In the Beginning (Volkov Bratva #1)(16)

“Easy for you to say,” she said already in a better mood. “The most you do is tell them they’re being cut off for the night and call them a cab.”

He shrugged a massive shoulder. “Pays to be the boss.”

She walked back towards the table, giving herself a mini pep talk along the way. The likelihood of her seeing Rebecca again was slim to none. She could make it through one night without an incident and the risk of losing her job.

The customer is always right. The customer is always rights. Maybe if she said it to herself enough times, she might actually believe it.

Balancing the tray against her hip and the table, she set Rebecca’s glass and water in front of her, then went about trying to open the wine. It proved harder than she imagined, especially with Rebecca snickering in the background. Either she wasn’t getting the screw in deep enough, or the bottle was plotting against her.

“Allow me.” Mishca was out of his seat, his hand on hers as he expertly popped the cork out—the showoff—but allowed her to pour the drinks.

Remembering the way she saw Diego do it, Lauren poured a small amount into Mishca’s wineglass, allowing him to be judge whether or not he liked it. Taking a tentative sip, he nodded once and winked at her.

Jonathan was looking between the two of them with an odd expression on his face, but he didn’t say anything as Lauren poured the rest of their drinks.

“Are you all—”

“Ew, this glass is dirty.” Rebecca held the offending glass up, frowning at Lauren. “I want another.”

Lauren’s smile was slowly fading. “Sure thing. Would you all like to—”

“I would prefer,” she went on, cutting her off again, “if I got my drink order now.”

Tiffany laughed, though it sounded forced as she turned glacial eyes to her friend. “I’m sure it can wait until after we order dinner, right?” It seemed, even Rebecca’s friend was tired of her. “I’m ready to order, Lauren.”

At that moment, Lauren decided that not all friends were of the same company. “Okay.”

She wrote down their consecutive orders: steak for Mishca, medium-rare with a side of asparagus; rare burger with all the fixings and fries for Jonathan; a house salad with a side of olive oil vinaigrette for Tiffany; and for Rebecca, the night’s specialty, Ratatouille. Lauren read their orders back to them, making sure she wrote down everything correctly, then left for the register to put the orders in.

She felt a migraine beginning behind her left eye, but Lauren pushed through it, returning to the table to give Rebecca a new glass that she double checked before bringing it over—this time without incident—and retreated to the kitchens.

Tara was back, sitting in the break room with her son as he showed her his school work for the day. At Lauren’s arrival, he smiled and waved, running over to hug her legs, as he did whenever one of them came to the back.

Speaking to him quietly, Tara ushered him back into the room, pulling the door up as she left, promising to check on him in a bit. Something about that seemed oddly familiar to Lauren, but she couldn’t put her finger on why. Misunderstanding Lauren expression, Tara guided Lauren over to the doors.

“Why do you look so sour?”

Snapping out of it, Lauren glared at her. “I hate you right now.”

Tara gasped in mock outrage. “Me? What did I do?”

“Table. Six. Teen.”

Through the small windows in the doors, Tara peered out, whistling low. “It’s that table, isn’t it? You have to ignore Rebecca, she forgets to take the silver spoon out of her mouth when she retreats from her castle in the sky.”

“You know them?” She almost sounded as disbelieving as Rebecca had when she asked Mishca about her.

“Not personally, but I’ve seen them around enough to know about them.” She pointed at the guys. “That’s Jonathan and—”

“Mishca. Yea, I know him.”

Tara lifted a perfectly arched brow, grinning mischievously. “Do you now?”

“Not like that. I met him a few times at a coffee shop near my school.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it nowadays? Besides, I would totally understand why you would. He’s so swoon worthy. I’d sacrifice chocolate for a month for a night with him. ”

Lauren giggled softly, but made no comment, just turned back to where the chefs were placing the orders up into the serving window, ringing the bell.

“Would you mind helping me carry this?” She asked, then added, “It was your table after all.”

Tara laughed. “You’re guilting me already.”

With her help, Lauren carried the table’s food out to them, careful to avoid laughing out loud as Tara whispered something along the lines of, ‘licking Mishca’s chest.’

Once the food was delivered, and they were heading back to the kitchen, Rebecca gasped, loud enough to garner the attention of the few people in the restaurant, even Diego.

When they had left from the kitchen, Lauren saw that Rebecca had looked even angrier than before, but she had just assumed she was still putting on an act because of Mishca, but as she rushed back to the table, in an instant she knew that she should have sent Tara instead, since it seemed that most of Rebecca’s anger was directed towards her.

Lauren was expecting to fetch new silverware, or fresh linens, but instead, Rebecca pushed away from the table.