The Waiter

  The Waiter

  Bradleigh Collins

  Copyright © 2020 Bradleigh Collins

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, or businesses is coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for use of quotations in a book review.

  bradleighcollins.com

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  About The Author

  To Charity

  for inspiring me to finish this book

  To Dana

  for being there for all of it

  One belongs to New York instantly, one belongs to it as much in five minutes as in five years.

  —Tom Wolfe

  CHAPTER 1

  ◆◆◆

  God, I don’t want to go home.

  It was my first thought when I awoke to the sound of the hotel’s radio alarm clock. “This is 1010WINS. You give us twenty-two minutes, we’ll give you the world.”

  According to the newscast, it was seventy-seven degrees and going up to a high of eighty-eight on this Saturday, the twenty-eighth day of August. And, at the sound of the tone, it would be nine o’clock.

  I rolled over to turn down the volume. Then I grabbed the phone and called my cousin Josh. He answered with a groan.

  “Is it that bad?” I asked.

  “Like you’re not hungover too.”

  Actually, I wasn’t. I had paced myself throughout the previous night’s pub crawl. The evening started with margaritas and Mexican food at Mama Mexico. It ended about five hours later with tequila shots at Bourbon Street.

  “I just need a really big iced coffee and a cinnamon raisin bagel. Meet me at Zabar’s at ten.”

  “Ten-thirty,” he mumbled before hanging up.

  I laid there, thinking about how much I was going to miss the feel of these crisp white sheets. After a few minutes, I climbed out of bed and opened the drapes. The rooftops and water towers dotting the skyline of the Upper West Side looked like disjointed puzzle pieces. I loved waking up to this view of the city every day.

  I wanted to move to New York more than anything, and now was the perfect time to do so. I’d just turned thirty, it was the last year of the nineties, and a new millennium was approaching. I was also recovering from an apocalyptic breakup with someone I’d been dating for almost ten years. Now, more than ever, I needed a new start.

  But first, I would need a new job. That was the primary reason for my trip. Hoping for a transfer, I’d interviewed at the Manhattan headquarters of the advertising firm I worked for in Atlanta. The interview had gone well, and I was cautiously optimistic.

  I took a nice long shower and wrapped myself in the hotel’s comfy bath robe before rifling through my suitcase to find something to wear. I settled on a cute Old Navy denim mini-dress with spaghetti straps. It would be perfect for spending the day in Central Park. A little makeup, a lot of sunscreen, a high ponytail, and I was ready. I left a tip for the hotel maid, grabbed my Coach backpack, and headed out the door.

  The sun was blinding and people scurried past me as I stopped to put on my sunglasses. New Yorkers are always in a hurry to get somewhere, anywhere. I, being a tourist for now, was taking my time and taking it all in.

  The brightness of the day made everything appear in technicolor. Trees along Broadway seemed greener than the ones on Peachtree Street. A gold spire atop the Apthorp gate glistened in the sunlight as though it were winking at me. In the distance, the orange and white Zabar’s sign stood as a beacon, drawing me closer and closer to my morning caffeine fix.

  When I walked in, the scent of fresh baked bread consumed me. I grabbed a shopping basket for bottled waters and Gatorades to take back to my hotel room.

  “My god, it smells like an orgasm feels in here!” Either the other shoppers didn’t hear what Josh said, or they didn’t care because nobody reacted.

  “How’s the hangover?” I said with a hug.

  “Better. I had some Alka-Seltzer earlier and now I’m just starving.”

  We walked up and down the narrow aisles gathering everything we thought we’d need for the day. I found my water and Gatorade while Josh grabbed a bag of Milano cookies and some potato chips. Then we got coffee and cinnamon raisin bagels and headed to the checkout.

  “My friend Darryl thinks you’re hot,” Josh said as we paid for our food. “He has a thing for redheads.”

  “Your friend Darryl is an alcoholic. I thought he was gonna throw up on the sidewalk in front of Jake’s Dilemma last night.”

  “Yeah, he’s a bad drunk.”

  We walked out of Zabar’s and started heading back towards the hotel.

  “Why would you wanna fix me up with a bad drunk? Besides, I’m never dating again.”

  “Don’t worry, I told him he didn’t have a chance. Dalton would kill him.”

  Just hearing his name made me wince.

  “Dalton’s a jackass,” I said with a mouthful of bagel and warm butter dripping down my chin. “I’m not taking him back this time.”

  I wanted to mean it, and I was trying hard to mean it. I’d been keeping a running tally on my FranklinCovey Day Planner of how many days I had gone without speaking to him. It was up to thirty-five.

  “Yeah, right,” Josh said.

  I could understand his skepticism. Dalton and I had broken up and gotten back together about a hundred times over the last decade. It was never a healthy relationship. If you asked any of my friends or family members to describe Dalton in one word, they would all use the same one. Toxic.

  We dropped off the waters and Gatorades in my hotel room. Then we headed east on 77th Street towards the park.

  “I can’t believe you wore those shoes again.” Josh looked down at my feet. “That clip-clop sound makes me insane. Every girl in the city is wearing those freaking shoes.”

  “Don’t talk about my Stevies that way. They’re the most comfortable shoes I own.” They were black Steve Madden platform slides with stretchy fabric across the top. The style went with everything and gave me the extra boost in height that my five-foot-five frame needed.

  We continued walking towards the park while discussing the previous night’s antics. A drunken Josh made his karaoke debut at The Parlour singing Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up.” His performance was a hit, resulting in a rousing respon
se from everyone in the bar and a couple of phone numbers for Josh. I laughed so hard that my abs were still hurting.

  “Jimmy’s nice,” I said. Darryl’s brother Jimmy was a bouncer at The Parlour. “What’s his story?”

  “His story is that Darryl drives him crazy. Why, are you interested in Jimmy?”

  “I’m not interested in anybody.”

  We walked past the Museum of Natural History and crossed over into the park. Throngs of New Yorkers, tourists, and Upper West Side nannies pushing double-wide strollers were all descending upon the great green Mecca of Manhattan.

  As we approached the bottom of the hill, something - or rather someone - caught my eye. Over to the right in the grassy area was an incredibly attractive man doing some type of strange workout. Shirtless. He would drop and do several pushups. Then he would pop back up and do a series of high knee jumps. It was exhausting just watching him. And very erotic. He had dark brown hair with spiky bangs that fell over his forehead. He was wearing a pair of Adidas track pants that hung low on his hips and exposed what I like to call his “Ken doll handles.” But I couldn’t stop staring at his perfect shoulders.

  “Hello, Mr. Deltoids,” I said under my breath as we passed by.

  Josh turned and looked. “I thought you weren’t interested in anybody.”

  “I’m interested in that body.” It was the first time I’d found someone attractive since Dalton and I broke up.

  “Jesus, stop ogling the poor guy, Sam. You’re such a perv.”

  I continued ogling as we turned left onto West Drive. Mr. Deltoids must have sensed me looking. He stopped his workout long enough to look over his sculpted shoulder and smile at me. I couldn’t help but smile back. I also couldn’t help bumping right into Josh because I wasn’t watching where I was going.

  “Really Sam?”

  “Oh god. He just smiled at me.”

  “Go talk to him, doofus.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not? What have you got to lose?”

  “My dignity.”

  “So you’d skip the chance to meet a guy that’s attracted to you because you might embarrass yourself?”

  Josh had a point. What was keeping me from turning around and walking over there and introducing myself? Oh, I remember. It was that number Dalton did on my self-esteem. Yeah, no.

  “I’m flying back to Atlanta tomorrow. Besides, if he looks that good, he must be a jerk.”

  We continued walking along the path, coming into full view of a horde of runners, cyclists and roller-bladers. It was a perennial parade of men. And I was willing to bet that not all of them were emotional sadists like Dalton.

  We made our way onto the Great Lawn. Josh pulled out a blanket from his backpack and laid it down.

  “Are you planning on calling either of those girls from last night?”

  “I can’t remember what they look like.”

  “They were both cute. Especially the blonde. Katie, I think.”

  Josh reached into his backpack and pulled out a napkin.

  “Yeah, Katie.” He handed the napkin to me. There, written in black ink next to the Parlour’s logo, were the digits of a girl that was probably wondering if the cute karaoke guy with the amazing voice was going to call.

  “Call her. See if she wants to meet us out tonight.”

  “I’m not calling her today. It’s too soon. She’ll think I’m a psycho.”

  “Oh god! What is it with you guys and your two-day rule?”

  “Hey, it works.” He made a makeshift pillow with his backpack and laid down.

  “Give me your Time Out New York. I wanna find a place to go for dinner tonight.”

  He pulled the magazine out of his backpack and handed it to me. I began thumbing through page after page of restaurants, clubs, Broadway shows, art galleries, and more. I could live here my entire life and still not have enough time to experience everything this city had to offer.

  Josh was already asleep. His snoring was muted slightly by the ambient sounds of the park. We had plans to meet his friends later tonight at The Bubble Lounge, so we’d decided to do an early dinner. I flipped to the restaurant guide and perused the recommendations for our area. I grabbed a pen from my backpack and circled a few places. Then I laid back on the blanket, looking up at the sky. Under no circumstances could I fall asleep. I was afraid I’d end up snoring, drooling, or contorting myself into a position that exposed my ass.

  We stayed in the park for hours and then we were starving. I showed Josh my potential choices for dinner.

  “Pomodoro is fantastic,” he said. “I’ve been there before.”

  “Are we dressed appropriately?” I gestured to my mini dress and Maddens and his khaki shorts and CBGB shirt.

  “I don’t think they even have a dress code at Pomodoro. Besides, they have outdoor seating, which is great for people watching.”

  “Great for girl watching, you mean.”

  “Girls are people.”

  We packed everything up and headed out. The restaurants and bars lining Columbus Avenue were already buzzing with early diners and drinkers.

  “I have to pee,” I said as we entered the restaurant.

  “Okay, I’ll get us a table outside. What do you want to drink?”

  “Apple martini and a glass of ice water.”

  As I walked to the back, the smell of Italian food made me ravenous. I hadn’t eaten anything since my morning bagel, and I was now looking forward to devouring the breadbasket.

  I freshened up and headed back to the front of the restaurant. I joined Josh, who was already sitting outside drinking a beer and looking at the menu. Just as I sat down, a glorious green apple martini appeared in front of me. I reached for the glass and took a sip.

  “Hey, didn’t I just see you guys in the park this morning?”

  I looked up at our waiter. I saw the dark hair falling across his forehead. It was Mr. Deltoids. Mr. Deltoids was our fucking waiter.

  CHAPTER 2

  ◆◆◆

  The Waiter stood there, smiling at me.

  “Yeah, I remember you,” Josh said. “I told my cousin to stop leering at you this morning.” I could feel my face turning red.

  “Your cousin?”

  “Yeah, my totally single cousin Sammy here.” He emphasized the word “single.” Josh and The Waiter both laughed. I wanted to crawl under the table. I couldn’t bring myself to look at either of them, so I buried my face in the menu.

  “I’m just gonna climb over the railing here and step in front of a bus,” I said without looking up.

  “Please don’t,” The Waiter said. “I’ll be right back with some bread and I’ll tell you guys about our specials.” He walked away. I glared at Josh, who was sitting across the table from me grinning like a Happy Buddha statue.

  “What?” Josh asked, “This is fucking fantastic!”

  “I am mortified.”

  “Why? He obviously likes you. Every guy likes you. Come on. You’re hot and you know it.”

  “That is so not true. And he’s our waiter. It’s his job to be nice to us. Which makes this even more humiliating.”

  I really had no idea if he was flirting with me in particular or if he was this friendly because it resulted in big tips. And even if he was flirting with me, I was leaving tomorrow. And even if I weren’t leaving tomorrow, I was still gun-shy about getting back into the dating world. The pain from my breakup with Dalton was too fresh. I gulped my martini. I was going to need some liquid courage to get me through this dinner.

  And then it appeared. The breadbasket I’d been craving. Only now, my stomach was filled with butterflies and alcohol.

  “So Sammy,” The Waiter said, “That’s kind of a guy’s name, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” I summoned enough courage to look up and make eye contact with him. He was even better looking up close. He had beautiful brown eyes, sexy full lips and cheekbones that were made for precision glass cutting.

  “Is that short
for Samantha?”

  “No. Just Sammy. It was my grandfather’s name. Well, his name was Samuel, but everybody called him Sammy.”

  “You spell it with an ‘i’?”

  “Nope. With a ‘y’ like a guy.”

  “Interesting.” His smile lingered a bit, causing me to wonder if Josh was right. Maybe he was flirting with me. Or maybe I have something in my teeth.

  “So, here’s what we’ve got going on menu-wise tonight.”

  As he rattled off the specials, all I could think about was how I felt like Drew Barrymore’s character in Never Been Kissed, a movie that my best friend Dana and I had been to see a few months ago. I felt like a total geek. I had been with Dalton for so long that I had no clue how to date, or flirt, or even know if someone was flirting with me. I had zero game.

  “I’ll give you guys a few minutes to decide,” The Waiter said as he walked away.

  “Sam, you should see if he wants to meet us out tonight,” Josh said mockingly, looking down at his menu.

  “God no! And I swear, if you ask him or embarrass me any further, I will call that girl Katie from last night and tell her to meet us out too. I still have the napkin.”

  “Touché.”

  I studied the menu, then glanced over to see The Waiter laughing with the bartender as he loaded a tray of drinks for another table. I looked around the restaurant. All the waiters and waitresses were wearing the same thing. Black pants with a white button-down shirt. I’d seen my waiter without the shirt. My face felt flush again. And just like that, he was back.

  “Have you guys decided?”

  Josh ordered first. Spaghetti and meatballs.

  The Waiter turned to me. “How about you, Red?”

  “I’ll have the fettuccine with basil.”

  “Excellent choice. It’s my favorite dish.” He winked and disappeared.

  “I think you’re his favorite dish,” Josh mumbled.

  “Stop.”

  “Dude, he’s totally flirting with you.”