Page 12 of Dangerous Curves Ahead
The music played overhead and when they were led to a small table, Steele held her chair out and then pushed it in, and sat down opposite her.
Their waiter came and took their drink order and left, and Steele’s phone buzzed.
He looked at the screen and let out a groan. “I have to take this. Order for me?”
She smiled and nodded, and he told her what he wanted and then left, putting the phone up to his ear the minute he was out of hearing range.
The waiter came back and she had her menu out, trying to decide between two different plates, when he rudely said, “What can I get you?”
His voice was abrupt and she looked up at him, “Oh, can I get the spaghetti? And he wants the special.”
The man sneered down at her, “Sure. Anything else?”
His tone seemed derisive and she didn’t understand it, but shook her head, “Nothing else, thank you.”
He turned and walked away, but not before she heard him say under his breath about her not needing more calories.
Her mouth dropped open and she put her menu on the table, not sure she heard him right. “I beg your pardon?”
He turned around, “I didn’t say anything.”
She looked down at the table and then back up at him, “Actually, you did. I heard you say something about me.”
He shook his head but his eyebrow raised as if baiting her, waiting for her to say something about what she overheard, and she said, “Do you talk about all your patrons like this? Let them hear you say stuff about them?”
The guy didn’t answer and she went on, “If it had been my guy who had ordered and not me, would you have said anything about him under your breath, but clearly loud enough for him to overhear?”
The guy was silent, his mouth opening and closing, as if unsure what to say and she kept going, “I didn’t think so. What gives you the right to talk about me like that? Nothing. That’s right. Nothing gives you the right to talk about anyone like you did me. You don’t get to judge me ever. You know absolutely nothing about me besides my appearance. That so badly offended you, you thought you had the right to talk about me in such an offensive way. I don’t think so.”
She was pissed, rightfully so, and she stood and the manager hurried over, sensing something was wrong, “I don’t know who came up with the notion that the perfect girl is a size zero woman, but I assure you, that is ridiculous. Women come in all shapes and sizes. Skinny, thick, brown, white, caramel and cream. They are beautiful every way no matter what. And no one, especially men like you, get to make them feel badly for not beingyourimage of the perfect woman. I for one love my curves. Have had them my entire life. I eat right, I do yoga every week and yet, still have the curves. And it’s okay. I’m beautiful as me. Just as that woman,” she pointed at a young teenage girl who had piercings and dyed black hair, “Is beautiful as her. As that woman,” She pointed at another woman with four kids and bleach blonde hair, in perfectly pressed clothes, “Is beautiful as her. Society thinks that women need to be stick thin, or they assume that we are all unhealthy. That isn’t always the case and it doesn’t matter anyway. It has caused hurt and pain to women everywhere and that is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. Well, I say forget that. I refuse to be what society wants. I am curvy, and beautiful and I refuse to let little, pathetic men like you make me feel less than. My dream guy loves my curves by the way. Thank you for your time.”
She picked up her coat and her purse, and Steele came back, his face a mask of anger, standing head and shoulders over the waiter, she heard him whisper, “My woman is correct. I love every single inch of her curves and if I were you, i would reevaluate my life.”
The manager stood next to them, still in mild shock at what had gone down, “Kevin, I warned you before to not treat a customer badly, and yet it happened again. You are fired.”
Then she turned to them, “I apologize for his behavior. I am appalled he would speak about you like that.”
She was a woman, had curves like Rickie and hugged her. “I heard what you said, and I have never felt more proud to be a woman. Thank you. I am sorry for what happened here today.”
Rickie smiled, “It’s okay. It’s not his fault he is small minded.”
The manager, whose name tag read, Susan on it, said, “Well, I apologize still. On behalf of myself and the restaurant, please, stay. I will get you a new waiter and your meals will be taken care of.”
Rickie looked up at Steele and he shrugged, “Bombshell, it’s your choice.”
Rickie smiled, “I would love to eat here. Thank you Susan.”
Susan smiled and they sat back down, and a waitress came by, smiling at them.
“Hi. My name is Meg. I will be your waitress tonight. What can I get you?”
Rickie told her and Steele grinned over at her as she let the waitress know what they decided.
When Meg walked away, Steele reached over and grabbed her hand, and kissed the back of it.
“When I came back from my phone call, I heard the end of what you said. I’m so proud of you Bombshell. So ridiculously proud. And you are right. I love every single inch of your curves. I don’t want them to go away.”
She smiled, “I love that. Thank you Steele.”
They ate their meals, talking to each other about their pasts, their families and after they left, they just drove around, telling each other about their lives, and their likes and dislikes.
