5
Emma
The crowd finally thinned out and became more manageable around one a.m. My knees hurt from walking, my arms hurt from lifting trays, my face hurt from fake-smiling at the customers, and my brain was exhausted. At least I’d been bright enough to wear proper shoes. That’s the first rule of waitressing, learned long ago at home in Connecticut: buy the best shoes you can afford or pay the price in blisters. But my feet were just about the only part of my body that didn’t ache. After being unemployed during the spring semester, I was out of practice.
I stole away for a quick bathroom break and was returning to check on table two when one of the drunks—a guy Ward had cut off half an hour ago—decided it would be a great idea to turn around pinch my ass. Hard.
I squealed in surprise, loudly enough to cause everyone to stop what they were doing and stare.
“What the—” managed to slip out before I got ahold of myself. I’d learned from hard won experience that it was generally best to de-escalate these situations. Exploding only makes things worse, even if it’s more satisfying in the moment.
“Hey Angel,” the fifty-something, balding cretin slurred, “when does your shift end?” He smelled like a drunk ashtray.
Not being able to slap drunk and stupid people was my absolute least favorite thing about working in hospitality. I’m generally not a violent person, but I’d be willing to make an exception at the moment. I rubbed my rear-end, embarrassed and sullen. The creep really got a big old handful of my ass.
“Whoa there,” I said in lieu of something vile. I was using my drunk-people voice: loud, clear, and unambiguous. “I’m not interested in you. You need to keep your hands to yourself. Do. Not. Touch. Me. Got it?”
“But darlin’” he whined, reaching out to try and grab at… something. Hopefully my hand, but he wasn’t even going to get that. I twisted away and danced out of his range, getting angrier by the second. Now that he no longer had the element of surprise, he wouldn’t be touching me again. I’m not athletic in any traditional sense, but I’m quick enough when I need to be. More than quick enough to avoid drunk guys with wandering hands.
“—but nothing, Carl.” Ward appeared out of nowhere at my side. If I thought I was angry, Ward looked livid. Murderous, actually. The man hadn’t even been in the room ten seconds before. He was really, really fast. Especially for such a big guy. Ward loomed over the drunk. “She’s not your darlin’. You heard the lady. No touching. Being drunk is ok but getting handsy is not. Period.” His voice was sharp.
Carl looked up at Ward, swaying slightly on his barstool and looking extremely put out. He was pouting and petulant, which was never a good look on a grown man.
“I’m gonna need you to tell me you understand the rules, Carl. And I need you to apologize to Emma,” Ward told him, not giving Carl any time to complain. Willie ambled up from around the bar to provide backup. Everyone in the room was now watching our exchange with interest. You could have heard a pin drop. I shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. Having so many pairs of eyes on me made me feel lightheaded. I could feel myself blushing.
“Er, yeah whatever,” Carl grumbled. He tried to turn around. He must be feeling the pressure of being centerstage too.
I shrugged and was ready to let the matter drop, but evidently Ward was not. He still looked majorly pissed. He set a heavy-looking hand on the guy’s shoulder and spun him back around to face us.
“Not good enough, Carl.” His voice dropped an octave, dipping dangerously into the growly-range. I was stunned and dumbstruck.
Carl rocked on his barstool, but his long-suffering sigh cut off in a little hiss when he saw Ward’s expression. Ward’s anger had begun to permeate the thick membrane of Carl’s drunkenness (or perhaps just his thick skull). His sense of self-preservation kicked in and the blood drained out of his big, pink face.
“Now Carl. This is your last chance.” Ward had Carl by the shoulders. He gave him a good shake and then aimed him my direction. He had lifted the smaller man up off the barstool, literally dragging him about like a ragdoll.
“I’m so sorry, Miss,” Carl said instantly, not meeting my eyes. “I shouldn’t’ve touched you. It was very out of line and won’t ever happen again.” The words rushed out of him like Ward was chasing them.
“As long as it doesn’t happen again, I accept your apology,” I said stiffly. I turned to go back to work, just wanting to forget the whole thing. Ward, however wasn’t finished. He let go of Carl, who instantly fell down to the ground with a loud thump.
“You’re going home now,” he told Carl. “And I don’t mean that you’re driving yourself there. I don’t need that on my conscience. Willie’s going to call someone right now to come get you. And don’t show your face around here again unless you can behave yourself and show my bar and everyone in it, some respect.”
The man seemed to fold into himself, shrinking away from Ward’s anger and into the ground. For his part, Ward stared around at the shocked faces of his customers as if daring them to step out of line or question him. No one did. Ward yanked Carl back up and then stood next to him while he paid his bill and then walked with him outside, presumably to wait. I skunk away from action, shocked at Ward’s reaction.
Never in my many years waitressing had anyone stood up for me like that. Ever. Even ‘good’ managers in the restaurant business don’t go out of their way to confront bad customers, when they were even around, that is. Ward hadn’t just stood up for me, either. He’d thrown the guy out and announced to the entire bar that no one was allowed to treat me poorly. In a perfect world that would be a given, but in the real world? The world where Carl had learned it was ok to behave that way and then had thirty years to practice his waitress-ass-pinching skills? It meant a lot to me.
About five minutes later, Ward intercepted me on my way to grab more glasses and set a gentle hand on my forearm. I froze at the physical contact, suddenly paralyzed. He touched me. For the second time tonight (not that I was counting). My heart beat surged as my body betrayed me. I might rationally know that he was an egotistical philanderer, but my body just wanted him. All of him.
“Are you ok?” he asked, looking surprisingly concerned. He was close enough I could smell his cologne. The rational side of my brain turned off when the alchemy of his smell, woodsy, clean, and masculine, hit my senses.
No, I’m not alright. Kiss me. Right now. Make me feel all better.
I didn’t say it, but I thought it, against my much better judgement. It was all I could do not to stare at him openmouthed.
His eyes, so strikingly bright blue against his dark hair, transfixed me. He shouldn’t be allowed to have such beautiful eyes. On top of everything else, it was just unfair. I shook my head to clear it.
“Sure,” I finally stuttered. I’m not sure why, but I felt strangely like I needed to reassure him all of a sudden. He looked so worried about me. The change in his demeanor was shocking. “Grabby drunks come with the territory, right?” I patted his hand.
“Not in my territory, no they don’t.” He clearly didn’t appreciate that someone had touched me. Or more likely, he didn’t appreciate that someone misbehaved in his domain. “I’m sorry this happened on your first day.”
“Well don’t worry about me, I’m just fine,” I told him, shaking my head again, and slinking out from under his arm. I gave him my practiced customer-service smile. “I’ve got lots of practice with drunk creeps trying to grab my ass.”
My answer didn’t seem to please him. If anything, he looked unhappier. “Just let me know if it happens again and I’m not around. I’ll take care of it. Willie and Kate will look out for you too.”
I nodded. “Ok, I… thanks.” There were plenty of places that didn’t really care if the drunks touched the staff so long as they paid their tabs. This place might have some drawbacks, but this attitude about sexual harassment was a serious recommendation. I reached out and touched his arm back, earning me a wide-eyed look. “I
really appreciate that.”
Ward’s sandy-haired, lanky friend chose that moment to chime in. “Hey Ward, if you really wanted to keep the patron’s hands off your staff, you should probably change your hiring practices.” His voice was too loud. He was obviously inebriated at this point.
Ward made a dismissive gesture with his hands, but I must have looked confused and weirded out because the guy clarified his statement. “I heard what Kate said earlier,” he added, looking at me square in the eye. “You wanted someone that was… what was it again, Ward?”
“Lucas, cut it out,” Ward tried, but his buddy clearly thought I ought to hear this.
“Oh right. Wasn’t it organized, hard-working, and hot? I definitely know that hot was in there somewhere. Sounded like an advertisement for a wife, not a waitress!” He laughed.
I blinked. The tips of Ward’s ears were pink, either in embarrassment or annoyance. Otherwise he didn’t react except to give his friend a ‘seriously bro?’ type of look. The guy shrugged and chuckled.
“Is that true?” I asked Ward, instantly on edge. It was probably true, given Ward’s obvious irritation. “You think you can insist that your employees be physically attractive enough to be in your presence?” What a pig. At the same time, a tiny voice in me wondered whether Ward still thought I was hot. Had I passed his attractiveness litmus test? I had once. The tiny voice was hopeful. I squashed it.
Ward rolled his eyes at my question. He laughed. “Hell yes. Haven’t you seen Willie? People come in just to bask in his glory.” His sarcasm was not an answer, even though I felt a smile tugging at my lips when Ward jerked his thumb in the older man’s direction.
“Well that’s just sexual harassment right there,” Willie joked, patting his ‘curves’. “You’re creating a hostile work environment for me. I shouldn’t have to be objectified for your base, animal pleasures.” He put one hand on his hips and pretended to flip his non-existent hair dramatically. I couldn’t help my giggle.
“If anyone pinches your ass, Willie, you let me know,” I told him seriously. I winked. “I’ll take care of it right away. Hot commodities like us have to stick together.”
6
Emma
I went home, crashed instantly, slept like the dead, got up at noon, and knew I had to repeat yesterday’s long, grueling schedule all over again. My shower felt positively transcendental, despite the fact that my roommate Lily had obviously used my shower pouf and conditioner again. Ugh. I loved Lily, but I was an only child and didn’t like to share. One of these days I was going to make enough money to live alone, and then my coconut lime conditioner would be mine all mine. One day.
The Lone Star Lounge was more of a coffee house during the days, complete with an extensive selection of coffee drinks and all the laptop loners they attracted. The rooms were full of quiet people poking away at their computers, and a few study groups discussing things in low voices. The place had a totally different vibe during the day, and it looked like it was a popular destination for remote workers. Luckily for me, I was actually here early for a staff meeting, not to work.
Kate, Willie, Ward, and I were supposed to be discussing the private party that was going to take place this afternoon, but they were nowhere to be found. I circulated through the old converted house looking for them, but they must all be running late. Frustrated that I was the only one to show up on time, I circled back to the office and pushed the door wide open.
Ward, who was in the midst of changing, stared at me in shirtless surprise. I froze like a deer in the headlights.
Oh. My. God.
The man looked like he belonged in one of those black-and-white underwear ads on a billboard, or better yet, sculpted out of marble in a museum where he could be appreciated for centuries. I’d never seen anything remotely like him in person, except for that one night. Every inch of his fair skin was smooth and stretched over long, lean muscles. If I were asked to come up with an ideal male body, I wouldn’t have even dreamed up Ward. He was beyond my memories. And I have very a good, incredibly specific, extremely detailed memory.
My body reacted to his forcefully, tugging me forward an involuntary two steps into the room and making my heart flutter.
“Hi.” I’m not sure why I said it, probably just to fill the silence. It came out in a breathy whisper.
“Hello Emma.” His voice was low and obviously amused. “How are you?”
The question echoed in my brain, but I couldn’t come up with a response. We stared at one another for a long, extremely charged moment. I could almost smell the pheromones in the air, and arousal made my limbs and eyelids feel heavy and sluggish. In the silent office, I could almost pretend like we were alone. My eyes dipped to his belt buckle when his eyes became too much. Staring there probably wasn’t any better.
“Earth to Emma? Um… See something you like?” Ward finally asked me, reaching toward me. I backtracked out of his reach like a frightened animal, cringing when I realized he was just grabbing a button down off the back of his chair. He shrugged it on and grinned. He knew precisely what he’d done to me. And I was speechless again. I backed out of the office without another word. His laughter rang in my ears as I ran away to wait at the bar until my heart stopped pounding.
It was not my finest moment. I was daydreaming on a barstool and staring into space when Kate found me fifteen minutes later. In my fantasy, Ward reached for me instead of his stupid shirt. We stole away into the alleyway behind the bar and got properly reacquainted right there against the wall.
“There you are,” she said cheerfully. Her appearance snapped me out of my reluctant, but extraordinarily graphic fantasy about Ward. I smiled at her in embarrassment.
“Hi Kate.” I was just thinking about fucking your brother’s brains out in the alley behind the bar. I could only imagine I was blushing like I had a third-degree sunburn.
“You came back!” She sounded somewhat surprised.
“Of course, I came back.” My bank account has four hundred dollars in it. Even if your brother wasn’t surface-of-the-sun hot, I’d be here.
“And right on time as always, unlike me. Come on, we’re meeting outside on the patio. That’s where the party is going to be.”
Yay, a party. I wanted nothing more to run away, but it wasn’t an option.
I followed along behind her, feeling numb and totally mortified. Ward and Willie were waiting outside, and I avoided Ward’s eyes like they might turn me to stone. Kate started rolling napkins on a table and I joined her. It was easier not to look at Ward if I was staring at forks instead. Thankfully, he didn’t decide to tease me in front of the others. Instead, he launched straight into business.
“Ok, so the College of Liberal Arts rented out the space this evening,” he explained. My ears perked up. “They’ve got some kind of reception tonight for the English Literature department faculty. They’re welcoming a new professor or something.”
I dropped the fork I was holding, causing it to bounce noisily on the stone pavers. Ward looked at me in suspicion, but I dove under the table to get the fork to avoid him seeing my face. All the English professors were going to be here tonight? Shit.
“Oh, sorry Emma. That’s your department, isn’t it?” Kate asked me, filling the silence as I scrambled under the table to recapture the fork. I nodded on my way back up. “So, I guess you know them all, huh?”
“Yeah. This should be interesting.” My voice probably betrayed my concern, because Kate looked at me with worry.
Oh god. Adam would be here. I’d read the email about the new faculty member just like every other grad student, but I didn’t think I’d be seeing him anytime soon.
“Anyway,” Ward continued before his sister could ask me any follow up questions, “they’re going to be here from three to seven. It’s a long-ass party, and we’re serving champagne and doing an open bar for the whole thing. They’re bringing in some food as well, specifically a couple of appetizers and a cake. It should be a fairly tame aff
air. Apparently, they’re doing a poetry reading for part of the time or some shit. Some new professor? I didn’t really read the contract that closely.”
Poetry reading or some shit? Typical.
“Sounds exciting,” Kate said. Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. “No offense Emma,” she added a moment later. She at least had the graciousness to look embarrassed.
I shrugged. I was fairly used to people being less enthusiastic about poetry than me. Ninety-nine percent of the world seemed to think that poetry was dumb. Which was probably why it didn’t pay as well as waitressing.
“Do you know who’s reading at the party?” I asked in spite of myself. Even as a graduate student, there was no way I’d be invited to a faculty-only party if I wasn’t serving champagne, and I had a bad feeling I knew exactly who was going to be reading. A certain professor who was new to the University, having just transferred here as a tenure-track prospect from my Alma Mater. Someone who very nearly became Poet Laureate yesterday. Someone the other professors probably wanted to welcome onboard. Christ, what were the chances? This could only happen to me.
Ward shook his head at my question. “No. I don’t. Hopefully it isn’t too boring. I hate poetry.” He didn’t apologize for his opinion.
If I wasn’t so shocked and nervous, I could have smirked at that. People always think they know what poetry is, and most of the time they’re wrong. Good poetry is never boring. Adam’s work was a lot of things—not all of them positive—but boring wasn’t one of them. Unfortunately, the thought of being in the same room with Adam again made me feel slightly ill. I couldn’t even manage a snappy comeback.
“Are you ok, Emma?” Willie looked genuinely concerned. “You look kind of pale all of a sudden.”
I really wanted to say that I didn’t feel well and beg off, but today was my second day. I couldn’t afford a sick day. If I didn’t earn my rent money this month, I’d be couch surfing and living off ramen by next month.
Admit You Want Me Page 4