Meet Me Halfway(73)

I saw a few people as I passed, but most only offered a quick smile or a half-wave. Things had become different after the fiasco with Rob. He hadn’t been well-liked, so no one seemed to hate me over him being fired, but they also didn’t strike up conversations with me anymore. No one was necessarily rude; they just didn’t know how to act around me.

It was as if the sexual harassment I’d experienced had affected them. Seeing me only reminded them of something they’d prefer to forget. I was no longer just a person. I was that person, and they didn’t know what to say to me.

I stepped into the bathroom, efficiently switching out of my office clothes for my waitressing uniform before slipping back out and making my way through the lobby and to my vehicle.

I’d only recently started changing clothes here so I could drop Jamie at home without going inside. I’d felt weird about it at first, but it saved me time so I’d gotten over it pretty quick.

The restaurant had no problem with me clocking in a few minutes early, and with the holidays coming up, I needed every extra tip I could get.

Honestly, I was tempted to take a few extra guard shifts as well. Jim had already asked me if I’d be available and willing to cover more Saturdays as the holidays approached so some of the other guards could have full weekends off with their families.

The irony wasn’t lost on me, and I’d kind of just stared at him before making some off-hand comment saying I’d think about it. I still hadn’t decided.

The restaurant was quiet when I walked in, only a few straggling customers spread around. I waved to one of the new girls who was lazing about the host stand and made my way to the back to clockin and store my things.

The quiet didn’t last long. By five o’clock we had a full house. It wasn’t Super Bowl slammed, but it kept me busy enough that the time whirred by. Five quickly turned to six and six to seven. These were my favorite kind of shifts, the fast-moving ones.

I smiled at a toddler strapped into a highchair at one of my tables, playing a game of peekaboo with my order pad while waiting for her father to dig through his wallet for his credit card.

She squealed, clapping her hands and showing me two rows of tiny teeth. Her chubby cheeks were covered in ketchup, but it was nothing compared to the globs of it I could see on her lap. I chuckled, grabbing an extra stack of napkins from the neighboring table and handing it to her mother, who gave me an appreciative smile.

All my other tables had received their meals and would be set for a few minutes before I’d need to check on them, so once I finished cashing out the small family, I headed into the back to get a head start on my side duties.

Tonight, I was in charge of refilling ranch bottles, and I hated it. The sad truth about restaurants—this one included—was they never replaced condiment containers unless they broke. They just had us top off the bottles using bulk containers night after night. No rinsing, no washing, no emptying out the old stuff first. Just refilled and reused over and over again.

Cringe.

I was on my fifth one when Nate popped his head through the swinging door. “Hey, Curly, you got a two top at seventeen.”

I tipped my head, indicating I’d heard.

“I went ahead and took their drink orders since they wanted beer, so swing by and grab ’em on your way.”

“All right, thanks, Nate.”

“And maybe clean up your face a little as well.”

I looked up sharply, spilling ranch down my fingers. “Why? What’s on my face?” I asked, wiping the back of my wrist across my forehead.

“Nothing, you spaz. I just meant one of them is sizzling hot. Like, the kind of hot I’d happily spread my cheeks for while screaming thank you.”

“Jesus, stop. I’ll never be able to wash that image out. Clench your butt and go make my drinks,” I said, waving him off with my non-ranch-covered hand. He winked at me but did as I bid.

Typically, I enjoyed when I had an attractive, single man as a customer. I was only human and enjoyed casual flirting as much as the next lonely person, but I found myself not even remotely interested tonight. In fact, I was kind of dreading walking out there.

If I wanted a decent tip, I’d give him a couple extra smiles and stop by to chat a few times, but the idea tasted bitter in my mouth. There was certainly a hot single man I’d like to do that with, but he wasn’t a random stranger.

Grabbing a paper towel, I wiped my hand free of ranch and pepped myself up before marching back onto the floor with a smile on my face.

A smile that froze almost instantly.

Oh.

Well, Nate hadn’t been wrong, the man was absolutely cheek-spreading worthy. Before the table noticed me, I retreated through the swinging door, circling around the back to the other side of the restaurant, and dashed straight into the bathroom.

After cleaning up my messy bun—the bad messy, not the cute kind—and smacking my cheeks a few times, I took a deep, steadying breath. I could do this.

“Hi, guys, I’m Madison, and I’ll be your server this evening.” I set the two beers I was holding on the table and then placed both hands on my hips.

“Your name tag says Curly.”

I pursed my lips, “They like nicknames here. You can call me either. Are you ready to order or do you need a few more minutes?”

“I don’t know about him, but I’m just here to enjoy some drinks and the impeccable view.” He lifted the bottle to his mouth, his tongue darting out slightly before his lips made contact, and he took a swig, eyes pinned on me.