Page 7 of Marrying My Orc Boss

It’s going to be another night of being rushed off my feet, but at least time goes quicker that way. Well, I try to convince myself, anyway.

I rush through the door and make my way through to the back.

“Hey, Sally,” Vera, one of the waitresses, calls out to me.

“Hi, Vera,” I call back with a wave.

I reach the bar, make my way round the back, and then through the door to the staff end of the restaurant. I try to creep past Alan’s office.

“You’re late!” Alan shouts as I pass.

“Sorry, Alan,” I call back. “Won’t happen again.”

“You said that the last time,” he shouts.

I push the changing room door, put my purse and coat in the locker, draw my hair back with my hairband, and put on my apron. I look at myself in the mirror, ensuring my makeup hasn’t run from the tears. I practice my smile and tell myself not to worry about Dad.

The restaurant is packed, loud, and chaotic as ever, with servers running back and forth with trays full of food and drinks. I walk over to check on one of my tables. It’s a rich-looking family. The mother is in a beautiful outfit. The father is wearing an expensive suit and looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. Their two kids, a boy, and a girl, of course, are staring at their phones. It’s one of those families by design only.

“Everything alright?” It’s the question I ask that I only want one answer to.

“Not exactly,” the mother says with a stern look on her face. That’s the answer I don’t want.

“Oh, sorry, what seems to be the problem?” I ask in the best tone I can muster.

“Harry’s chips are hard,” she tells me.

I look at the young boy dutifully ignoring the interaction and instead killing aliens on his phone. “Oh, I’m sorry about that.”

“That’s not Harry. Harry is my husband, and his chips are hard, but Julius’s are fine,” the mother says.

I look at the husband, who has his head lowered in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry about that, sir. Let me get you some fresh ones,” I tell him as if talking to a child.

“Thank you,” he mumbles back.

“He’ll need a fresh steak as well,” the woman continues, just when I thought she was done.

I look at his plate and notice that he has already eaten it. The husband lowers his head even further. I really want to say something, but you know what? I have more important things to worry about.

“No problem, let me sort that out for you,” I say as I reach over and take the plate away. I smile and head back to the kitchen.

“I’ll need a fresh steak and chips. It’s a return,” I call out to Gustav, the orc chef, who immediately stops what he is doing and comes over.

“What’s wrong with it?” he asks. He takes pride in the food he serves.

“Chips are hard,” I tell him.

“What’s wrong with the steak?” Gustav asks, picking up one of the chips.

“He’s eaten it,” I say sarcastically.

“These chips are fine,” Gustav says, anger flashing on his face. He hands me one, and I take a bite.

“I agree. That is a great chip if I do say so myself.”

“Thank you. I’ll keep you some ragu back to take home with you. You look like you could do with a decent meal,” Gustav says. He’s a kind sort for an orc.

---