“Thanks,” I said. “I made Zeb a yellow cake with buttercream frosting.”
“You might just be the perfect woman,” Aidan said with a smile.
“None of that,” I warned.
“None of what?”
“Flirting. We had a deal.”
“We had no such deal. You said no flirting. I said nothing about flirting.”
The bartender finally came to our aid and Aidan asked me, “What do you want to drink?”
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
“Sibby. Drink,” Aidan said.
I sighed. “Beer please, but nothing hoppy. I don’t do IPAs.”
“Two Blue Moons, please,” Aidan said to the bartender. He turned his attention back to me. “Why are you so resistant to my charms?”
“You don’t have charms,” I stated.
“Yeah, right. You think I’m charming. Admit it.”
“Never.”
“Caleb still talks about Annie.”
“Good for Caleb.”
“Why doesn’t she want to get involved with guys…aside from the biblical involvement?”
“That’s not really any of your business,” I said.
He shrugged, letting it go. “Wanna play Asteroids?”
“No, thanks.”
“Natalie!” Aidan called, taking his beer and strolling towards our group. “Game of Asteroids?”
“Sure!” Natalie said, hopping up from her stool like an eager puppy at the promise of a dog treat. Maybe tonight would be the night she made a move on Aidan.
I was instantly jealous, which was stupid, because I didn’t want Aidan. I didn’t want him flirting with me, or smiling at me, or buying me beer.
I smacked my forehead. In public.
“You okay?” Zeb asked, not moving out of Kirk’s arm. I wondered how much Zeb had had to drink since it looked like he and Kirk were headed to Make-Out Central.
“Fine.”
I turned my head and caught Natalie tossing her long, black, hot Asian hair over her shoulder and laughing at something Aidan was saying. He leaned forward, looking conspiratorial. Conspiratorial and sexy.
Screw this, time to get wasted.
“I’m drunk,” I muttered.
“Yeah, but you’re a fun drunk,” Zeb said as he took my hand and led me to the dance floor.
“No, I don’t dance,” I stated, trying to tug my arm free from his grasp.
“Come on, it’s my birthday!”
“So what? That won’t change the fact that I look like a drunk octopus when I dance.”
“Show me!”
“No!”
“It will be your birthday gift to me.”
“I already made you a cake!”
“Please?” he begged. “Please, please, please?”
“Fine.” I stood in the center of the dance floor, planted my feet, and then swung my arms back and forth like limp noodles. Zeb cracked up and I grinned.
“You’re right, you do look like a drunk octopus.”
“I think you’re an awesome dancer,” Tracksuit said.
“You just want in her pants,” Zeb shot back.
Tracksuit shrugged and nodded.
“Don’t fall for it,” Zeb stage whispered to me. “He’s a flirt.”
“Aren’t all bartenders?”
“Not all…” he said, with a look at Kirk.
We continued to ‘dance’ until Zeb broke off to make out with Kirk. I turned my back on Natalie and Aidan flirting, clutching my near empty beer glass and continuing to dance. I was probably making a fool of myself, but I didn’t really care. My head was spinning and I suddenly wanted to be home and in bed. I stumbled towards the exit.
“Sibby, wait! I’ll help you,” Aidan called.
“I’m fine.” I gulped in a breath of fresh air when I hit the sidewalk.
“You almost left your purse.” He stood next to me, holding out my bag.
“Thanks,” I said, and tripped over my own two feet as I reached for it.
“Come on,” he said, raising his arm to flag down a cab. One stopped immediately and he opened the door for me. I climbed inside and he settled next to me.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
“Making sure you get home okay,” he said.
“Chivalrous. Thought all men like you were gone.”
“Where are we going?”
I gave the cabbie my address and leaned back and closed my eyes before immediately opening them. “You’re not the kind of guy to just show up at your ex girlfriend’s apartment, are you?” I demanded.
“I need more information before I answer that.”
I didn’t smile at his teasing tone. “Matt showed up, slept in the hallway waiting for me to get home,” I mumbled.
“Why?” Aidan wondered.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I think he wanted to talk about the guy he cheated on me with, and I so don’t need to hear about that. Really. I always thought I was a smart girl, ya know? Choose a good guy and get a decent job. Turns out both ideas were crap. Great. Now I’m playing the victim card. The drunk victim card, no less.”
The cab came to a stop and before I could find my credit card to pay, Aidan was handing over a few bills. “Chivalrous,” I repeated. “Wanna come up?”
“Duh.” Aidan helped me out of the car.
“Not for that,” I warned. “I’m not a drunk-hookup kind of girl, but if I were, it would definitely be with you.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“I just really don’t—do you want to come up still?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, I do.”
We climbed the stairs and when we got to the fourth floor, I stopped abruptly causing Aidan to bump into me. Matt was sitting on the floor, doing something on his phone, waiting for me.
Again.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I demanded.
“Are you drunk?” Matt scrambled up from his place on the floor.
“It’s a strong possibility.”
Matt’s eyes slid to the man behind me. “Who are you?”
Before Aidan could reply, my drunken mouth ran away from me and blurted, “Your replacement.”
God bless Aidan, he didn’t pause when he moved to my side and wrapped an arm around me in a protective gesture.
“What? You can hook up with a guy, but I can’t?” I asked.
“Will you just freakin’ talk to me?” Matt begged. “I didn’t mean for it to end the way it did.”
“You’ve been haunting my hallway to say something that generic? I can’t believe I wasted two years on you. Come on, Aidan, lets go inside and have hot monkey sex. And do that thing with your hips that I really like.”
“You got it, babe.” Aidan smirked.
I had the pleasure of watching Matt’s face pale. He moved out of the way while I got my keys out of my bag. “Sibby,” he began.
“It’s fine, Matt. It’s all fine, okay? We’re so good. You have Taylor and I have Aidan. Take care of yourself.”
“Please,” Matt pleaded. “Can we have coffee? I really want to explain.”
“You don’t have to. I know what I walked in on.” I glowered. “The image is blurred into my brain.”
Matt blinked. “I think you mean ‘burned’.”
“What the fuck ever,” I scoffed. “Seriously. Don’t keep loitering in the hallway.”
“Then promise me coffee. Not now, or tomorrow, but sometime in the future.”
“Fine. I’ll call you.”
Matt held my gaze a long moment and then nodded. He glanced at Aidan and said softly, “Take care of her,” before heading down the stairs.
“Are you really going to have coffee with him?”
I sighed, unlocking the front door. “I don’t know. I just wanted him to leave.”
“He doesn’t look like how I thought he’d look,” Aidan said, taking a seat at the kitchen table. I opened the fridge and pulled out the covered mixing bowl o
f leftover frosting and set it down in front of him.
I frowned. “How did you think he’d look?”
“I don’t know. I pictured you with a really huge guy with no neck.”
“Very specific,” I said with a grin.
He paused. “You okay?”
I blew out a breath of air, stirring my bangs. “Yeah, think so.”
“He seemed to care about you,” Aidan pointed out.
“I hope you’re wrong about that. Because if he is concerned, it makes him more human and less douchebag.”
He laughed. “I really like you, Sibby.”
I inhaled a shaky break. “I like you, too, Aidan. You’re a good spooner. Did you know that?”
“I’ve been told.”
“I know it’s not the same, you know, sleeping in bed with a girl and not getting any action, but—I’m just drunk and vulnerable enough to ask—will you spoon me tonight?” I looked at him.
“Depends,” he said slowly.
“On?”
He grinned. “Can I have the rest of that frosting?”
“Fine, but no inappropriate sexual frosting comments, okay?”
“Do I look like the kind of guy that would make inappropriate frosting comments?”
“Yes.”
He sighed. “You already know me so well.”
Chapter 7
Biscotti [bee-skoh-tee]
1. Small, crisp rectangular, twice-baked cookie, typically containing nuts. Made originally in Italy.
2. Hard, flavorless cookie that someone left in the oven too long and thought, “I wonder if I can still sell this?”
I sat up in bed, wincing at the soft daylight coming in through the curtains. I looked over at Aidan, whose eyes were sleepy but open. They watched me, unnerved me, and I struggled to find something witty to say.
“We have to stop spooning like this,” I blurted out.
His smile was better than the sun coming out from behind the clouds on a cold winter day.
“I know you can do better than that.”
I shook my head, fighting a smile. “I feel like my brain is just sitting in a vat of hops, slushing around in there. I’ve had more to drink in the last few weeks than I’ve had in the last two years.”
Aidan ran a hand through his dark bed head. “Industry people drink and party. At least no one at Antonio’s does coke. I worked at a club once—”
“Wouldn’t it just be easier to stick my liver in a bottle of tequila and call it a day? I don’t think I’m cut out for it. This is a sure fire way never to find my direction and lose brain cells in the process.”
“You’re chattering like a monkey. You okay?”
“Nervous,” I admitted. “Nervous and hung over.”
“Greasy diner food is a known cure for both.”
“You ever been to Peter Pan?”
“Huh?” Aidan asked.
“It’s a bakery.”
“Oh. No, I haven’t.”
“We have to change this. Pants. Immediately.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
I headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth when Aidan popped his head in.
“Can I get a little of that?” he asked, holding out his pointer finger. I doused it with toothpaste and we brushed in silence. My nerves were straightening out. I handed him a towel to dry his face and he took it with a grin.
When we were headed to Peter Pan, Aidan asked, “So, was this morning easier to handle than last time?”
“Easier? Maybe.”
He laughed. “You can spoon me anytime you want.”
“I didn’t spoon you, you spooned me, remember?”
“Oh, I remember.”
I made an embarrassed noise in the back of my throat as I pulled open the bright green door of the bakery. There was a line for take out orders, but there were two vacant stools at the counter for dining in.
“You have to be quick,” I said, dodging to the counter. We plopped down and I watched Aidan take it all in, from the smell of fried dough to the Polish waitresses in classic turquoise waitress uniforms. This place looked like it had been frozen in 1955.
A young pixieish waitress approached us and set down two paper napkins. Aidan looked at me. “What should I get?”
I smiled. “I got this. Two coffees please, and two bacon, egg, and cheese on everything bagels.”
“Toasted?” the waitress asked in a thick Polish accent.
“Yes, please, and also one Bavarian cream éclair and one red velvet donut.” The waitress left in a blur.
“That was some ordering,” Aidan said.
“Just wait. Do you want orange juice?” I asked, hopping up off the stool and heading to the small glass refrigerator in the corner.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
I handed him the OJ and he stuck his straw into it and took a sip. “God, what is it about OJ when you’re hungover?”
“Nutrient deficiency and dehydration,” I answered.
The waitress set down our coffees, donut, and éclair and then went to deal with more customers. I watched Aidan take a bite of the éclair, licking the Bavarian cream from his top lip.
“Holy shit,” he said.
“Your life will never be the same again,” I muttered, no longer thinking about my hangover or the donuts.
He grinned, his dark hair messy, crumbs falling onto his shirt. “No, I don’t think it will be.”
“Thanks for breakfast,” Aidan said as we stood on the street.
“Thanks for making sure I got home okay last night.”
“You going to thank me for staying, too? And for using me as your teddy bear?” he prodded.
“I will not. That would make it sound like I needed you—and I don’t need you.”
He grinned. “Okay, Prickly Pear.”
“Don’t call me that.”
He laughed. “Admit it. You like hanging out with me.”
“I will admit no such thing.”
“I’m so gonna wear you down.”
“Bye, Aidan,” I said, giving him a little push towards the subway.
“Bye, Sibby.”
I watched him walk away, wondering why I enjoyed the way his hair flopped in the breeze. I took out my phone and called Annie.
“Hello?” she said.
“I absolutely refuse to have feelings for Aidan.”
She paused. “What did you do?”
I told her about my night.
“That’s not that bad,” she said when I was finished.
“It’s not that good, either,” I said.
“So, stay away from him.”
“I’m trying,” I said weakly. “But I do work with the guy.”
She snorted with laughter.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Talking you off a ledge, obviously.”
“You wanna hang out?”
“Can’t. Some of us have to work during the day.”
“I’m pretty sure you just called me lazy. And a vampire. A lazy vampire.”
“Vampires are overrated.”
I stood in line at the coffee shop and it took all of my will power not to laugh when I heard the hipster girl in front of me order a free trade, half-caff, sugar-free hazelnut, no foam, skim latte. When Hipster Girl reached for her concoction, she chirped out a thanks and didn’t bother leaving a tip.
“What can I get you?” asked the harassed barista as I stepped up to the counter.
“Just a plain old black coffee,” I said.
“I love you,” the barista muttered. I paid for my coffee and dropped a few bucks in the tip jar. I didn’t want to worry about my karma.
Winding my way through the coffee shop, I parked it across the table from Zeb. We were a block away from work and had an hour to kill. I hadn’t seen him since his birthday a few days before, and when he texted asking if I wanted to grab a cup of coffee, I said yes. It was nice feeling like I was making some real friends. Hanging outside of work with work people was a change from
the office gig, where everyone kept to themselves, didn’t talk about personal stuff and went home to their tiny apartments and unhappy marriages.
“So are you going to tell me about you and Kirk?”
He grinned. “We ate the rest of the cake you made for breakfast.”
“Glad it went over well,” I teased. “The cake, I mean.”
“Kirk doesn’t say a lot, and I’m starting to think that might be a necessary quality in future boyfriends. Or at least future hook up buddies.”
We laughed.
“So, sleeping with someone you work with…you’re not worried about people knowing?”
He shrugged. “I mean, maybe, but there’s an end in sight to working at Antonio’s. I finally declared a major.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I can’t be a perpetual student.”
“What’s your major?”
“Communications.”
Communications. Also known as, ‘undecided about life’.
“Wow,” I said. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“So…Kirk?”
“Not the kind of guy to make it weird.”
“Because he doesn’t talk a lot.”
“Exactly.”
“Will there be a repeat performance?” I asked.
“There already has been,” Zeb said, waggling his eyebrows. “It’s hard to date when you work in a restaurant. Our hours are whacked; the only other people who work similar hours are our fellow co-workers, or strippers.”
“Don’t date a stripper.”
“Been there, done that. It wasn’t pretty.”
“Wow, you’ve lived so much,” I said.
“Girl…” He shook his head. “So, did you go home with Aidan?”
I choked on my coffee and a bit of it went right up my nose. “What? No. He put me in a cab and then went home.”
He studied me for a moment. “Okay.”
“Okay? What do you mean, okay?”
“I mean, okay. Just for the record—you can’t keep secrets in a restaurant. You hook up with someone, everyone knows. And I mean everyone from the dishwasher to the absent owner.”
“Why? How?”
“Restaurant life bleeds over into real life. Waiting tables is like war. Your co-workers are there with you in the trenches, you get close.”
Tales of a New York Waitress Page 6