The Waiter

by Bradleigh Collins

  “Fuck!”

  “What’s the matter?” Dana asked.

  “Look who’s here.” I motioned towards the door.

  “What the hell is he doing here?” she asked as he walked over to us. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I’ve missed you too, Dana,” Dalton said. He and Simon exchanged their usual “hey man, how’s it going” greeting. “I need to talk to Sam.”

  Dana looked at me. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “We’ll give you guys a minute. I’ll be right over there.” She pointed to an area by the dance floor where Sean and Deb were chatting.

  I took a sip of my martini.

  “How many of those have you had?”

  “Not enough to make me forget you’re an asshole.”

  “I know I’m an asshole. I’m trying not to be.”

  The female bartender smiled at Dalton. “Whatcha drinking gorgeous?”

  “Scotch.”

  “Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be watching a movie with Rhonda or something?”

  “Sam, I’m sorry. I don’t know how many times I have to say it.” He grabbed my hand and held it. “I miss you, babe.”

  I missed him too, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. I just stood there, sipping my cocktail, holding his hand.

  The bar was getting crowded. Dana and Simon and Deb and Sean were out on the dance floor. A table opened up right next to us and Dalton quickly grabbed it. He sat down and pulled me onto his lap. I could feel Dana looking at me from the dance floor. I looked up just as she mouthed the words “What the fuck?” I shrugged and threw my hands up in the air. She shook her head.

  “So, are you gonna give me another chance or what?”

  “I’m speaking to you, Dalton. That’s the best I can do right now.”

  “And you’re sitting on my lap.”

  “Only because my feet are hurting.”

  Dana and Simon were back.

  “I’m gonna take your drunk friend home now,” Simon said.

  Dana leaned down and hugged me. “Do you want us to take you home?”

  “No, I’m okay,” I said. “We’re just talking.”

  Dana got in Dalton’s face. “Don’t be a dick,” she said, poking him in the chest with each syllable. “Don’t. Be. A. Dick.”

  He laughed. “Goodnight, Dana.”

  “Love you, Sam. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  They left, with Dana taking one last chance to turn around and point her finger at Dalton before walking out the door.

  “You never answered my question,” I said to him. “Why are you here?”

  “It’s Friday night. I saw Dana’s car at Murder Kroger. I figured you guys would be here.”

  “You figured I’d be drunk.”

  “I figured correctly. Why are you so drunk?”

  “Because Bitchy Brenda sabotaged my dream job in New York.”

  “You interviewed for a job in New York?”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t get it. So Deb and Dana took me out to make me feel better.”

  “Do you feel better?”

  Just then I saw Blondie making her way through the crowd. I jumped up. “I’m gonna get you a Blondie lap dance! She can crush your head between her boobs. That will definitely make me feel better.” I started to walk over to her. Dalton stood up and pulled me back.

  “You are not getting me a lap dance.”

  I made a square around his face with my index fingers. “You know what this is? This is you not being fun.” He laughed. Then I yelled out for Blondie.

  “Okay, time to go.” He picked me up and slung me over his shoulder and started carrying me through the bar.

  Deb and Sean were still on the dance floor. “Deb, I’m taking her home!”

  “Sam, call me tomorrow!” I wanted to wave at her, but I was using both hands to hold my little black dress down so I wasn’t flashing anyone my thong. Not that anyone there would have cared or even noticed.

  “Later man,” I heard Dalton say to Dave as we left.

  “Bye, Dave,” I said. I could see his shoes but not his face. Everybody knew Dave and Dave knew everybody. If anyone but Dalton was hauling my drunk ass out of the Clermont over their shoulder, Dave would have stopped them in their tracks.

  “Put me down, Dalton! I’m still mad at you.” He was carrying me up the hill to the street where his car was parked.

  “You can still be mad at me in the car, Sam.”

  When we got to the car, he put me down. Slowly. My body slid down his until my feet were on the ground and my arms around his neck. He leaned me up against the passenger side door. I looked up at him. I knew exactly what was about to happen. And I had no intention of stopping it.

  Dalton leaned down and kissed me. It lasted forever. And I still wanted more.

  CHAPTER 8

  ◆◆◆

  I woke up with a pounding headache and a regretful recollection of the night before. Oh god. I kissed Dalton. I immediately checked to see if my clothes were still on. They were. I had slept in the same dress I’d worn out last night. My hair and my pillow smelled like smoke. Someone had taken my shoes off, and I didn’t remember that someone being me.

  I rolled over. No Dalton. Okay, I didn’t sleep with him. I think I would have remembered if I had. At least I hope I would, given the fact that I haven’t had sex in over a month. And sex with Dalton was certainly not something you forget.

  I got up and headed for the kitchen to get some aspirin. There in the living room, asleep on my couch, was Dalton. He was laying there wearing nothing but his white Calvin Klein boxer briefs, looking like some kind of Greek statue or anatomy drawing that belonged in a museum. I just stood there in the doorway, staring at him. I had been in love with this man for most of my adult life. My heart ached for him even though he was right there in front of me. That was the essence of our relationship. I really wanted to believe he was sorry, but I’d been here too many times before. I could see the writing on the wall. Hell, I wrote the writing on the wall.

  I went to the kitchen and took a couple of aspirin. Then I started the coffeepot. When I walked back into the living room, Dalton was awake.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “Like a loser that needs a shower.” I walked towards the bathroom.

  “Want some company?”

  “Nah, I’m good.” I went into the bathroom and locked the door. The last thing I needed was him joining me in the shower. Sex was the slippery slope that always got us back together and always got me another soul crushing.

  After I finished my shower, I put on my robe and blow-dried my hair. Then I walked back into the living room.

  “Wanna go to Majestic?” Dalton asked.

  “Fuck yeah, I do.” The Majestic had the best breakfast in town and I was starving. Plus, I needed to extricate Dalton from my apartment so I could get to work lining up my next job interview.

  “I’m gonna jump in the shower first.” He got up and walked past me, stopping to lean down and kiss me on top of my head. “You’re still funny as hell when you’re drunk.”

  “You’re still a jerk when I’m drunk.”

  “Yeah, but you love me anyway.” He closed the bathroom door.

  Asshole. He was right. I did love him anyway. It felt good being out with him last night. Slipping back into our usual couple banter. Sitting on his lap. Having his arms around me. And that kiss. Goddamn that kiss. I kept thinking about it as I got dressed. The greatest thing about my relationship with Dalton was the passion. The spark was always there. But the explosion and the shrapnel that follows was never far behind.

  As soon as I finished getting dressed, the bathroom door opened. Dalton stood there with a towel wrapped around his hips, water dripping down his chest from his long wet hair. His chiseled oblique muscles were fully exposed. God, what I wanted to do to that body. What I had done to that body. He caught me staring and smiled vindictively.

  “
I’m using your toothbrush,” he said.

  I wanted him so badly. I missed him so badly. And I knew that all I had to do was walk over to him and give him a look. The towel would drop. He would lift me up onto the sink like he had done so many times before. I would wrap my legs around him and he’d walk me into the bedroom where we’d spend the entire day making up for lost time. And then I’d be right back where I started. I quickly snapped out of it.

  “I’ll meet you downstairs. I need to get something at Kroger.” I grabbed my purse and ran out of the apartment. I walked over to Kroger even though I didn’t actually need anything. I bought some Alka-Seltzer and tampons just to cover my hasty exit. I could always use Alka-Seltzer and tampons.

  I left the grocery store and walked over to Dalton’s car. It was a fancy red sports car that was way too fast and way too flashy. I used to refer to it as the extension. Not that he needed one.

  We arrived at The Majestic around ten and were seated at a booth near the back. I ordered a grilled cheese and fries and he ordered steak and eggs. I was already on my second cup of coffee.

  “So, tell me about this New York thing,” he said.

  “Not much to tell. I interviewed for a job in corporate last week and I didn’t get it because Bitchy Brenda hates me.”

  “You were just going to move to New York and not tell me?”

  “I wasn’t speaking to you at the time. I hadn’t been speaking to you for thirty-six days to be exact.”

  “Sam, about that night,” he said.

  “Yeah, about that night.”

  “I fell asleep. Rhonda didn’t wake me up.”

  The sound of her name made my jaws clench. “Of course she didn’t.”

  “I swear to god nothing happened.”

  “Okay.” I didn’t know if I believed him or not.

  “Does that mean you forgive me? That I get another chance?”

  “You get the chance to have breakfast with me right now.”

  “Fair enough.”

  We sat there eating our Majestic breakfast like two civilized people. It was nice, actually. He was going to his office afterwards, and I was grateful for that. I needed to get my head back on straight and focus on New York. The sooner I could find a job, the sooner I could escape what was certain to be another round with Dalton.

  When I got back to the apartment, I sat down at my desk and logged onto Monster.com. I started submitting for every single writing job I saw based in Manhattan. I figured if I got any interest, I could do another long weekend in the city and schedule a few interviews in one day. I had plenty of vacation saved up and I knew my boss would approve the time off.

  Just as I hit the submit button on my third job application, an ICQ message popped up from The Waiter. “Whatcha doing Red?”

  All of the sudden, I felt guilty. Like I had somehow tainted our budding relationship by hanging out with Dalton. The Waiter and I weren’t really seeing each other. But we were doing something. I typed out a response.

  “I’m recovering from a girls’ night out in which I attempted to drown my sorrow. I didn’t get the job.”

  My phone rang. It was The Waiter.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t get it. I’m so sorry hon.”

  “Thanks. I’m pretty bummed. But now I’m just sitting here blasting Monster with my resume.”

  “Good. So that means you’ll be back up here soon.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Me too. I can’t wait to see you again.”

  I wondered if he could hear me smiling through the phone.

  “So, what were you wearing last night while you were drowning your sorrow?” I immediately thought about holding my mini-dress down to cover my ass while Dalton was carrying me out of the Clermont.

  “Oh, the usual. Little black dress.”

  “How little? Bring it the next time you come up.”

  “I will.”

  “Okay babe, I’m going to head to the gym before work. Talk later?”

  “Of course.”

  After we hung up, I called Josh.

  “I did a bad, bad thing.”

  “You had sex with Dalton, didn’t you?”

  “No, but I did kiss him. Because I was drunk. And I was drunk because I didn’t get the job.”

  “Get the fuck out. Really? That sucks!”

  I gave Josh the rundown of why I thought I didn’t get the job as well as an overview of the previous night’s antics. Then I remembered Lucy had mentioned that Vogue was always hiring.

  “Hey, can you email me Lucy’s contact info? I wanna send her my resume. She said she might be able to find something for me at Vogue.”

  “Sure,” he replied. “I’ll go do it right now.”

  “Thanks Josh. I’ll talk to you later.”

  I sat there for a minute, just picturing myself working at Vogue. What are the odds? I figured they were better for me than for most, since I had an inside contact. In any case, I was feeling a lot better about myself and my prospects today than I did yesterday. And how great would it be to tell Bitchy Brenda that I was moving to New York to work for Vogue?

  In less than a minute, Josh had sent me Lucy’s info. I quickly fired off an email message to her and attached my resume along with a few writing samples. I thanked her profusely for offering to help.

  The downstairs buzzer rang. I went over to answer it. “Yes?”

  “Delivery for Sammy St. Clair.”

  “Come on up.” I pressed the buzzer. Deliveries were pretty common on Saturdays, even though I couldn’t remember ordering anything. In a few minutes there was a knock at my door. I opened it to see an enormous bouquet of peach-colored roses. I was stunned.

  “Sign here, please.” The delivery guy handed me a pen and I signed.

  “Thank you.” I closed the door and set the flowers down on the table. They smelled like perfume. I counted them one-by-one. There were thirty-six in total. Three-dozen roses from Dalton. I smiled as I read the card.

  I’m sorry about the job. I’m sorry I’m a dick. I’m sorry you didn’t talk to me for 36 days. But I’m not sorry about that kiss.

  CHAPTER 9

  ◆◆◆

  I spent the rest of Saturday and all day Sunday applying for jobs. On Monday I went to a Labor Day barbecue at Dana and Simon’s. We sat outside drinking margaritas and analyzing the Dalton situation. Dana was impressed that I hadn’t slept with him. I was impressed that I hadn’t slept with him. I told her about the flowers. It wasn’t the first time Dalton had sent me flowers, but Dana and I were both taken aback at the seeming sincerity of the card. I could feel him reeling me back in. If I stayed in Atlanta, I knew I’d end up back with him. Dana agreed.

  Tuesday I got an email from Lucy about a job at her friend Jackie’s start-up. Jackie had worked at Vogue for several years before launching a fashion site called e-Styled.com. It brought together stylists, designers, clothing brands and all kinds of fashion industry people and allowed consumers and subscribers the ability to style outfits and build wardrobes online. It was an incredibly creative concept, and the company was well-funded. They were looking for an Online Editor to write web content, newsletters, ad copy, and fashion related articles. Lucy asked if I would be interested. Of course I said yes.

  It was now Wednesday afternoon. Deb and I had just returned from a cardio funk class at the frog pond. Okay, the Australian Body Works gym wasn’t actually in a frog pond. It was in The Rio Mall, which was two blocks from the office. It’s where we spent most of our lunch hours. The inner courtyard had this strange water fountain with hundreds of gold frogs lined up in a foosball formation. That’s why we called it the frog pond.

  Just as I sat down at my desk, the phone rang. I answered.

  “Hi Sammy, this is Victoria Neal. I’m the Human Resources Manager at e-Styled. We’d love to have you come in for an interview next week. Are you available Monday?”

  “Yes, of course. I’d love to.”

  “Great! How about two o’clock
?”

  “That works for me.”

  “Okay then. I’ll send you an email with all the details and we’ll look forward to seeing you on Monday.”

  “Thank you so much,” I said as I hung up the phone. I was so excited my entire body was shaking. I immediately put in a vacation day request for Monday. My boss was off this week, but I knew he would approve it. Then I called our in-house travel agency to arrange my flight and hotel. I would fly to New York Saturday morning and fly back Monday night. And I’d be staying at On the Ave Hotel again.

  After securing my travel plans, I sent Lucy an email telling her about the interview and thanking her for putting in a good word for me. I told her I’d love to take her out to lunch or dinner this weekend if she had time.

  Then I called Josh. “Guess who’s gonna be in the city this weekend?”

  “Seriously?” he responded. “Why? What happened?”

  “Lucy,” I said. “She got me an interview on Monday. I am so taking her out to dinner.”

  “This is great,” he said. “We can all hang out again.”

  As soon as I hung up with Josh, I called Dana. “You’re gonna get laid this weekend,” she said. Suddenly I felt nervous. The Waiter didn’t even know I was coming yet. Doubt quickly set in. Would he still want to see me? What if he already had plans? What if he was seeing somebody else? Why wouldn’t he be seeing somebody else? Of course he’s seeing somebody else.

  After talking to Dana, I logged on to ICQ to see if The Waiter just happened to be online in the middle of the day. He was. Was he chatting with somebody else? I messaged him.

  “Hey! I have another job interview on Monday. I’m coming back to the city this Saturday.”

  “Are you serious?” he responded instantly. “That’s perfect! What are you doing Saturday night?”

  “I don’t know yet. Hanging out with Josh and Katie and Lucy and Kyle at some point, I’m sure.”

  “I want to take you to this really cool show. My friend is in it. Josh and everyone can come. I’ll get comp tickets for all of us.”

  “Okay. That sounds like fun. Thanks.”

  “Chat tonight? Regular time?”