Page 27 of Bad Daddy

No one even looked over to ask why on earth some random guy was in the kitchen. “Tables seven through nine!” someone barked in Spanish. “Happy fucking twenty-fifth!” Danny thought he recognized the man as Luis. Danny had only seen him leave the kitchen a couple of times, but Antonio had pointed him out once, chattering on about how their abuela was planning on leaving the restaurant to him when she retires at one hundred thirty-seven but no sooner than that. Basically, when Abuela wasn’t there, Luis was in charge.

Okay, Danny thought resolutely. No one liked cold food.

He’d seen enough servers to know that–ah, okay, he located the little folding table things that big trays got set on, stacked on up one side of the kitchen. He grabbed one and hooked it over his elbow, then very carefully grabbed one of the large trays of food.

Right. Okay.

He didn't know the table numbers all that well, but several of the big table groups had balloons. Danny had trouble differentiating his 2s and 5s, but he did know the general shape of them. They looked different from 5 and 0 which were what the balloons on the other big table grouping across the room said.

Mindful of the heavy tray, he picked his way towards tables seven through nine, all clustered together so that the group was as close as they could be. When he got there, he tried to manage a smile to hide his nerves as he gingerly unfolded the little table and set the tray on it. “Uh, hi–happy anniversary. Sorry, I’m filling in for a sec, so I didn’t take your orders.” He glanced down at the tray and thanked Grand Azteca’s incredibly visual menu, because at least he mostly recognized the dishes. Fake it til you make it. He’d figure this out through the process of elimination. “Who ordered the chimichanga?”

The dishes were miraculously distributed without issue, and Danny assured the table that he’d be right back with the rest of the food. As he rushed to the kitchen, someone from another table flagged him down to ask for drink refills.

“Yeah, I, uh, sorry,” Danny said. “I’ll be with you in just a few minutes.”

He got to the kitchen, grabbed the second tray of food, went back to the anniversary table to distribute it, swung by the other table to get drinks orders, then headed back to the kitchen again. He didn't bother trying to write anything down, because all the drinks were easy enough to memorize.

He also didn't bother asking where the drinks were once he got to the kitchen, because he spied the soda machine on the right side and beelined to it, plucking up a tray on the way.

One sprite, one diet coke, two strawberry lemonades– then he added a pitcher of ice water and went back out.

Isabella was just seating a table of four when Danny finished with the drinks, and she gave him a truly bewildered look as he passed her with the water pitcher. He shrugged, unable to convey how completely he didn't understand what was going on either, but he did fill four glasses with water and brought them to the new table, taking further drink orders before noticing that the two people at the table behind the giant anniversary party didn’t look like they were eating anymore. Just sitting and talking, with mostly-empty plates.

They were interested in dessert when he asked, so he just went with it.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed when someone grabbed his arm just as he was heading to the kitchen again. Danny jumped and whirled around–to see Antonio staring at him in horror.

“What?” Danny asked uneasily. Did he get someone’s order wrong?

“What do you mean what?” Antonio burst out. “We said twenty minutes!”

“Okay…?” Danny honestly didn't know how long it had been.

“I thought you ate and left!” Antonio said, jabbing a finger in Danny’s direction.

Danny huffed. “No one told me my food was ready. And it’s been busy.”

“‘It’s been busy,’ he says,” Antonio repeated, grabbing at his hair. “Aubela’s going to kill me.”

“Why?” Danny was doing his best not to scowl now. He kind of thought he was doing a good job.

“Because I don’t have the authority to hire someone! And you’re going to have to be on payroll after tonight!”

“Oh–” That reminded him. “About that…” Danny pulled some bills out of his pocket and offered them to Antonio. It wasn’t an insignificant amount of money, and Danny didn't need to be holding it any longer than he had to. “A few people finished and stuff.”

Antonio looked at him as though Danny had insulted his mother. “Those are tips.”

“I know that,” Danny hissed, more annoyed than concerned now. “But you were busy.”

“I was busy working the other side of the restaurant, because I thought someone had been called in to take care of my side!”

Danny took a deep breath and tried to remind himself that Antonio was just high-strung. “Explain why you’re mad. I was literally just doing what you asked me to.”

“I’m not mad!” Antonio shoved at the money in Danny’s hands. “Put that back!”

“On the tables?” Danny tried to work out. “But–”

“In your pocket,” Antonio near shrieked. “They’re your tips.”

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