by Alice Ward
“A selfie?” She looked as confused as I assumed she would.
I gave her my most earnest smile. “For a friend.”
Her head cocked again. “No.”
I sighed. “Alright, this is embarrassing, but my accountant wants to see a picture of you to prove that you were the one I gave the money to. I told him I spent the money on a tip for a waitress, and he didn’t believe me. It’s my money, but he doesn’t want me doing stupid things with it. Our family has used his services for some time. He is hyper vigilant and believes the money had to have been embezzled by someone in the company. Just one tiny photo with me to prove that you are in fact the waitress I dropped 15K on.” I flashed another earnest smile.
“Fine,” she grumbled.
She inched her way into the booth, and I wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer. She was trembling, which excited me. I did affect her. She certainly affected me. Being so near was piquing my arousal. Even though I barely grazed her perfect body, it was exciting enough to have my dick ready to rock her world. She smelled like lemon and coconut, it was all exquisitely stimulating.
I positioned the phone above our heads.
“Okay, smile,” I instructed.
She gave a half-hearted, bewildered smile, which made her look more alluring I discovered when I inspected the photo.
“Are you going to order anything?” she asked politely as she slid out from under my arm, grabbing her pad as she exited the booth.
“Not this time,” I said, using my businesslike tone.
I busted the bottle of champagne out of its insulated bag, presenting it to her like I was the waiter.
“I have one more favor to ask you,” I added.
She gave me the side eye. “What is it?”
“I’d like you to share this bottle of champagne and a meal with me.” I made a valiant attempt to look innocent.
“Why?”
This wasn’t going to be easy. “Because I think you’re beautiful, and I’d like to get to know you better,” I confessed.
“By get to know you better, you mean…?” She lifted an auburn brow.
I leaned forward, just enough for her to feel my interest but not enough to scare her away. “I mean talk with you and share a meal, that’s all.”
Her eyes widened. Shit, I scared her after all. “No, I’m sorry, I’m not comfortable with that.”
“You’re not comfortable with eating?” I teased, trying to lighten her up a bit.
No woman had ever made this so hard. It was just a meal.
“Oh, I like eating just fine,” she said, scorching me.
I wanted to pull her over my lap and spank her sweet bottom, then kiss it and make it all better.
I took a deep breath. “Caitlyn, I don’t know why you seem to hate me so much. After our little misunderstanding, I tried to make it up to you with a hefty tip. Of course, that doesn’t obligate you to join me, but I’m hoping you’ll give me a chance. I drove a long way, hoping for a do-over. Can you find it in your heart to grant me that chance?” I must admit, I was even impressed with the sincerity I was able to pull off.
I felt her soften. “Fine, on one condition.”
Holy fuck, she agreed!
“Your condition?” This should be fascinating.
“You have to pay the restaurant for two meals and tip the waitress. Your server tonight is Linda.” She pointed to the mousy woman pouting in the corner.
Those were certainly easy terms to accommodate. “Agreed.”
“And… I only have a half hour break, so after that, I have to go back to work.”
I looked around. “There aren’t many people here. Do you think we might get some wiggle room on the length of your break?”
She didn’t even consider it. “Nope.”
“Such a good employee,” I mocked as I patted the seat beside me.
She opted to sit across from me. So stubborn.
“Ma! I’m taking my break,” she yelled across the room.
Ma waved her hand, brushing Caitlyn off.
I grinned at the old woman. “She’s a salty sort, isn’t she?”
Actually, I wasn’t too different than Ma. I could be pretty abrasive at times as well. Note to self: be more personable to my assistant and others in my world.
Caitlyn lifted her shoulder. “It’s just Ma, no one expects her to be nice. So what do you want to know?”
Mmm, so impetuous.
“Well, first of all, why do you work here? I am sure there are more upscale restaurants or possibly better jobs a woman with your intellect might choose.” Well, that didn’t come out exactly as I wanted it to.
The ball was in her court.
Her eyes widened. “Um… yeah, okay. I’m not sure how to answer that since you basically just insulted me.”
“I was going for flattery, one fail for KP.” I attempted to look remorseful. “I mean to ask, is being a server at this location your life’s ambition?”
She laughed at me outright.
“I think I prefer the insult. But to answer your question, I work here because it’s near my house and is open all night. I have a day job that pays shit, so I have to work extra.”
I waited for more, but that was all she was going to give me.
“Ever entertain the idea of getting a higher paying job? Just so you didn’t have to work so much?”
I was trying to keep this light, communicative, but what I really wanted to do was whisk her out of here, bridal style, drive her to some secluded hill and kiss her succulent mouth, which still had a faint glossy pink on it from an earlier application of lip tint.
“I work with at risk kids. Their families can’t pay a lot, so it’s worth it. There’s more to life than money.” She eyed me hard.
“That’s noble,” was all I could muster since I was lost in the thought of her lips.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “And you? Did you always have too much money or did you rob a bank or something?”
“Always had it,” I answered as I poured two glasses of champagne and took out our dinner.
Dean & DeLuca never disappointed. I brought out some arugula salad with mandarin oranges and goat cheese, seared salmon with tarragon truffles, handcrafted bread with cheeses, and an assortment of Belgian chocolate truffles for dessert. She seemed impressed by the spread.
“Must be nice to be able to afford this,” she said absentmindedly as she glanced at the food.
“It’s very nice, but rich people have problems too. Do you eat fish?”
I hadn’t thought about it, that she may have been a vegetarian or some kind of animal rights activist. I panicked for a moment.
“Fish is fine. Rich people problems? What do you mean? What could they possibly have problems with?”
“Um, dating feisty waitresses.” Oh god, that was a slip. “But it’s a conversation for another day.” I blew off her inquiry because I was absolutely not ready to go there, not tonight.
Tonight was about getting into her pants. Wait? No, um, tonight was about getting to know her. I was horrible at this. As I brought out the food, the mousy waitress placed chipped, dingy plates and utensils on the still disturbingly tacky table. This was almost as rough as camping, but I brushed it off, I had a larger purpose to focus on.
“Pass me your plate,” I ordered, and she did so cautiously.
“So,” I continued our conversation, “what do you want to be when you grow up?”
“Are you seriously asking me this?” She seemed exasperated with me.
“I want to get to know you.” Why was I being so awkward?
“Why do you want to know me so badly? Just because you think I’m beautiful? There are plenty of beautiful people in the world.”
I leaned forward, wanting to touch her so damn bad I nearly had to sit on my hands to keep from reaching for her. “Well, you are exceptionally so.”
“Is this a date?” she asked point blank.
“Maybe.” I stared in
her gorgeous brown eyes and waited for what that fiery mouth might shoot back at me.
“Or maybe it’s what?” She hadn’t even tasted her food, and she seemed ready to bolt. I had to snag her.
“Or maybe it’s something more casual. It doesn’t have to be anything as formal as a date per se.” Well, I said what I wanted to say, and yet… wow, it came out all wrong.
Damn!
“Casual as in…?” she goaded me.
“As in whatever you might want it to be. I have plenty of money, we can do whatever you fancy in any way you fancy it. I’m good at a lot of things. You’re sure to enjoy yourself. I’m quite a skilled lover, I think you will be well satisfied. I’ll pay for everything and make sure that your every need is taken care of.”
I needed to just shut the fuck up right now.
I was letting my lust do the talking, and I instantly regretted it. Why couldn’t I be sincere? What was holding the part of my heart that knew how to be a gentleman captive? Was I only capable of seducing women?
Tears welled in her eyes, and she threw her napkin on the table. “No, thank you, Mr. Preston.”
“Call me KP.” What was I doing? “Listen, I just want to talk.”
Wow, I sounded so desperate.
“You want to talk about ‘what I fancy and how I fancy it,’ well, here it goes. I fancy world peace and fairness for all people, not just people like you who already have too much. I fancy a man who doesn’t ask me why I would want to work in a dump like this. I fancy a world where a person can do their job without some megalomaniac coming in and ruining their day. What I don’t fancy is being propositioned, for a second time. And… Mr. Preston, do you know what I fancy most of all? I fancy a man who can see me as a human being, not just a walking vagina. I want a man who doesn’t think a few thousand dollars, a bottle of champagne, and some wild caught salmon is enough to get me on my back, ready for you to give me ‘something I’m sure to enjoy.’”
When she stood and turned to walk away, I reached out and grabbed her arm. I hoped it wasn’t too rough, but this was my last chance. “How can I make this better? I came all this way just to…” I faltered, unsure how to go on without making this worse.
She wrenched her arm out of my grip. “You came all this way to get what you weren’t able to get last time.” She took off her apron and walked away, then grabbed her coat on the rack near the door. I moved to follow her, but she turned and held her palm out as I approached.
“It’s not like that at all,” I was nearly begging.
She looked at me dead on, her gorgeous face stern, strong, and so fucking sexy.
“Everyone in the restaurant has googled your name, they know who you are. Your reputation as a producer of big movies is well documented. Bravo. So too is the fact that you are a womanizing scumbag with a mean temper. I don’t need that in my life, and believe it or not, your money doesn’t change my view on this one little bit. Shocking as this may seem, Mr. Preston, there are some people in the world money can’t buy. Ma, I’m leaving for the night. Fire me if you want.”
She didn’t wait for an answer, just turned and pushed the door open. She paused and looked back at me. “Don’t follow me, and please, don’t ever come back.” Then she was gone, the glass door slamming behind her.
Ma waved her hand in the air with disdain. “Hotheaded kid,” she scoffed then looked at me with her snaggletoothed grin, “come back whenever you want.”
The gristly, half-drunk man sitting at the bar next to me angled his face toward mine. “Modern women, ain’t no way to snag ‘em these days,” he said earnestly.
He smelled of cheap booze and looked as if he was due for a new razor as his facial hair was unevenly shaved.
“I guess,” I grumbled.
“I’ve been trying to get this girl into the sheets for fifty years now, and she ain’t havin’ me,” he said as he lovingly caressed Ma’s wrinkled and liver-spotted hand, which was the same hand Ma used to bat him away from her.
“Shut up and eat your Salisbury steak, Ed,” she yelled, and he sheepishly went back to his meal without saying anything else.
Oddly, there were uncanny parallels in the scene playing out before me. I shuddered to think I would be Ed one day. Through the glass door, I watched Caitlyn leave. She looked rattled to her core. She was crying, and it was a punch in the gut to watch her get in a dilapidated old car that appeared to be on its last leg.
I felt horrible. I had upset her to such a degree, she had to leave. She was in no state of mind to be driving such a dangerous vehicle. As I watched her pull out of the parking lot, I felt all eyes on me. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t know what, so I turned to the mousy waitress who was leaning on a wall in the corner. “Do you mind getting my bill?” I asked as gently as I could.
“Ya ain’t got no bill,” she barked.
“I’d like to pay for two meals. Whatever you think is appropriate.”
“Ya want your stuff?” she asked coarsely.
I just shook my head.
There was a twinkle in her eye as she glanced at the table. “Not even that good champagne? It’s hardly been drunk.”
“You can have it,” I said as she handed me the bill.
I gave her my credit card and ignored the stares, thinking about what Caitlyn had said. Was my reputation really so bad? I blew out a breath. Of course it was. I was exactly that man.
And I hated it.
Maybe with someone as fresh and honest as Caitlyn in my life, I could… Could what? Change? I scoffed at the idea, but somewhere inside my head, the thought loomed.
“Here’s your card back, sir,” the mousy waitress said as she handed me the slip to sign.
I signed, giving her a one-hundred-dollar tip.
The drive back to New York was a long and sad one for me as I replayed my conversation with Caitlyn over and over again in my head. It was torture. By the time I had sufficiently horrified myself with my own words, I emphatically understood how wrong I’d been. The words. The actions. The intent. Everything.
The problem was… I had no idea what else I could have said. I tried to think of something else, something more heartfelt and human, but anything I could come up with sounded even shittier. I didn’t have it in me to be thoughtful or heartfelt. I was a coldhearted monster.
I had another fitful night of sleep. This time, I dreamed of making love with Caitlyn, and instead of enjoying my talents as a lover, she was cutting off pieces of my flesh with a butter knife. When I woke, I was even more frustrated. Her cutting me as easily as one cut butter was a metaphor if I’d ever heard one. Maybe that was why I was so attracted to her. I hadn’t the skills to woo her, so I wanted her more.
My rescheduled weekly sparring match with Lucas was in the early afternoon. I needed it badly. I had to vent my anger and aggression as soon as possible. Also, since he was more successful in love than I was at the moment, I wanted to kick the shit out of him for it, then begrudgingly ask him for advice. I hated to ask for help, but I was hitting a brick wall on this. I was possibly out of my league. I was loath to admit it, and would only do so under duress, but the little waitress had gotten me.
To my credit, I was a bit more conscious of my dealings with people in the office as I tried not to be so short-tempered. I used more “pleases” and “thank yous” than I ever had, and I actually stopped and talked pleasantly with my assistant about nothing of true importance before I attacked the pile of work on my desk. I checked my tone and practiced making it sound pleasant and caring. This took an immense amount of mental effort on my part, which nearly caused me to have a stroke, but the practice was worth it. My attempts at civility were noted by Sandra, who gave me a warm and gracious smile.
“Someone must have had a good night,” she teased.
Shit. If she only knew how not good it was.
I grinned. “I’m turning over a new leaf.”
“Really?” She seemed shocked.
“Don’t get your hopes up tho
ugh,” I warned, “I might not be able to pull this off.”
“I won’t.” She seemed a little deflated by the prospect of me returning to my usual state of unpleasantness.
“You let me know if I slip,” I said with a wink. “I’m in a twelve-step program for assholes.”
I closed my door on her confused laugh, needing to escape people. I didn’t want to “people” longer than I had to today. Ironic how my assistant teased me, assuming something wonderful happened last night. She would probably have a good laugh knowing that my ass had been handed to me by a fucking waitress. Shit. I mean server — I think that’s what she called the mousy woman… Linda. Whatever, it was all hard.
What I really needed right now was my brother, but I wasn’t willing to confess my sins to him yet. He wouldn’t understand, and he was my harshest and most honest critic.
I owed him his weekly picture, so I sent off the selfie with Caitlyn, guilt riding my back as I did so. As expected, he loved the photo because, moments later, he returned my message with hearts and smiles bursting all over the page. Each one was like a stab to my gut. I sent him back only one smile. He seemed disappointed.
Smile, smile, he texted, but sadly, one was all I could manage.
Lucas showed up at exactly four-thirty. I was ready for this. He was his usual jovial self, and I was ready to hit the mat and kick his balls to the moon. How could someone always be so happy?
“Ready to go down?” I asked in a jokingly aggressive manner.
“I’m ready to watch you go down,” he threw back at me. “You know you always lose.”
“Not this time,” I said, giving him a hard punch to the shoulder.
He eyed me. “Save it for the ring, my friend.”
“I’m ready,” I said as I danced around him, positioning another punch which I held tight, not wanting to hurt him.
“To kill someone, it seems. Ease up on the reins, buddy,” he playfully knocked me back.
He was right. I was ready to kill somebody and sincerely hoped it wouldn’t be my best friend. Outside of my brother, he was my only friend except Rachel, but I assumed I would lose her soon. Since I saw her last week, I’d been thinking about calling our affair off, and if I did, I assumed our friendship would be over since the only thing between us was sex. People only liked me for three things — power, sex, and money. Well, except Lucas and my little brother.