You recognize the effect and the fact
That it's comin' when she rocks the boat.
But it's the cause hittin' on the Cardinal Laws
About the proper place to hang her coat.

So to you, the truth is still hidden
And the soul plays the role of a lost little kitten but
You should know that the doctors weren't kiddin'.
She's been singing it all along.

Table 8 (Part One)

"This is what my life has boiled down to. Crab cakes."

"You mean, fried down to." My friend chuckles at her own joke while shaking her head.

I glare at her. "Madison. I'm having an epiphany here, don't be an ass."

"Chill girl. It's just a job. For money. And what do we like?"

I roll my eyes at the Latina with the tray of celery in her hands. "We like money." I mumble.

"Yes, money. It's money, so suck it up." She answers pointedly.

I play with the napkins on the edge of my platter that holds the crab cakes. I'm at work. If you call work catering to a bunch of prissy ass people. Serving them things like crab cakes and beer. Wiping up vomit that a drunk groomsman had spewed out of his mouth. Yes, work. It sucks but I need the money. Part of the charm of being a struggling college student.

"Spencer!" I hear my name screeched from the back of the kitchen. Madison has already walked out into the hall to serve the guests some appetizers. So I know the person calling my name is the head chef and my boss, Bob.

"Yes Bob?" I answer meekly.

"Get your pretty ass out there and serve these people."

"Okay." I say in a disgustingly nice tone. I give him a cheesy smile and head out into the open room.

Half an hour later I am sweating lightly. There is marinara sauce splattered down the front of my white collared shirts and some kind of potent alcohol making my black dress pants slightly damp. I come back into the kitchen with a scowl on my face and Madison is still laughing.

"Shut up." I sneer, putting the platter down and going to get a washcloth so I can attempt to clean up the mess that is myself.

"Sorry Spence, but when that old lady spilled the sauce." She laughs hard, doubling over.

"Do you want crap spilled all over you?" I ask, holding up a bottle of mustard.

She shakes her head nervously. "No, sorry. Okay, well at least they're all going to sit and dance and drink now. No one will even be eating."

"Great, so we're going to serve dinner for no reason."

"Dinner is never served for no reason!" I hear Bob yell from the back. He is currently preparing the entrées.

Madison rolls her eyes. "Sorry Bobby boy!" She yells back flirtaciously.

Madison always engages in this sickeningly flirty banter with our boss. I'm sure he only hired her because he thought she was hot. And when I asked for a job, I came in for an interview. Bob took one look at me and hired me. I wasn't sure to be pleased or totally creeped out.

"Carlin, go take this plate to the photographer. It's just a bunch of left over appetizers."

I take the plate and glare over at Madison who is secretly sipping some wine. Making my way through the hall and dance floor, I see typical wedding bullshit. People are already starting to dance and people are already quite obviously drunk. I mean, if I was at a wedding I would probably start drinking as well. There are groomsmen hitting on bridesmaid in a grossly sexual way. The bride's grandmother is sleeping in a corner. And the kids are just running around and one almost trips me. I stop the temptation to kick the boy.

Kids are cute, sure. But they're so incredibly obnoxious.

When I get to the bar, finally, all I see are people surrounding it. Sandy, the main bartender, gives me a wink as she pours a beer for some guy. She might be the only person I like here besides Madison. She hates doing this as much as I do. And although she is slightly older, she is very pretty. We always have fun making fun of the guests and parties that come through the catering hall.

I don't see the photographer. No weirdo guy with a mullet or large glasses or anything. I don't even see the wedding planner lady so I can ask her where the photographer is.

So far I've walked around in some circles looking. Then I see a camera on a table in the back of the bar. Well, that must be the phototgrapher.

You are such a Sherlock Holmes I think to myself. I roll my eyes at my stupidity, something I often do. I walk over in that direction and see that the photographer is in fact, not a guy. It's a girl with her head down. She's scribbling on a bar napkin.

When I get over to her, I clear my throat in a way to say Hey, I'm too awkward to speak to you so please look at me. The girl pulls her head up and meets my eyes. Her mouth turns in a smile and at the same time I notice that she is younger than I thought she would be. And, well, she's kind of really gorgeous.

Her bangs, and only her bangs, are dyed a shade of blonde while the rest of her hair is laying on her shoulders in brown curls. Her eyes that match her hair probe mine.

"Um, the chef, Bob, told me to bring this to you, if you were hungry." I tell her, setting the plate down a safe distance from her camera. I can't tell you how many times I have knocked shit over. People's drinks. People's dinner. People's babies.

"Thanks." She says, her voice a bit husker than I imagined it would be.

"You are the photographer, right?" I ask dumbly and then I frown.

Thankfully, the girl just chuckles. She holds up her camera and starts to inspect it curiously. "Oh, is that what this is for?"

I smile and laugh, trying to make myself not sound as awkward as I really am. "Right. Well, if you need anything else, just, lemme know."

Her eyes flicker down me and then meet back to mine. I will admit her devilish smile is a bit intimidating. "Definitely."

I turn around and walk back through the hall and into the back where Madison is sitting on a step ladder, texting.

"Do you ever do anything here besides drink and text?" I ask Madison roughly while I get some salt and pepper for Table 8. Table 8 is my worst nightmare and I not so secretly thought about dropping water all over their laps. They're constantly asking me for stuff; more beer, more salt, more bread, more napkins, more everything. I know I know, it's my job. But still. Give a girl a break, please.

"Yes, I flirt to get tips as well." The Latina answers seriously, still typing away on her cell phone.

"Nice."

"Just be nice to the old guys, they'll tip you well."

I roll my eyes

"So, did you find the photographer?" She asks me, finally putting her phone back in her pocket and looking up at me.

I nod. "Yeah, she was in the back of the bar. She was, interesting." I must smile because I see Madison smirk and stand up.

She doesn't say anything, but we've been friends and roommates long enough for her to know my subtleties. I've never said outright that my preference includes girl and not just boys. And she's never asked me outright what's up. But the past has proven a bit hinting to it. Like when I flirted with the girl at the coffee shop. Or when I resisted when some popular jock tried to lodge his tongue in my throat at a party one time.

"Is she young?"

"Yeah." I say absentmindedly. "Probably early twenties, our age. I was surprised. She must be pretty good to photograph a wedding then, right? I mean, usually people have more experienced people to-"

"Spencer, I love you but not your rambling." Madison cuts me off and pats my shoulder.

"Hey." I hear a voice say and look over to where the back door is cracked open. The photographer girl is standing there and I just look at her. "Spencer, right? Table 8 was asking for you."

I nod but frown. Damn you Table 8, I said I would be right there. "Okay, thanks."

I think she winks at me right before she leaves.

"Oh shit son. She's hot." Madison whistles with a sly smile on her face. I just look at her. "What? I appreciate. I did hook-"

"Up with that girl that one time a while ago, yes. You told me all about it." I finish for her.

"Right, well. Look, how about I go bring those bitches at Table 8 their shit and you go, I don't know, go ask the photographer if she needs anything. Like your phone number."

"Oh ha ha." I mock and hand her the tray I am holding.

"Just throwing it out there sweetie." She says and laughs as she exits the back room.

I follow her out a few minutes later. I see Madison standing at Table 8, leaning over so some guy has a good look at her cleavage. He's smiling grossly and I roll my eyes. I see the photographer girl snapping some pictures of people dancing. Of the bride and groom in a loving embrace by their table. I head into the bar.

"Hey Sandy." I smile as I sit down on a bar stool. The bar is pretty empty. It looks like everyone has joined the party inside.

"Spence, my girl. How's it going? Getting any trouble?"

I shrug. "Just from one table. But otherwise it's going pretty well. How 'bout you?"

Sandy assembles me a glass of soda and slides it to me across the bar. "Not bad. They're good tippers. Lots of drunk people. Same as always."

I tap my fingers on the bar as I sip my soda. Sandy smiles at me before she goes to the other side of the bar to fix a drink for some girl dressed scandalously.

"Shouldn't you be working?" A husky voice asks me as the figure takes a seat next to me on a stool.

I look into chocolate eyes over the top of my glass. "Oh, well, shouldn't you?"

Smooth Spencer. Smooth.

She grins wide. It's very cute and adorable. But mostly sexy as hell. "Oh, I am. Just taking a break. There's only so many pictures you can take of drunk dancing assholes." I chuckle. "But don't tell anyone I said that." She whispers close to my ear. I feel a shiver run through my body.

"I was actually going to ask you if you needed anything."

She shakes her head and pushes some curls behind her ear. "I'm good for now."

I nod and get up off the stool, leaning over the bar to put my glass in the sink. When I stand up straight again, I see the curly-haired girl's eyes snap back to my own. "Um, I'm sorry, I didn't get your name…"

"Ashley, Ashley Davies." She holds out her hand to shake mine. And when I do I feel how soft it is. She holds on to it for three seconds longer than necessary before she lets go with a tilted smile.

"Nice t-to meet you." I stutter out. I roll my eyes to myself again.

"You're cute, waitress Spencer. Were you aware?" Ashley the photographer says with a confident smile.

I feel my whole face turn red. "Um, not really. N-no."

"Well now you know." She answers with a husky laugh.

"Carlin." Madison interrupts my staring contest with this hot and confident girl. "Table 8 is looking for you. Hi, I'm Madison." She turns to Ashley after telling me the table from hell wants more from me.

"Ashley Davies. Spencer Carlin, huh?" Brown eyes look me down then back up. "Cute."

"Her name of her?" Madison cocks her eyebrow at Ashley the photographer.

"Both." She answers with a shrug.

"Um." I close my eyes and open them to try and regain some sort of awareness and sense compared to the mush I was quickly turning into. As well as the babbling idiot. "I have to go."

Ashley just smiles at me and turns back to face the bar. I walk over to Table 8 feeling all fluttery and jittery. "Can I get you some-"

But I am interrupted by Bob striding up to me. "Carlin. I need you and Madison to bring out the salad." He looks at me all squinty eyed. "Now."

"Alright." I sigh, giving the table a tight-lipped smile before I walk away.

When I get in the back, I see Madison with a cart of salad ready to hand out to the tables. "She thinks you're cuuuuute." She sings lowly as I help her push the cart out.

"And?"

Madison rolls her eyes. "Did you not see her being all flirty and all hot?"

"I saw." I murmur as I put a plate of salad in front of some drunken idiot who might or might not have just grabbed my ass. "What do you want me to do about it?"

"Let's not lie to ourselves, Spencer. You're obviously hot for her. The hers in general. Give her your number." She says, basically throwing a plate in front of a woman who gives her a nasty glare.

"Oh, okay. I'll just waltz over and slip her a note all seductively. Then I'll wink at her and walk away while shaking my ass a little." I roll my eyes. "Like I could ever pull that off."

Madison scoffs. "You're attractive Spencer, get it in your peanut sized brain. And I didn't say to be a hoe, just talk to her. Maybe she'll give you her card."

"Right, so I can call her to take pictures of me." I spit out roughly.

Madison smirks. "Now you're talking."

I glare at her as discreetly as I can, as to not upset the small child I am giving a salad to. He probably won't even eat it. What a waste of my life. "Shut up. I'm not in the mood."

"I highly doubt that." Madison mumbles just loud enough for me to hear her.

When we get back into the kitchen, Bob is standing right there with his hands on his hips like an angry mother.

"Did you see that hot guy at Table 3? My God." Madison says, disregarding the fact that Bob is standing right there. She goes to get herself a bowl of the salad we just served. One of the perks of this job is that we get to eat whatever food is not served. And Bob is s douchebag to the extreme, but he is a talented and revered chef.

"Did you talk to him?"

Madison shrugs. "I think he was with his girlfriend."

I snort. "Like that's ever stopped you before."

Madison considers this thoughtfully. "True. True." She makes up another bowl of salad and hands it to me.

"I'm not hungry." I say sullenly and sit down on the step stool.

"No fool, go bring it to your photographer girlfriend."

I glare at her but take the bowl into the bar anyway.

"Wow, you're just catering to my needs, aren't you, waitress Spencer." Ashley says with a smile as I set the bowl down in front of her.

I shrug. "Thought you might be hungry, watching all these people eat and stuff."

"Thanks, I appreciate it. Usually at these types of things I have to beg the chef to feed me." She happily brings her fork to the salad and starts to eat it. She makes a content humming sound and my eyes wash over her features. Her perfect nose, cute ears, pretty smile.

"Do you, take photographs for a lot of things like this?"

"Yeah, I mean, it pays the rent, right? Weddings, birthdays, anniversaries. But I'm actually trying to put together some pictures for a gallery."

My interest in her peaks at a higher level. "Really? That's pretty cool."

She swallows some salad and looks up at me. "So is being a caterer your dream in life?" She asks playfully. Her eyes shine and I know she's flirting with me, if not then just being very friendly. I blush for no reason and duck my head.

"Not really. I just need the money, I'm going to college for Journalism actually." I tell her, feeling more comfortable. I like how easy to talk to she is. And how nice to look at she is helps a lot too.

"Smart girl." She winks at me. "Beauty and brains, you got anything else?" If I'm wrong correct me, but her voice just sounded a bit seductive and raspier.

"Maybe." Is all I am able to say. I want to ask her how old she is, but I don't want to seem nosy. She can't be older than twenty-four.

"Senior?" She guesses, sipping a drink. I nod at her correct guess. "Well, I have to get back to work, but if you get bored, come find me."

"Definitely." I tell her with a smile.

It is two hours later. Madison and I have successfully served and cleaned up dinner without dropping any of it on anyone. Table 8 has continued to be on my shit list. That is why I have been avoiding them. I was doing well up until one obnoxious woman came over to me and told me to clean up the pitcher of soda they spilled all over the table. Madison has probably made a hundred dollars in tips by now and I am so thankful she shares them with me. I haven't talked to Ashley anymore, but every time I see her in the hall she just winks at me. I, in turn, try not to smile like a buffoon and keep doing what I'm doing without staring at her ass too much.

At the moment, I am on a short break and in the very small, cramped coatroom looking in my coat for the gum I know I left in the pocket. The door suddenly opens and a body walks into me by accident. Thankfully, I don't fall over because of all the coats lining the walls.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry." A husky voice apologizes. Then Ashley smiles when she sees it is me. Her eyes look right into mine. "My apologies, Spencer Carlin."

I just look at her and realize this is the closest we have been since I met her. I take the time to notice how incredibly delicious she smells. To notice how my body is tingling from such short but close contact. I want to touch her in some way.

The room is very small, so there is no way to move around her unless she leaves and I follow.

"Oh, it's okay." I say shakily. "I was just looking for my gum, I think I left it in my coat, but I can't find it." I end my rambling before I embarrass myself even further.

"I'm sure your breath smells great." She says gently, something in her eyes. Because I am so close, I can see the golden honey specks swirling around the brown color.

I don't usually do this. Hang out in cramped coat closets with hot older girls. But I think, maybe I could get used to it.

"I guess." I mumble.

"So, looks like I finally got you into my room." She says seriously, but with a playful smile.

I look at her. "Your room is a coat closet?" I ask stupidly before thinking.

She chuckles huskily and it makes my body react. "You are too cute." This is whispered in my ear, and I feel lips on the shell of it. The lips that are making it hard for me to breathe have now moved to my very hot cheek.

"Here's my card. Maybe you could serve me salad again sometime." She whispers into my cheek right before she kisses it delicately. I have never heard someone make salad sound so unbelievably sexy. Her hand slides the card in question into the back pocket of my black pants. She's careful not to touch my ass, even though I am internally begging her to do it anyway.

Then she's gone.

I exit the coat closet and close the door behind me. Resting my back against it, I take a moment to compose myself. To try and make myself cool off and not be basically as hot as burning coals. I touch the card in my pocket and smile.

Bob appears and meets my eyes with an angry glare. "Table 8 is asking for you."

To Be Continued...