Page 54 of Bratva Knight

“And I wasthisclose to throat punching them,” I said, holding my fingers only a hair's breadth apart. “Seriously, did you hear how rude they were? Commanding me around like I was their fucking servant?”

“People are rude. Especially to waitstaff,” she shrugged, placing two mugs in front of me. “Here’s their drinks. Don’t forget to take it over on a tray and remember to smile. Might help with the tip. You have a pretty smile.”

“They can take their tip and shove it up their asses, for all I care,” I said with the brightest smile on my face.

She laughed, shaking her head.

I took the drinks over to them and placed them down on the table. “Here you go, guys.”

“It’s about fucking time,” Mrs Douche grumbled. She took a sip and her face morphed into disgust. She slammed the cup back down, the liquid sloshing out all over the table. “I saidthreesugars. Three! What, are you deaf? How hard is it to make a proper cup of coffee? Take it away and get it right. Where’s our food?”

I stared at her, my eyes glazing over with a deadly rage. I didn’t even try to hide the look taking over my face. It was the look I had right before I killed someone. Oh, there were so many things sitting on that table I could use to do just that. A knife. A fork. I could smash the coffee cup and use a shard of it to slice her throat from ear to ear.

Mrs Douche swallowed nervously and lowered her gaze.

That’s right, bitch. I’m the Alpha here.

“I will go find out about your food,” I said slowly.

“Th-thank you,” she grumbled, still avoiding my eyes.

Maybe the look on my face told her I was definitely capable of killing her without blinking an eye, and now she was worried about pissing me off even further. Good.

I ducked into the kitchen to ask Jeffery how long until my orders were ready. He said only a few more minutes, so I used that time to clean the display cabinet that held all the freshly-baked pastries, muffins and cakes.

The café wasn’t busy. Apart from Mr and Mrs Douche, there were only three other customers, all being handled by other waitstaff.

Adingrang through the air. “Order up,” Jeffery barked, placing two plates of food under the heated lamps of the pass. I checked them over, making sure they were definitely my orders before taking them over to my customers. Neither one of them said a word to me when I placed their food down onto the table.

As their server, I was aware of the fact that I was meant to re-confirm their orders, but I wasn’t sure exactly what would come out of my mouth, so I chose to say nothing.

Belinda was finishing up serving someone at the register when I was making my way back behind the counter. “Did you threaten her? She’s as white as a ghost.”

“Who? Mrs Douche?” The smile on Belinda’s face told me she wouldn’t be angry if I did. That, in fact, she would find it quite amusing. “Not with words.”

Her green eyes sparkled. “You gave her ‘resting bitch’ face didn’t you?”

“No. I gave her my ‘I’m going to kill you’ face.”

She laughed, not taking my words seriously, even though I was being dead honest. “That’s probably going to cost you your tip.”

“I couldn’t care less,” I admitted. “She’s just lucky I didn’t stab her in the throat.”

She laughed again, her smile slowly fading away when I didn’t laugh along with her. “You’re…joking, right?”

“Nope.”

The rest of the customers I had for the day were pleasant and kind. They didn’t bring out that angry, murderous side of me, so that was a win in my book.

My highest tip of the day was $7.64. My lowest was $0.50, courtesy of Mr and Mrs Douche. In total I got $54.17. My brain ran rampant, trying to figure out how I was going to pay for everything I needed to pay for if I was only going to make $50 in tips a day. Making it on my own was going to be harder than I thought.

I got along with all the other workers, Belinda in particular. We talked shit and joked about random stuff all shift, which helped make the time go by quicker. She had no problem putting on her “boss bitch” cap whenever she needed to, separating personal from professional. It was a trait I definitely admired.

As much as I hated the “serving customers” aspect of the job, I was quite enjoying myself. Granted, it was just the first day. But still, I liked it. This was my first job, and it felt good to finallydosomething other than shop and watch TV. Yeah, I was working towards my fashion line. But I’d never actuallyworkeda day in my life before, held a proper job. I’d never earned my own money or provided for myself.

So even though my feet were sore, my shoes were dirty, I had food in my hair and was completely covered in sticky sweat, I felt great.

“You did a good job today,” Belinda said, taking off her apron and popping it into her bag.

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