“Chica, you see those hot brothers? They keep looking over here.” She says when I start to clean the host’s stand. “You didn’t kick them out did you?” She pouts as they pass us towards the exit.
“We’re closing and I’m not going to babysit a pair of drunk brothers. That’s the last thing I want.” We close up the restaurant with the help of the cooks.
“You know Scott’s gonna ask you how you like the new bracelet.” Camila says as she opens a long gift box and pulls out a sparkling diamond bracelet. “Muy linda!” She yells as I clip it on her wrist.
“I’ll say you’re really loving it. Lord knows I’ve told him to stop giving me shit.” I reply.
“Really girl, he’s not so bad looking. He’s in love with you and he’s rich, what more could you want?”
“I couldn’t care less about that stuff, Camila.” I say. “I don’t care if someone’s rich or good looking. I don’t want that.”
“Then what do you want?” She asks and holds up her blingy wrist. “What more could you want?”
“I’ve told you already. I’m waiting for love. I’ve waited this long I can wait longer. It’s going to be special, with someone special.”
“Ah, si, I forgot you’re all about that Cinderella shit. Scott can literally be your prince charming.”
“Scott can’t even look me in the eyes. It’s always tits this, ass that. My prince charming is going to look in my eyes when he talks to me. That’s the least he can do.”
“Keep waiting then.” Camila shrugs. “God knows you’ll probably get less tips when you finally get a ring on that finger.”
“I’m sure.” We finish up closing and take the subway together. She gets off before me, and I hold my pepper spray inside my purse as I wait for my stop.
Camila thinks waiting for a fairy tale romance is useless, that the perfect guy doesn’t exist. But I’m not ready to give up on romance.
I finally get back to my apartment at nearly two in the morning. After one glass of boxed wine I get ready to sleep for five hours before going to class and then work.
I convince myself that waiting for true romance isn’t naive or dumb and that it’ll happen. I repeat it to myself until I fall asleep.
Chapter Three
I walk back into work as the lunch rush starts and tend to my tables. I didn’t have time to wash my hair this morning, so my bun is frizzy and my eyes are no doubt wrinkled with shadows. Camila flaunts her bracelet as she walks by me, and I laugh and roll my eyes. At least Scott’s money is being spent on someone.
Charlie’s cleaning the bar when I ask him how his Halloween night was.
“Hookers and blow.” He jokes. “Nah, just passed out candy to the neighborhood kids. You?”
“It was fine, the cooks left all their candy in a bowl on the front after you left, so that was nice.” I tell him about the freak twins.
“Like the Shining?” He asks and I shake my head.
“No, they were actual twins. Dressed up as yin and yang or something.”
David barks at us to get back to work, and I make my rounds again. I gather up the entrees for my biggest table on a platter and hold it far above my head as I head towards them. A commotion at the other side of the restaurant gets my attention, and I turn to find David sweating profusely in front of the same twin brothers as last night.
“Oh no.” I moan, thinking they’ve asked to complain to the manager about me. I take the long way to my table to eavesdrop on the conversation.
“Mike,” David’s talking to the newest waiter of the restaurant. “These are the co-owners of Kennedy’s, they’re here to oversee the wait staff and cooks and find a few people to transfer to their second location.” He gestures to the twins and I lose my balance.
The silver platter falls to the floor, spraying food on the shoes of everyone nearby and shattering delicate plates into tiny shards. My hands shake and I attempt to pick the platter up but it slips out of my sweaty hands.
“Are you okay?” Charlie and Mike both kneel and help me, but I turn my face to hide the heat rising up my cheeks.
“Remy!” David screams behind me. I wipe my hands on my apron and stand on weak legs. “Jesus, go take a fifteen and get your head on straight!”
I take the opportunity to escape and run to the kitchens without even a glance towards the twins. Miguel, the head cook, asks if I’m okay and I nod and exit the back door. Tears well up in my eyes and I press the back of my palm to them, trying desperately not to cry.
They have every reason to fire me after being so rude to them last night, and now this? I sit on the ledge of a small garden connected to the building and drop my head in my hands. There aren’t many other places that will pay me as much as Kennedy’s does, and the tips themselves have practically been paying my rent.