"Here's your stuff," Terry said as he held out my bag and jacket. "Do you need a ride? Or a shower perhaps?" he asked as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
I looked at him sternly for a second before getting a whiff of myself. I cringed at how badly I smelled. I reeked of beer (though I never drank last night), sweat, and a whole lot of other things. Basically, I smelled like someone who had a rough night. Glancing back at him, I gave him a grim smile and gestured for him to wait a second. Shortly after that, I sprinted to the bathroom to freshen up. When I finally had a good look at myself in the mirror, I jolted in surprise once I saw my reflection. I almost didn't recognize myself. Maybe I was just overreacting, but I think I looked like a caveman with my fuzzy hair and dark eye bags.
I sighed for a second before showering really quickly. I brushed my teeth after and then tried very hard to straighten my hair, which I ended up styling into a messy bun anyway. Lastly, I changed into fresh clothes in less than fifteen minutes. When I was done, it didn't take long for us to be on the road.
I accepted Terry's offer this time around, since it was already noon. I was already late than usual. On the ride there, I prepared a bunch of excuses on why I was late. It's quite hard to convince someone who knows you inside and out and could tell if you lied.
"Hey, Dad. Terry is with me today," I greeted once I entered the room. He was watching reruns again.
"Hi, Mr. Peterson. How are you today?" Terry greeted as he followed me inside, bringing a box of goodies as gift. The truth was I bought those as a peace offering in case my alibi didn't go well.
"Terry! I'm doing good, son. How are you? Is my daughter behaving well?" my father asked, muting the television as he turned to face us.
"I'm fine, Mr. Peterson. Andy is behaving like an angel, as always," Terry replied with a smile. The sarcasm in his voice was thick.
I eyed him for a second and rolled my eyes. "Dad, did Dr. Stanley finish his rounds already?" I asked, changing the topic.
"You just missed him," he replied nonchalantly, but kept his eyes on me like he was studying my expression. "Do you like him?" he asked after a moment.
"What?! Where did you get that idea?" I asked, shocked by his question.
"No reason. I just wanted to know your reaction," my father replied calmly, and then increased the volume again. I sighed in relief and sat on my usual chair.
Terry stayed with us for a while, but excused himself after mouthing that Andrew wanted to meet up. I simply nodded at him in consent. For the rest of the afternoon, my father and I just watched his favorite reruns. It seemed as if he wasn't angry about my tardiness, or if he was, he did a good job hiding it. A couple of shows later, I rose from my seat and told him I was going. That's when he finally spoke up.
"Why were you late this morning?" he asked.
"I was late because I overslept. I know it's unlike me, but I was doing some extra work last night," I replied, holding up a finger, as a sign for him to stop when he opened his mouth to interject. This was the excuse I decided to use because there was a little bit of truth to it, hopefully to cover up the real reason.
"Oh. Okay. Just don't drain yourself. And get some sleep. If you're too tired to visit, you should just stay home and rest, you know." He looked and sounded worried.
"I'm alright, Dad. You don't have to worry so much," I replied, giving him a hug to hide my solemn expression.
I didn't prolong my stay, so I said goodbye and rushed out of the room. On the ride back to Terry's place, I was mostly spaced out. My thoughts were preoccupied with my father's condition. I never wanted to lie to him, but if I told him the truth, it would make him worry even more and probably worsen his condition. I felt miserable every time I did that. Back then, I never lied to him. But now, I'm lying to him more and more, and it hurts every time I keep doing that to him.
It didn't take long for Terry to notice my mood when we arrived at work. When I didn't make a move to remove the helmet, he frantically waved his hands in front of me.
"Earth to Andy! Are you awake?" he asked, snapping his fingers when I didn't respond.
I simply looked at him with a smirk. "I'm fine, Terry. Just slightly worn out," I admitted glumly but with a smile on my face.
"I think you need some chocolate mousse cake to cheer you up. And you're in luck. I know where to get one," he stated with a reassuring smile.
"You know that is not allowed, right?" My eyebrow rose up in surprise at the implication that he'd just grab one of the cakes in the restaurant.
"Don't worry. I'm buying it in case they find out," he replied as his smile broadened. I hopped out of his motorcycle. He reached out for my helmet, taking it from me.
I smirked in reply, not knowing what to say after that. We got in the restaurant and went straight to our lockers and changed into our uniform. It consisted of a plain, white polo and black slacks paired with black shoes. Management provided everything after one was accepted to the job.
My evening started uneventfully, like yesterday. I was glad that there were no douchebags seated on my section, but I couldn't say the same for Terry. When I met him by the computer to punch in an order, he was mumbling to himself in a silent rage.
"Are you alright?" I asked when I reached him, giving him a light pat on the back.
He replied with a frustrated sigh as he continued to type in the written orders in his small notepad. When he was finished, he glanced up at me and gave me a grim smile. "I'm not," he replied softly, his smile not reaching his eyes.
"Which table?" I asked, already knowing the reason for his sour mood.
"Nineteen," he stated, his voice unusually low from trying to maintain control. I could see from the way he clenched his teeth and his hands balled into fists that he was on the brink of losing it.
"What did he do?" I asked calmly as I quickly glanced at the table. The customer looked like every other businessman present in the room, wearing the usual dark navy suit without a tie. There was a short pause as I continued to assess the man. So, I turned to look at Terry but he really wasn't in the mood for a recap.
"Tell me about it later in the bar. We can drink it off," I offered as I gave him one last comforting pat before taking his place in the computer.
This made him smirk and chuckle a little. "Wow. I didn't know that one night in a bar could change you into this kind of woman, Andy."
"It didn't. I was just humoring you," I countered with a grin.
He snorted in reply, his smile still in place. With a final shake of his head, he walked towards the counter where trays of food were present. I worriedly looked at his retreating figure for a second before getting back to business. When I finished typing my set of orders, I noticed Reyna ushering a new customer to a reserved table.
As my eyes finally reached the man's face, I stiffened. His dirty blond hair was slicked back and his dark gray silk suit, with a black polo underneath, snugly fitted him. He looked like one of those moguls on the cover of a lifestyle or business magazine. William Maxwell. The man with the power to fire me from both my jobs and perhaps make it difficult for me to get another one in a city he mostly owns. A man I don't want to be enemies with, although that is getting harder every time we meet.
Mr. Mogul, which was quite an apt title for him, was seated in the same table he occupied on his last visit. I've learned my lesson after that first encounter, so I ignored him and entertained the rest of the tables in my section except his. He, too, ignored my presence for a while, until he condescendingly snapped his fingers when I passed by, adding fuel to the fire.
I resisted the urge to shout as I turned to him with my best fake smile. "Is there something you need, sir?" I asked.
He wasn't able to reply right away as his phone vibrated on the table, getting his full attention. I wanted to walk away after that, but he held his finger up as a signal for me to wait. I waited for him to finish his call, all the while trying to control my temper.
When he was finally done, he didn't bother looking at me. Instead, he glanced down at the menu in front of him and remained silent for another minute, as if he had all the time in the world. I wanted to smack the man in the head right then and there, but he suddenly looked up. A pair of clear sky blue eyes stared directly at me.
"Have you finally figured out who I am?" he asked firmly, his familiar British accent thick and his voice deep.
"There wasn't much choice on my part," I replied in the same tone and looked back at him gravely.
"How so?" he asked, his lips in a smirk.
This man is trying to test what little patience I have left. "Well, I had to find out sometime, since I do work here. I mean, what kind of an employee would I be if I don't know who my employer is?" My self-control was starting to wear thin.