"You do it" it was whispered though gritted teeth.
The fat, balding Italian man was still waiting. His greasy person eyeing the harassed forms scurrying through the obstacles of tables and chairs beset with early diners.
The waitress he was seeking was well aware he required attention. Her friend too was avoiding Signor Brucco and his grabby hands. The column, which they were hid behind, would not be a sanctuary for long. Already the pastry chef was glaring at them from his hatch at their rear.
His muttering's earned him narrowed eyes and colourful expletives.
"For god sake! He's only one man – you can handle him."
"Oh no, you do it. He grabs my ass one more time and I'm gonna make him choke on his Gnocchi"
Signor Brucco was getting impatient. He was doing the finger snapping gesture that all service staff loathed.
The pastry chef gave up muttering and ordered the hiding waitresses to 'haul ass'.
Jasmine and Mary continued to argue between them. In the end, Mary gave her friend a shove and she was exposed. Signor Brucco spotted the pretty brunette immediately and leered.
Jasmine grimaced and slowly made her way to him. He watched her hesitant approach and licked his lips. This one was his favourite. She was the taller between the two friends and had an innate grace to her Mary's vibrant sometimes-clumsy charm. She was built like a ballerina and indeed resembled one today with her thick chestnut mane tied up into tight topknot. Her crisp white blouse accentuated the paleness of her skin and exaggerated the flush he mistook for reticence. Signor Brucco let his eyes travel down her body, ignoring the frilly white apron to appreciate the short black skirt barely covering her long legs. She was not wearing stockings and cheap flat shoes covered her feet. The Signor was sweating profusely by the time Jasmine was stood by him.
Half eaten plates of the best pasta dishes and softest, most fragrant breads were littered across the traditional red checked cloth of his tabletop.
"Signor Brucco, you need something?" she forced a smile
Overly confident of his charm, the Italian ran his grimy hand over the thinning black hair on his round head and exposed yellowing teeth.
"Piccolo mio, why you no come and sit with me?" he whined it in an awful thick accent
Jasmine's features were contorted in disgust. The letch couldn't just come, eat and then tip and leave like everyone else? He had to get his service charge worth of groping too?
"Urgh" she thought it and said it.
**********
Fenwick Vale was not as much of a rural, backward hick town as its name suggested.
Situated not far from Boston, the town benefited from an influx of city types who required country town serenity in their hectic lives.
The tranquillity of the Vale was assured. The town itself built in the deep ridge of a valley surrounded by rolling green hills. Generous woodland bordered the Vale and Fenwick River ran past the outer edges of town.
Main Street was wide and held a host of stores and cafes. Trees lined the pavements and flowering baskets were hung from the streetlamps. The crime rate was low and the amenities good. A lack of any serious nightlife being the only drawback to the town's youth.
The locals themselves were a fine mix of honest people who could do little but watch understatedly as cosmopolitan facades appeared into their otherwise idyllic town.
The slimy Signor Brucco was a regular from the city. He claimed the newly opened Italian eatery where Jasmine and Mary worked to be the only real taste of Italia left outside of Napoli. The girls knew the chef to be excellent but he was actually more Polish than Italian and had opened his business after a generous divorce settlement from his ex wife – a wealthly lawyer.
Both Jasmine and Mary were local. They had been friends since junior high and both had aspirations for a better life. So far, waiting tables was the means of earning a deposit on their very first apartment in the city. It was taking forever to do so but they had hope.
Mary tried to control her giggles as she watched her friend struggle with the octopus arms of their most hated customer. Her red curls bounced from the ponytail she had attempted to bind the unruly mass into. She could well be amused – she was safely out of groping reach, in fact Mary was the usual target. The Signor liked grabbing at her lush, curvy figure.
No one immediately noticed the car as it pulled up to the curb outside. It took a minute or two for the appearance of the low sleek vehicle to attract attention. It was black with tinted windows. Unusual for a town with a growing list of Mercedes, BMW and Audi drivers. This car looked decidedly sporty and over powered for Fenwick Vale.
Two men exited from the dark interior. They were garbed in expensive designer clothes and hid their eyes behind shaded glasses. Mary saw them halt outside the entrance and her mouth gaped.
Both men were tall and lithe. Both had long hair, one golden blonde and the other man, a more unusual pale ash – almost silver? Mary decided they must be models. Their hair was worn loose and looked way too soft and silky. Mr Silver, in his deep navy suit, was the older looking man, somewhere in his 40's, Mary decided. Mr Golden was in charcoal Hugo Boss and didn't look a day over 35. From the features she could distinguish, Mary thought they were more than handsome.
'Mmnnn…Brothers…?' the cheeky redhead thought secretly with a saucy smile.
They entered 'Rusticana' and searched the room with still shaded eyes. Mary made sure she was the first to reach them.
"Hi there, can I help you?" her green eyes flirted under thick lashes
Mr Gold removed his sunglasses and looked at Mary. He had piercing blue eyes and an imperious air to him. Involuntarily, Mary found herself shivering as she looked into his icy gaze.
"We are here to join a friend." Mr Silver intervened is a soft, deep voice.
He was slightly broader in the shoulders and his hair was definitely a very pale blonde. Mary wondered if they were Norwegian or Swedish.
"Name?" she asked as she moved to the lectern holding the restaurant bookings book.
"Ron Ladris" he offered
Mary drew her finger across the list of names until she reached the corresponding table number.
"The booking isn't until 4.30pm. Mr Ladris hasn't arrived"
Mr Golden and Arrogant snorted. Mr Silver and Nice ignored him.
"The table is free, follow me and I'll seat you gentlemen early anyway."
Mr Silver rewarded her with a close-lipped but warm smile and followed her as she led the way to the back of the room.
They passed by Signor Brucco and a struggling Jasmine.
"Look I really don't think that's appropriate. Please don't touch me again." She was gritting her teeth, trying to keep calm and professional.
Mary snickered as she guided her handsome twosome away from the squabble. Only the twosome wasn't following. Mr Gold had stopped and was now standing staring at Jasmine. He had gone very pale beneath his sunglasses.
"Dorthach vi mar han, bess nin?"* He whispered the strange words and they burned into Jasmine's mind.
Her eyes widened in shock and the stranger only intensified his stare. He noted every inch of her, she had changed in many ways but her eyes were the same. Stormy blue, like the Oceans of Arda he had sailed to find her, when his time on Middle Earth had come to end. Only Thranduil had never found her. For she was not amongst the elves in Valinor when he arrived…
* Dorthach vi mar han, bess nin?"* Are you part if this world, my wife?