Page 8 of For the Lover in You
"Is everything okay?" she asked. Her voice was soft, so I had to strain to hear her.
"Yes! My boy just arrived. He wants to order some drinks."
Her eyes bounced to me, and she stared at me again. I was used to women staring, so it didn't bother me as much. She cleared her voice and reached for the booklet in her apron.
"Wh-what can I get you?" she asked, stuttering.
I looked her up and down. I could tell she was nervous. I thought it would be nice to break the ice so she wouldn't be nervous. My boys and I had nothing to be nervous about. If she were going to be working here, she would need to get over that.
"What's your name?" I asked with a smile.
"Mila."
"Tremaine."
Again, she stared at me. Nothing behind her brown eyes.
"How long have you been here? I ain't ever seen you around here before," I commented.
"Um, since Monday. I'm still learning."
She kept her response simple, avoiding all eye contact with me.
"Bet. Are you from here?" I asked.
She closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh. "Sir, what can I get for you?"
My eyes bounced over to Vance and Owen as they tried their hardest to muffle their laughs. I was confused. This was my first time meeting her, so I had no idea where the attitude stemmed from.
"Damn, are you okay? I'm just trying to make small talk. Shit, we're here every Thursday, so we might as well become acquainted."
"That won't be necessary. I'm here to do my job, not to make friends with anyone. Now, sir, if you don't mind, may I please take your order? I have four other tables to get to," she asserted, this time, her voice dripping with attitude.
"Damn, who hurt you?" I asked, offended that she was giving me so much attitude when her money relied on me. "I just walked in here, trying to get my boys and me a few bottles and be cordial with you. We ain't the type of people y'all stereotype. We do tip, so don't worry, baby girl. We're good for it," I snapped.
"I never said you weren't. I would like to get through a shift without some nigga trying to be all in my business. Order your shit and I'll bring you your shit. There's no need for small talk," she spat back at me.
I looked at Owen and Vance. This time, they both had confused looks on their faces.
"Yo, where the fuck is Justin at? Bring him out here. I ain't got time for this shit!" I fumed.
Her expression changed as if she had realized what she had done. It was too late.
"Listen—" she started, but I stopped her.
"Nah, baby girl, fuck all that. Go get him."
"But—"
"Yo? What did I just say? You approached my table with a fucked-up attitude. Go get your manager."
She hesitated for a second and then sped off in the back.
"Yo, who the fuck is Justin out here hiring? She's coming at me sideways like I asked her to fuck," I ranted to Vance and Owen.
"Yeah, she wasn't like that with us. She said her name, asked our orders, and that was it," Vance explained. "She might be having a bad shift."
"No excuses. I just got here."
