The VIP Room(117)

“We have chamomile, Earl Grey, and mint.”

“Do you have chai?”

Rude. And deaf.

“We have chamomile, Earl Grey, and mint.”

He picked up his smartphone again and began scrolling through screens, obviously feeling as though he had dismissed her like some sort of servant. Emma looked at his companion and she shrugged slightly.

Emma walked off, pausing to see what Bob wanted before going behind the counter to fill his order.

“You should spit in the water,” Leslie whispered as she rushed past her to pick up an order waiting in the window.

Emma smiled. She thought about it, but decided she wouldn’t lower herself to his level. She still had her dignity.

She filled a mug with boiling water and set it on a saucer with one packet of each of the teas they sold. She was making a list in her head as she walked: another couple had come in and settled in a booth in her section, they’d need menus; Bob was done and wanted to pay his bill; the other table needed refills on their coffee. She paused at business suit’s table, set the tea carefully in front of him and reached for the cup of coffee he’d rejected only to realize that it was nearly empty. He’d been drinking it anyway.

She turned to walk away when he grabbed her wrist.

“I asked for honey.”

“You didn’t. But I will get you some.”

“Excuse me? Are you calling me a liar?”

Lord, help me! Emma pulled her arm from his grip. “I will get you some honey.”

“First, answer my question.”

Emma stared at him. She had never met anyone who was as argumentative and unpleasant in all her life. It was taking everything she had not to tell him what she thought of him.

“I apologize if it seemed that way,” she said instead. “I will get the honey.”

“Don’t bother. By the time you get back, it’ll be too cold to drink, anyway.”

“Okay.” Once again, Emma tried to walk away. Again, he found fault with her service.

“I asked for chai.”

“We don’t serve chai.”

“Then go to the corner store and get some.” He shook his head. “What kind of establishment doesn’t go the extra mile to make sure their customers are satisfied?”

A dozen retorts sprang to the tip of Emma’s tongue, but she bit them all back. “If you’re not satisfied, perhaps you should go to Starbucks. I understand they have a pretty good chai tea latte.”

He turned the full force of his glare on her at that. “That’s professional. Send customers to other establishments. I bet the owner of this place is so pleased with your performance.”

“She’s never complained.”

“That’s probably why this place will be out of business in less than a year.”

Emma shook her head, unable to hide her incredulity any longer. “You’re a real jerk, you know that?”

“Oh, that’s good. The uneducated, non-professional’s fallback position. Name calling.” He glanced at his companion who—much to her credit—looked horrified. “So typical.”

“It’s better to be an educated, professional *?”

He turned his attention back to Emma, his dark, olive skin flushed. “What did you say?”

“You’ve done nothing but complain and be rude since the moment you walked in here. And you have the nerve to call me uneducated? I’d rather be uneducated than be anything like you.”

She started to turn away, but he jumped out of the booth and grabbed her arm before she could get more than a few steps. “Do you know who I am? Do you know that I could buy and sell you a million times over?”

“I’d have to be for sale.”

“Everyone and everything is for sale.”

“Not me.”

“Not only could I buy and sell you, I could turn your whole world upside down. I could buy this diner and have you out on the streets by close of business today. I could buy your house and turn it into a shopping mall by the end of next week. Anything I want, I can do because, unlike you, I’m somebody.”

“I’d rather be a nobody than be alone and miserable. And you…I wouldn’t want your life if it was so lonely that you have to take your anger out on a nobody waitress.”

His eyes narrowed and his breathing suddenly changed, growing shallow and desperate. She’d clearly hit a nerve.

He jerked her arm, pulled her hard against his chest. “Fucking bitch!” he hissed so close to her face that his breath, his spittle, washed over her.

Emma’s vision went red. The anger in his voice, his movements, the threat that it all promised pushed her to an edge she knew and didn’t want anything to do with. She did the only thing open to her: she grabbed a half empty cup of coffee from the table behind him and tossed it in his face.

The familiar—comforting—sounds of the diner suddenly ceased. Someone gasped.

Business suit jerked back, releasing her arm in favor of raising his hand to strike her across the face. His companion finally got involved, jumping up to place her body between him and Emma.

“I think it’s time to go, Dante.”

He glared at her for a long second, the wheels clearly turning inside his head. But then his glare shifted back to Emma. “You will regret this,” he said, jabbing a finger in her direction before he finally turned, grabbed a couple of napkins, and stormed from the diner as he scrubbed at the coffee clinging to his face and in his hair.