Page 7 of Wasted Memories
“Just ready to go home. It’s been a long day,” I replied.
I brought the drinks over to one of my tables, then wrote down the order of the family next to them. Turning around, I noticed someone had seated the mystery man in my section.
Lovely.
Heaving a sigh, I made my way to his booth. He didn’t look up from the menu as I approached, so after about fifteen seconds of standing there in silence, I cleared my throat to get his attention.
Polite was not in my vocabulary after our interaction the night before.
He slowly laid the menu flat on the table, angling his head at me. Even standing here, we were almost eye level. Granted, I was pretty short at five foot one. The guy had to be atleasta foot taller than me.
“Can I get you started with something to drink?” I asked, pasting on a smile as I poised my pen above my little notepad.
“Water, please,” he replied. He didn’t smile or frown or make any sort of facial expression, just stared at me with a blank face.
“That’s it?” I blurted.The man wanted a water, was that really a problem?
He raised an eyebrow. “That’s what I asked for, darlin’.”
That fucking look.
“It’s a Saturday night. You don’t want a beer or something a bit stronger than just water?”
He shook his head and went back to looking at the menu. Man of few words. Got it.
My notepad slapped against my thigh as I dropped my arms. Turning on my heel, I made my way to the bar and waved down Logan, The Tavern’s best and only bartender. If he wasn’t here, the waitresses had to figure out how to make the drinks, so he was working as many doubles as he could recently.
We used to have a second bartender but our asshole of a boss made him quit on the spot two weeks ago when he said his spicy margarita wasn’t spicy enough. Well, that wasn’t really theonlyreason, but it was the straw that broke the camel's back.
“Tell me, what’d that beast of a man order? I want to know his taste.” Logan licked his lips. “In drinks, of course,” he added, smiling as he leaned into his hands placed in front of him on the edge of the bar.
“Just a water, Lo.”
“That man, the one we both see right there, in that booth, only wants a water?”
Logan thought he could judge people’s characters by what drink they ordered: if they ordered a margarita, he deemed them outgoing; if it was wine, they were a gossip; gin and tonic, they were invigorating.
He held his hands up, turning around to fill a glass with water. “Alright. If that’s what the ravenous beast wants.”
Grabbing the ice water from Logan, I walked it over to the booth, setting it down and seeing that he was still studying the menu. “I’ll give you a minute to decide.”
I took one step to turn when he said, “I’m ready.”
Pausing a moment before turning back to him, I pursed my lips together and waited for him to speak. After standing in silence for a good ten seconds, I asked, “What can I get you?”
“What do you recommend?”
“Thought you were ready to order?”
Silence.
“The burger is pretty good, lots of locals like it.”
“Then I’ll have the burger.”
I gave a curt nod and walked to the POS system by the bar, putting in his order.
I wasn’t sure what this guys problem was, but if he was trying to give me a headache, he’d succeeded. The sooner he ate and left, the better.
