Alicia
I barely made it to my shift at Afternoon Delight on time. I managed to clock in right at four o’clock, then I went to the bathroom to change into my uniform. I realized too late that I’d forgotten a different pair of shoes, so I had to borrow a pair from another server because I obviously couldn’t wait tables in flip-flops. I’d also forgotten a hair tie. Not a great start to the evening. I grabbed a rubber band from the drawer that housed all the miscellaneous crap next to the POS computer system and, sighing, wrapped my hair up. I could practically feel my hair breaking when the rubber pulled it.
My section was already starting to fill up when I got onto the floor. Apparently the hostess thought I was some kind of a superwoman. I moved from table to table trying to take orders, but I could barely concentrate. I couldn’t stop thinking about Ryan and where he might be, what he might be doing. And with whom. I looked mournfully at Booth 2, the booth he’d sat in the day I met him, every time I walked past it.
“Sorry, could you repeat that?” I asked a customer.
The man sighed. “I said, hamburger, medium well, and fries. That’s f-r-i—”
“I got it, Sir, thank you.”
Asshole.
I marched away but stumbled over the corner of a rug that had gotten slightly upturned from the happy hour rush. I managed to catch myself, but when my hand hit the bar, I knocked a glass of water off the counter onto a customer’s lap.
“Shit, I’m so sorry!” I exclaimed. I moved to grab a bar towel to clean it up. The man was understanding; his friends joked about how he’d piss his pants that night somehow anyway. I smiled gratefully and went to grab the food the kitchen was paging me for.
I loaded up the tray with the two entrées, plus a soup and salad for another table. I walked out of the kitchen and turned, immediately walking into another server. The tray went flying and everything slid off of it onto the floor. The crash was ear-splitting, and I heard the faint sound of applause from the dining room.
“Jesus, I’m so sorry, Alicia!” the other server exclaimed. “I didn’t even see you!” We both bent down to pick up the broken dishes.
“It’s okay,” I said. “It’s my bad. I’m not myself today. Let me go put these orders back in to the kitchen, then I’ll come clean up. You can go back to your tables; this was all my fault.”
I walked back into the kitchen and apologetically told the cooks I needed them to redo my food.
“Kinda guessed that,” the gruff head chef said, looking pointedly at my shirt.
I looked down; I was covered with lasagna.
Great. Just fucking great.
I held my shirt away from my body and stood there, not knowing what to do.
“Alicia?” my manager came up to me. “Are you okay?” She looked into my eyes and put her hand on my upper arm. My manager and I got along really well, and I softened for a moment.
“I’m fine, I just…I’m going to need a new shirt and this is the only one I brought.”
“Why don’t you go take a quick break and collect yourself? I’ll have Marilyn take over your tables.”
“I’m fine,” I argued, but I knew I wasn’t. “I need to clean up the mess.”
“I’ll clean it up. Go get a glass of water or Coke or something and sit out back for a few.”
I nodded and went to the bar to get a glass of water. I was planning to go to our so-called smoking lounge: a bench placed outside the back door.
When I walked to the bar, the guys who had been sitting there were gone. Someone else sat in their place, and my stomach sank as my anxiety level shot my heart into overdrive. Tammy. Because this godawful night couldn’t get any worse. I walked over to her. I had to say something.
“You’re the one who found my blog, aren’t you? You told everyone?”
“Piss off,” she said, not looking at me. She kept her eyes glued to her menu. “I’m here for lunch, not for drama club.”
I sat down next to her.
She sighed loudly. “Hard of hearing?”
“Listen, I just want to apologize for everything that went down at the club and the things I said about you on my blog. I was hurt and upset. I felt like you hated me, but that doesn’t make it okay to plaster it all over a public place. I’m sorry.”
I had been speaking softly, quickly, trying to get everything out before I lost my nerve. When I finished, Tammy was silent. As in it appeared she wasn’t going to respond at all. When I was about to reach out and touch her arm, she exploded.
She stood up and flung her drink to the floor. It exploded against the ceramic tile, the sound resonating off of every wall. The bar and the tables eating dinner went silent.
My manager had been understanding before. Now I wondered if she’d just cut her losses and fire me.
“You think you just walk on water, don’t you?” Tammy hissed. “You just barged into the group as if you belonged there. You knew you weren't welcome. You knew that you weren’t part of the same class, and you knew that we were all a different species from your kind. And yet you weaseled in and ruined everything.” She took a deep breath and kept going. “And then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, you make up complete lies and post them all over the Internet, being rude, immature, and completely disrespectful.”
I looked around. Everyone in the bar was watching us, including the servers and my manager, who stood in the doorway to the bar with her mouth hanging open. I grabbed Tammy’s arm and tried to pull her outside with me, but she ripped her arm back.
“And why wouldn’t I hate you? You manipulated all of us, lied to us, and, when you got bored with Ryan, or maybe he didn’t pay you enough, you tried to steal my boyfriend. Did you think Justin would pay you more? Fat chance of that happening. Justin has enough woman in me without needing to buy a slut like you.”
My manager took a step forward and I grabbed Tammy. “Come outside,” I said through clenched teeth, “right now.”
This time Tammy looked around. She finally seemed to notice that we were the center of attention. She narrowed her eyes at me, grabbed her purse, and walked outside.
I followed her. “Tammy, listen. I met Ryan here. We talked and had a connection. I never gave a crap about the money he was giving me. Do you think I would have kept my job waiting tables if I planned to be some sort of sugar baby? I just wanted to be with him.”
“Oh, please.” Tammy rolled her eyes.
“It’s true. I said I was sorry; and I am sorry that I stepped in where I clearly don’t belong. But you’ve got blame in this too. I was only trying to be your friend, and you treated me like dirt from the first moment you met me. I bent over backwards to try to get you to like me.”
“You don’t fit in with the Club or anyone in it,” she spat at me.
I’d kept control of my temper the entire time, but I was about to lose it. She just wouldn’t let up. I glared at her.
“Well, now there’s no Club left for me to fit into, infiltrate, whatever. You happy now?”
I walked off in the direction of my car, bracing myself to hear Tammy scream after me, calling me a slut or whatever, but she didn’t. I got into my car and started to cry. I reeked of lasagna, I’d spilled water on a customer, ruined food, had no boyfriend, and I’d just had to confront the biggest bitch I’d ever known. And to top it all off, I’d probably just lost my job.