Page 115 of When We Were Reckless
Taking a deep breath, I walked over to their table and plastered a smile on my face. “Are you ready to order?”
The man checked his watch and tapped his finger on the timepiece. “We’ve been ready for ten minutes.”
They weren’t ready, though. They hadn’t even looked at the menu. When I suggested I’d give them a few minutes, they insisted I wait, “It’ll take us another ten minutes to flag you down.”
I tried my best to be pleasant, but these two were making it difficult. First, there was an issue with the appetizers. And now the main course.
“What’s wrong with it?” Declan asked.
“The customer said she can’t eat it. She said the meat is raw, and the cherries are too tart.”
“Is this the same customer that sent back the stuffed zucchini blossoms?”
I sighed. “Yep.”
“The duck is perfect.”
“Apparently, it’s not. She asked for a steak. Rare. Instead of the duck breast.” The irony wasn’t lost on me. She’d claimed the duck was undercooked, and yet she’d ordered a rare steak.
“The duck breast that is half-eaten.” He pointed to the plate because it was, indeed, half-eaten. In fact, her plate was clean except for half of the duck breast. She’d eaten all the cherry sauce that she’d claimed was too tart.
“She’s not getting a steak. I’m not serving her another damn thing. She obviously wouldn’t know good food if it bit her in the ass.”
“Declan,” I hissed, tilting my head to the left and trying to send him a signal with my eyes. But he ignored my warning and kept up his running monologue, cursing out the woman who was standing to my left.
“Well, I never,” the woman huffed. “It doesn’t surprise me that the chef is rude.” Declan snickered. He wore his rudeness proudly. “No wonder the food is barely edible.”
Oh boy. Now she'd done it.
He glowered, his face murderous. You could insult Declan about anything, and he wouldn’t give a shit. He’d just flip you off if he even bothered to respond at all. But if you criticized his cooking, you would feel his wrath.
“You can take your sorry ass and get the hell out of here. There’s a McDonald’s a few towns over.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and slapped down a twenty. “There you go. It’s on me. Go get yourself a couple Big Macs. Special orders don’t upset them.”
The woman’s jaw dropped. “I’ll be sure to leave a review,” she huffed.
“You do that. Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out. Second thought, it might help to dislodge the stick that’s wedged up there.”
Oh my God.
“You owe my wife an apology,” her husband blustered.
“Not happening.”
The man’s face turned an alarming shade of beet red. Thankfully, Aubrey intervened. “How may I help you, sir?”
She side-eyed Declan as she led the couple away. Aubrey had the patience of a saint and a knack for smoothing ruffled feathers. Declan, on the other hand, was a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.
“Really, Declan? Did you have to be so rude about it?”
He turned his wrath on me. “The fuck are you doing? You see this food?” He pointed to the two duck breasts on the pass, a popular item tonight. “It’s cold. It’s ruined. Because you’ve been so busy standing there gawking at me that you couldn’t even do your damn job. How hard is it to pick up the food and deliver it to a table? Nobody’s asking you to cook the food. All you have to do is carry it to the damn table.” He grabbed the plates and threw them on the stainless-steel counter. “Now go explain to your customers why their food is going to take twice as long.”
“You’re such an ass,” I muttered under my breath as I walked away.
This night couldn’t be over quickly enough.
Turns out it wasn’t done kicking my ass. Not by a long shot.
After I served the customers who had been kept waiting for twenty minutes and promised them a free round of drinks, I leaned across the bar and tried to get Holden’s attention.
