She gave an irritated sigh, but said nothing. She didn't even look up.
I hesitated. Was the sigh directed at me?
Obviously, she knew I was here. She had to know. Even if I hadn't said anything, here I was, standing right next to her chair – I felt my jaw clench – within slapping distance, as coincidence would have it.
I waited for a long, awkward moment, and when she still didn't look up, I tried again. "Excuse me. I'm sorry to interrupt, but—"
With another irritated sigh, she raised her arm and lifted her index finger, as if indicating I should wait one moment while she finished.
I waited, feeling my face burn with embarrassment. I don't know why. It wasn't that embarrassing, but it made me feel incredibly awkward just the same.
Fearful that she'd think I was reading over her shoulder, I took a small step sideways, only to hear her say, "Going someplace?"
She was still looking down, and still scrolling. I felt my shoulders tighten and my blood pressure rise.
But I swallowed my irritation and said, as nicely as I could, "No. Of course not. I was just trying to give you some privacy. That's all."
"Oh," she said, still looking down. "I guess that's okay."
"But if you'd like," I said, "I can come back in a couple of minutes."
Her voice sharpened. "In a hurry, are you?"
"Uh, no," I stammered. "I just don't want to rush you."
And, I don't want to be standing here like an idiot.
"Oh, don't worry about that," she said, her tone growing decidedly snippy. "Believe you-me. I don't intend on being rushed."
Yeah, and I didn't intend on slapping her silly. But sometimes, these things just happened, didn't they?
I felt my palms grow twitchy, and my mouth grow tight. I started glancing around, wondering how long I'd be standing here.
It was then that I spotted them – my brothers, a few tables away. They had drinks and menus placed in front of them and amusement written all over their faces.
I felt my gaze narrow. What on Earth were they doing here?
And why were they looking so amused? I saw nothing funny about this whole experience.
Deliberately, I looked away, doing my best to ignore them.
Finally, after several long minutes, the woman stopped scrolling and set down her phone. She lifted her head and smiled – except it wasn't at me.
Looking past me, she called out, "Yoohoo Sarah! Over here!"
I turned my head to see a young woman around my own age, or maybe a couple of years younger. She had a colorful book-bag slung over her shoulder and a smile that looked a little strained.
She approached the table and took a seat next to the woman, whose name, I suddenly realized, I didn't even know.
But then again, I hadn't expected this to be such a long-term relationship.
Sarah looked up, meeting my gaze. "Uh, hi." She looked around. "So, uh, could I get a ginger ale?"
Eager to kill some time, I chirped out, "Sure thing," and started to turn away.
Before my escape was complete, Miss Table-for-Ten said, "Hold on." Finally, she looked at me. "You are coming back, I assume?"
Unfortunately.
"Of course," I assured her with what I hoped was a smile. "I'll be back in a minute."
On my way back to the bar, I stopped at my brothers' table. In a hushed voice, I demanded, "What are you guys doing here?"
"What else?" Steve said. "Watching to see how it goes."
"How what goes? The apology? How'd you know it was now?"
"You told us Saturday," Steve said. "Don't you remember?"
"No." It was true. I didn't remember. After talking with Jake, I'd been too high on love to remember anything. That was two days ago, and I was still a little buzzed.
"Well, you did," Steve insisted.
"So?" I said. "That wasn't an invitation."
Anthony chimed in, "But we've got this bet. We want to see who wins."
"A bet?" I hissed. "Again? On what, this time?" I shook my head. "You know what? Never mind. I'm sure I'll hear about it later."
Not that I wanted to. In truth, this was all kind of depressing. They weren't here to offer sympathy or support. Instead, I was just fodder for their entertainment.
Tonight, at Kung fu, part two, no doubt I'd be hearing all about it. I tried to look on the bright side. After that, I'd be seeing Jake, finally.
Reluctantly, I glanced toward Miss Table-for-Ten. She was facing away from us now, talking to Sarah about who-knows-what.
Following my gaze, Anthony said, "Get this. We spotted that lady in the parking lot. She drives this big, black van. It took her like twenty minutes to park."
"Yeah," Steve added. "And she got all mad when this guy parked next to her, told him that he was 'crowding her space.'" Steve gave a low laugh. "Made him move his car. I shit you not."
I gave the woman another quick glance. In a low voice, I said, "I can't say I'm surprised."
"You know what you should do?" Anthony said, "Tell her you're 'sorry' you pissed in her drink."
I shook my head. "What?"
He grinned up at me. "It's an apology, right?"
I stared down at him. The plan was seriously flawed. For one thing, I hadn't "pissed" in her drink. For another, the whole point of apologizing was to keep my job, not be escorted out by security, or worse, prosecuted for food-tampering.
"I'll think about it," I muttered, turning away to fetch the ginger ale.
"On your way back," Steve called after me, "bring us a couple of beers, will ya?"
No. That wasn't going to happen. They had a waitress, whoever it was. And there was no way I'd be calling any more attention to them, or to me, for that matter.
Back at the bar, Robert asked, "How'd it go?"
In my frustration, I forgot to be diplomatic. "Terrible."
He frowned. "How so?"
"Sorry," I said. "Actually, it hasn't even happened yet." I went on to explain how she'd been deliberately ignoring me, but wanted me to return.
By now, a sickening realization was settling over me. She wanted an audience, hand-picked by her, no less.
As I considered this, I couldn’t help but wonder, what on Earth was I doing here?
Chapter 49
With quick, jerky movements, I filled a tall glass with ice and ginger ale. As I went through the motions, I was conscious of Robert watching me, and I couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking.
As for me, I was thinking that probably I was stupid for working here, when I had a perfectly good job-offer with someone I loved and trusted.
Jake.
I glanced toward the door, half-tempted to walk out now.
But I couldn’t.
If I walked out now, I'd never know if I'd quit because it was the smart thing to do, or because I couldn’t stomach the thought of apologizing to some ninny.
Melanie's voice interrupted my thoughts. "Hey Luna, that lady's asking for you."
I looked up. She didn't need to tell me which lady. I gave her a sympathetic look. "So that's your table, huh?"
Melanie glanced at Robert and said, "Unless you want to wait on her."
It was a joke, obviously. I didn't even know who she meant – me, or Robert. Either way, it wasn't going to happen. I hadn't had the training, and Robert already looked scared shitless.
And poor Melanie. She'd been the lady's waitress the last time, too, when my stupid drawing had caused all that trouble.
I turned to her and said, "I'm sorry you got stuck with her twice. Talk about bad luck, huh?"
"It wasn't luck," she said, giving Robert an annoyed look. "He made me do it."
I turned to Robert, wondering what he would say.
"You passed along the note," he told her. "The way I see it, you're getting off light."
He meant my note, obviously, with that stupid butt-cartoon. Melanie's gaze shifted to me, and I could tell exactly what she was thinking.
This was all my fau
lt.
The sad thing was, she was right. I winced. "Sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I'm sure she's gonna put me through the ringer."
"Let's hope so," Melanie muttered, and then turned away. Over her shoulder, she called out, "And don't make her wait, alright? I don't need any more trouble."
I let out a long sigh. If Melanie was angry, I had only myself to blame.
Next to me, Robert said, "Don’t feel bad. She called me a ferret-faced weasel."
"Who?" I turned to face him. "Melanie?"
He shook his head. "Not Melanie. The customer." He glanced toward the dining area. "And Melanie's right. You'd best not keep her waiting."
Hurrying now, I put the ginger-ale on a tray and started making my way out there. When the table came into view, I stopped dead in my tracks.
There it was, the table for ten. And there they were, ten customers, including the lady who I owed that apology to.
Well, this was just great.
From what I could see, the rest of the customers were all young women, around Sarah's age, maybe in their late teens or early twenties. Near their chairs, I spotted backpacks and book bags, like they'd just come from class or something.
My gaze zoomed in on the group's leader, the woman I'd be groveling to. As I watched, she gave a tittering laugh and announced to the whole table, "Of course, it's better to learn by other people's mistakes, don't you think?"
I sucked in a breath. My mistakes?
It sure sounded like it.
She went on to say something about field trips and extra credit. I started to wonder, was she their professor or something? And was I today's lesson?
Reluctantly, I started moving again. While my legs carried me forward, my mind churned with uncertainty. Why was I putting myself through this? Even with tips, my income was nothing spectacular.
And what about those so-called advancement opportunities? Did they really exist? Or was that all just a sham? Something to sucker in rubes like me, who were desperate to use their college degrees for something other than low-level service jobs?
I'd just passed my brothers' table when Steve called out, "Oh, Miss! Can we get a couple of Moon Pies over here?"
God, they were such asshats.
"No," I hissed and kept on moving.
"Gee," Steve muttered. "Talk about rude."
Ignoring his comment, I approached the table for ten and delivered Sarah's ginger ale before looking to the group's leader.
With a thin smile, the woman said, "We're so glad you came back." She looked around the table and said, "We were getting worried. Weren't we?"
I scanned the group. None of them looked particularly worried. Even Sarah, who'd been waiting for the ginger ale, looked more confused more than anything.
Determined to play it safe, I managed to say, "I'm sorry that took so long."
"I doubt that," the woman said, getting to her feet. She looked to the rest of the table and announced, "Anyway, this bartender here has something she wants to say." Her lips formed a smirk. "And I wanted you all to witness it."
I swallowed. Witness it?
My stomach was roiling now. Of course, I'd already known that she'd intended to make an idiot of me. But I hadn't expected her to be quite so blatant about it.
Again, I thought of Jake and his offer. If I wanted to, I could quit this place right now, and this whole thing would be over. I could tell the lady to shove it. And then I could run, fast and hard, for the exit.
It was so very tempting.
But that was the old Luna, the one who'd jump at the easy way out, only to regret it later. Who knows? Maybe I would end up quitting. And maybe, I'd be quitting today.
But I wasn't going to do that without knowing for absolute certain that it wasn't merely to avoid something unpleasant. So I stiffened my spine and tried to keep my voice steady as I looked the woman straight in the eye, and said, as sincerely as I could, "I'm really sorry about what happened the other day."
When she made no response, I added, "It was a mistake, and I hope you can forgive me?"
The woman stared at me. "Is that it?"
Was it?
I didn't know what to say. My face was burning with new embarrassment. What did she want? Better words? Me on my knees? A kiss on her ass?
I was willing to apologize, and I wanted to do a decent job of it, but I wasn't willing to beg, if that's what she had in mind.
When I said nothing, the woman looked heavenward and said, "Why don't you tell us what, specifically, you're sorry for."
Us? I glanced toward the table's other occupants, who eyed me with expressions ranging from sympathy to contempt.
The woman's words echoed in my mind. What, specifically, was I sorry for?
Well, right now, I was sorry that I didn't have a club, because I'd very much like to beat her with it.
My gaze shifted toward the exit. From here, I couldn't see the door, but I knew exactly where it was. In thirty seconds, I could be out of here.
I felt my jaw tighten. And let that woman get the best of me?
And then there was the long-term problem. If I messed this up now, and things with Jake didn't work out, what then? My job-history was already shaky, and I was a year past college graduation.
As it stood now, my resume was a mess, and it wouldn’t get any cleaner by screwing this up, too.
I recalled my brothers, sitting a few tables away. Knowing them, they were laughing their asses off. As for me, I felt like crying.
I was being stupid, taking this way too personally. It wasn't like the lady had slapped me or anything.
I paused.
Yet.
Damn it. Suck it up, Luna.
Reluctantly, I tried again. "I'm sorry about that drawing." My voice was shaking. I hated that it was shaking. This wasn't a huge deal. It really wasn't. Trying to rein in my emotions, I continued, softer now, "It was a joke, but it wasn't meant for you."
She pursed her lips. "Oh really? So it was meant for another customer?" Her voice rose. "What kind of place do you run here, anyway?"
I stared at her, unsure what to say. I wasn't running anything. I was just a stupid bartender, thinking I could get my foot in the door of a larger company and, oh, I don't know, actually use my college degree – the one I'd beggared myself to get.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
Thinking of everything – the college loans, my own stupidity, and all of my poor choices, not just since graduating, but for as long as I could remember – I felt the first sting of tears.
With an effort, I blinked them away.
I wasn't going to do this. I wasn't going to cry in front of a low-level bully and her captive audience.
This wasn't a big deal. Really, it wasn't.
I squared my shoulders and tried again. "I am really sorry," I told the woman yet again. "That drawing, well, it was meant for my brothers, who come in here sometimes." As I spoke, I snuck a quick glance in their direction and paused.
They were gone.
On their table, I saw a handful of bills, tucked under one of their drinks, payment for lunch, obviously. But wait, had they even had lunch?
Either way, they were missing a wonderful show.
I stumbled over the rest of my latest apology, and finished by admitting, "I don't know what else you want me to say, but I am really sorry."
God, how many times had I said that? It felt like a million, and I seriously doubted my ability to say it even one more time.
Finally, after a long moment, the woman gave me a thin smile and announced, "I guess that'll do."
My shoulders sagged. With relief? Or defeat? I didn't know, and I didn't want to speculate. Somehow, I managed to say in an embarrassingly weak voice, "Thank you. I'm glad to hear that."
Had I no pride?
Shit. Apparently not.
To my infinite relief, Melanie arrived with a tray full of drinks, giving me the chance to make my escape. Walking on auto-pilot, I trudged back to the bar,
where Robert was waiting.
One look at my face, and he frowned. "That bad, huh?"
"It was fine," I lied. "She accepted my apology, so…" I shrugged, reluctant to continue. For some stupid reason, I still like crying.
God, I was being such an idiot.
He gave me a sympathetic look. "If you want to take a break, I'll cover for you."
I glanced toward the door, wondering if I should say exactly what I wanted to say. I'd done it. I'd apologized. I'd kept my job. So why wasn't I happy?
But I knew why.
And suddenly, I knew what I had to do. In a weird twist of fate, it happened to be exactly what I wanted to do.
How often did that happen?
Chapter 50
After my shift, I returned to Jake's building and entered the lobby like I usually did, from the parking garage. Most of the time, I made a beeline straight for the elevator.
This time, I didn't. Instead, I stopped and stared. I couldn’t help myself.
Standing just inside the lobby's front entrance was a sleek-looking blonde in a tailored business suit. At first glance, she might've been an accountant, or maybe a high-powered attorney of the corporate variety.
Whatever her real profession was, I had no idea, because I knew her by a different name.
Nipple Girl.
And the way it sounded, she was here to see Jake.
She and Pete were facing off just inside the lobby's glass double-doors. From where I stood, I could just barely make out what she was saying.
Her voice was surprisingly cool with a vague upscale accent. "Perhaps I can wait in his office then?"
Whatever Pete said in response, I couldn’t make it out. His back was to me, and his words were too low to hear. Besides, I was so focused on her that I barely noticed anything else.
The last time I'd seen her, she'd been wearing a sequined dress that showed plenty of skin. Her voice had been high and giggly – all baby-doll, zero business.
Even her hair was completely different. At the convention center, it had been big and bouncy with long, flowing curls. Now, it was styled into a simple, elegant twist.
Who was she, anyway?
As I watched, she looked toward a nearby seating area and said, "Surely, you can't object to my waiting there?"
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