Page 20 of Waitress at the Shadow Ridge Inn
“Yes, Mom.”
On Angie’s end, I heard a knock, followed by Angie calling out, “Be out in a minute.”
“Are you in a bathroom?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she confirmed. “It was the only room that didn’t have people in it. I should go though. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, it’s all good. Have fun, okay?”
“I will.”
“Bye, Ang.”
“Bye, Case.”
I disconnected the call, feeling worse than ever, turned off the phone, and tossed it aside.
I’m sittingat one of the high tables at the back of the room, taking everything in. We’re in someone’s basement, but the place is nicer than some of the actual bars I’ve been to. Dark wood. Recessed lighting. A jukebox sits on the far side. Through a series of open arches, I can see a pool table, an air hockey table, and at least one pinball machine. The place is huge, spanning the length and width of the stately manor home above.
I sip a non-alcoholic cocktail and people watch while Angie does her thing. I need to stay sober. Either I’ll be driving a tipsy Angie back to our place at the end of the night, or Angie’s snag-a-man plan will be successful, and I’ll be driving myself home.
She seems to be having a good time, flitting around in the sexy fairy costume that highlights her tall, lithe figure to perfection. In contrast, I stick to the shadows, more comfortable in my dark Druid ensemble, consisting of a long black dress, flowing hooded robe, and some creative makeup gleaned from YouTube videos.
I’ve never been much for dressing up, and I’m not a fan of parties in general. I prefer spending my free time doing things that don’t involve crowds and copious amounts of alcohol. Some of that could be attributed to the fact that my parents had been killed by a drunk driver the night of my high school graduation.
But I was bound by the friend code. Angie was here, so I was here too.
I secretly wonder how much longer we’ll have to stay. As the night wears on, people are getting drunker, and the vibe is getting rowdier.
I remind myself that I’m here for Angie, not for me.
She heard that Henry, the super-hot guy in IT, was going to be here, and she had been crushing on him for weeks. She’d tried everything to get him to notice her, like learning his schedule so they could conveniently cross paths throughout the day. She even went so far as to stick a paper clip in her laptop port so she had a reason to contact him. Despite her efforts, she’d received nothing more than the same friendly, professional interest he showed to everyone.
So, here I am, bored and uncomfortable, wishing we could leave. As the night wears on, it becomes increasingly apparent that Angie will not be going home with Henry. In fact, he seems to be actively avoiding her. I haven’t seen him in a while. Not that I am watching him or anything.
“May I?” asks a deep male voice from my left.
I turn and see Zorro—aka Henry, the hot IT guy—looking at me expectantly. Like me, he’s dressed completely in black. Behind his black mask, his light-blue eyes sparkle vividly.
He gestures to the empty seat beside me.
I nod and look around for Angie, but she’s not where she was a minute ago.
He puts his glass on the table and sits down. “What are you drinking?” he asks, pointing at my drink.
“Virgin colada.”
“Not much of a drinker, huh?”
I shake my head.
“Me neither.”
“I’m just here for my friend,” I say, seeing this as an opportunity to be a good wingman—uh, wingwoman. I could mention Angie’s name and gauge his potential interest by his reaction.
“Oh? Who’s your friend?”
“Angie Molinaro. She’s the one in the fairy costume.”
