. "I'm so sorry," she looked up to determine whether she should finish that sentence with a sir or a ma'am.
Beautiful blue eyes stared back at her. A slight smile, a strong jaw, high cheekbones. Her stomach wobbled even though she didn't want it to. Definitely a sir.
"Don't apologize. It was my fault. I wasn't watching where I was going. But I'm glad we bumped into each other." He laughed at his own pun. An honest laugh that she couldn't help but return.
"Yes, um… Sorry." The smile didn't leave her face as she moved around him toward the table.
In her head, she let herself dive into those glorious blue eyes for a second or two. She was pretty sure the look that man had just given her would be cemented in her memory for a long, long time to come. If it ever left. But she didn't have long to fantasize about it.
"I just wanted to say –" His voice was so close to her ear she jumped, the cups and glasses in her hands clinking against each other. "Oh dear." His hands went to hers, steadying them so the things she held didn't crash to the floor. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."
Sara took a couple of deep breaths. The deep breathing thing was becoming a habit when it came to being around this man. She clutched the glasses more securely to her chest, but he didn't take his hands away from hers.
"It's fine. I'm fine." She looked up expected a worried frown or a look of disdain considering he just had to keep a waitress from making a spectacle of herself, but that's not what she saw. It was a genuine smile, an honest one much like his laugh, that she saw.
She tucked that image away, too, so she could dive into it later.