BAD REP(10)

Jordan led us around, introducing us to the rest of the kitchen staff.  Rozzi was the head cook and Jordan let us know that he was going through a nasty divorce after his wife caught him screwing Lyla, the other bartender.

Cal and Tito, the two line cooks were, according to Jordan, an item, though they tried to keep their relationship on the down low.  Jordan told me that he had caught them making out in the freezer after hours a couple of times.

“You weren't kidding when you said this was a dysfunctional family.  This is like Melrose Place,” Riley said, after meeting Dina, another waitress who had a second job as a topless dancer the next town over at a club called Badlands.

“Yeah, these people are a little nuts.  But they're cool.  You'll see,” Jordan assured as he led us to a table to fill out our tax forms and the other paperwork for Moore.  “Riley you'll be shadowing Damien tonight.  Mays, you'll be following Evian and just so you know, I want to offer my condolences in advance.”

I almost crowed over the way he shortened my name.  I couldn't help but smile brightly at him.  “Oh, yeah?  Is Evian that bad?” I asked.  Jordan grimaced.

“Let's just say, the kitchen crew doesn't call her Evian the Terrible for nothing.”  Oh great.  Just what I needed.  To be trained by a sadistic dictator.

“Do you guys want something to drink before I head over to the bar?  I have to do inventory before my shift,” Jordan asked.

“I'll have a Coke,” I answered, looking up at him through my lashes.  I glanced at Riley, who was giving me the look.  “What?” I mouthed to her.  Riley shook her head and turned to Jordan.

“Yeah, I'll have a Coke too, thanks,” she told him blandly.

“Two Cokes it is.  Be right back.”  Jordan gave me a wink before heading over to the server station to fill up two glasses with soda.  Riley smacked me in the arm.

“Stop it!”  she hissed.  I frowned and rubbed my arm.

“What are you talking about?” I whispered back.

Riley pointed at me, waggling her finger.  “I know that look on your face!  You're picturing him naked with you naked.  Just stop it!  Give your libido a rest, woman!  Or did you forget about Eli?  Wait, maybe I shouldn't be complaining about that. But seriously, you just met the guy!”

I rolled my eyes.  “I'm not thinking about him in any way, Riley.  Chill out.  And even if I was, who cares?”  I picked up a pen and started filling in the blanks on one of the forms.

“Because if you date him and it ends badly, it'll be weird and awkward working here and you'll end up quitting.  Then you'll be back at square one.  Haven't you ever heard you should never date someone you work with?  I mean, that's common sense.”  Riley huffed out an exasperated breath.  I shrugged, which I knew annoyed the crap out of her.

“I'm not going to date him.  I doubt he even notices me.  I mean, have you looked at him?  I'm sure he has girls falling at his feet every time he blinks. Besides, he's got that bad boy, player thing written all over him.  I have my hands full with one player already.”  I didn't mean it to sound as depressing as it did.  But what I had said was true.  I knew Jordan's type.  And I was attracted to them like bees to tasty, hormone soaked honey.

He was gorgeous, he played in a band, he was a freaking frat boy and he had the whole tattoo, piercing thing going on.  I was very aware of what he was, without knowing any more than that.  I knew I was as susceptible to those twisted charms as the next girl.  But it didn't mean that I would necessarily do anything about it.

Riley gave me a look of disbelief.  “Oh, he notices you all right.  His eyes have been glued to your ass every time you turn around.”   At that moment, Jordan reappeared with two glasses of Coke.  I almost choked and knew that I was turning an unhealthy shade of red.  I desperately hoped he hadn't heard anything.

If he had, he played dumb.  Jordan slipped into the booth across from us and leaned against the wall, putting his feet up.  “So, you gals feel ready?”  he asked, reaching across the table and snagging my Coke.  He drank from the straw and handed it back to me with a smile.

I gave him a mocking glare and moved my drink out of his reach.  “Yeah, we'll see.  If I can make it through the night without dropping something or making an idiot of myself, then we can call it a success.  Until then, the jury's still out,” I commented, sucking on my straw.  I couldn't help but feel gooey over the fact that my lips were touching the same piece of plastic that Jordan's had a few seconds before.