Weirdos
Compared to the morning, the rest of my day is boring and uneventful. Even with the snide remarks from Derrik in the one class that we share together.
I even pat myself on the back for managing to make it to work on time. Sans uniform of course. Luck is on my side for once today. Charles isn’t pissed at me for not having my uniform. I think he’s just glad that I showed up. Friday nights at the only Mexican restaurant in town can get busy. Add that to the live music that only plays on Friday and our crowd is pretty incredible. So, yeah, any callouts have the potential for disaster.
One of the best things about being busy is I don’t have time to stop and think about all of the bad shit in my life. Plus, that means more people and more people equal more tips.
After several hours, I’m sweating enough to miss my lighter uniform. Thankfully, we’re only an hour out from closing and I’ve got a wad of cash from tips in my pocket.
“You’ve got a table full over on seven,” Theresa, our hostess tonight, says as she walks past.
“They’ll probably be here awhile, and they always leave good tip.” At that last, she winks at me.
If it had come from anyone else, my pride would have been highly offended. Coming from her, though, I don’t feel like it’s as much of a handout as it is an understanding. I told her what had happened to my uniform earlier. She threatened to go kick their punk asses, but I reasoned that it wouldn’t look good on her if a thirty-something year woman beat up on a couple of teenagers. No matter how justified. Instead, she’s hooked me up with bomb ass tables all night. I’ve made enough in one night to cover the cost of two uniforms.
Pulling myself out of my head, I make my way over to the table with a smile on my face. It drops as I see two heads of hair that look similar to Derrik and his dick friends. Once I realize that it’s not them, I snap my smile back into place.
“What can I get you guys to drink?” I ask making eye contact with the tallest guy in the group. The other three raise their heads. Holy bananas, they are hot. The one I made eye contact with has short blonde hair on the sides while the long top part waves in front of his green eyes. He’s built like some of the men in the NFL. His blue-eyed friend sitting next to him is the one who answers me, “We’ll all have water. We’re trying to watch our figures.” He pats his washboard abs, drawing my attention there and they all laugh.
His eyes crinkle around the edges when he laughs, and I admire the shaggy dark brown hair that frames his face. As I take in the other two, I notice that they are all similarly built in variations of tallness. The only one that is smaller in muscle mass is the one with glasses. He’s just as hot as the others though with a strong angled face, dark blue eyes and black hair laid back against his head. Last but not least, is his buddy sitting next to him. With long blonde hair hanging past his shoulders, a smallish nose, and chocolate colored eyes, he looks like he just stepped out of a surfing magazine.
I crack a genuine smile, “I’d say you guys do enough of that already.”
Their expressions are a mixture of shock and amusement. Leaving them like that, I walk back to get their drinks. My smile quickly reverts back to a frown as guilt begins to eat at me. I flirt quite often for good tips, but it’s never real. I’m truly attracted to these guys and it’s the first time since the accident that it’s happened. Tears are fighting a battle behind my eyes as I try not to think of what my boys would say. They would tell me to be happy and get the fuck over it. I just don’t know how.
Rearranging my face into something presentable, I make my way back over to give them their waters, “You guys know what you want, or do you need a few minutes?”
I catch the one with glasses glaring at me as if he sees straight through my façade. Shit. There goes that good tip.
The brown haired one answers for all of them again, “Yeah, we’re just going to have the all you can eat tacos.”
A smile threatens to break out after his comment earlier, “Ok, anything else?”
Surfer boy grins at me, “Your phone number.”
I plaster another fake smile on my face again, “Don’t have one.”
This makes him smile even wider, “Are you really trying to blow me off?” This guy is apparently used to getting his way, especially with the ladies.
“No, actually,” I shrug, “I just really don’t have a number, because I don’t have a phone.”
He tries to hide his shock with a smug smile, “Well, how about a name? I know you’ve got one of those.”
I hesitate. Everything seems more personable that way, but I don’t want them complaining to Charles, “It’s Kendall. I’ll go get this in for you guys. Let me know if there’s anything else that you need.”
Glasses watches the entire exchange without taking his eyes off me. It’s unnerving. Putting it all to the back of my mind, I spend the next hour running out taco refills to them.
In between, I sweep up the floors and do all of my closing duties for the night. Once it’s time to close up shop, they finally ask for the check.
“Sorry we stayed so long,” the blue-eyed blonde tells me as glasses signs the check. Surfer boy steals the pen as the rest of them slide out of the booth. Glasses looks down at me like he’s looking for something. Then without saying a word, he turns and walks away as the other two follow him out. Weirdo. I reach out to take the pen when surfer boy hands it to me. He shoots me a shit eating grin before he heads to the door. They’re all weirdos and that’s the official ruling.
Shaking my head, I move to clear off the table. As I go to lift their check ticket, two bills fall out onto the table. My hands close around the two one-hundred dollars bills as my jaw hits my chest. They can’t be serious. Glancing down at the scrawl across the tiny white paper, I see why surfer boy stole the pen. Use this to go buy a phone and then call me. Followed by his phone number. Accidentally balling the paper up into my fist, I rush to the door in hopes that I can catch them.
“Where’s the fire?” Theresa laughs.
The door pops open just in time for me to see their headlights pull out of the parking lot, “Shit!”
“What are you cussing for?” Theresa asks coming up behind me.
I jerk my face around to her, “Those fucking weirdos that you gave me, dropped two hundred bucks as a tip!”
“That’s not surprising,” she says even though her face says otherwise. “They used to be regulars in here before you started. That’s how I knew they’d tip you good. Maybe they thought you were pretty.”
Rolling my eyes, I walk around her, “Yeah, I’m sure they did. I’ll just do them the favor next time and tell them where I live.”
“There’s no shame in where you live, girl,” she says shaking her head. “It’s all about how you present yourself.”
I turn her words over in my head as I find a non-existent speck to stare at on her back when she walks away.
Stuffing the cash in my pocket, I take the receipt up to the counter. When I go to put the amount in from it, I realize that glasses put an extra fifty bucks on as a tip. Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with them? Must be nice handing out daddy’s money like that. Either way, I won’t spend a dime of it. I’m not a goddamn charity case. I earn my way thank you very much. I’m going to give them a week to come back in. If they don’t then I’ll use surfer boy’s number to get it back to them somehow. Surprisingly, I don’t even need the week.