“Before you go, you need to cash out Gina’s last table. She had an emergency. Something with her stupid ass kid again.” I roll my eyes. He knows Gina’s daughter has leukemia. He really is a douchebag.
Nodding instead of speaking to the asshat, I rush over to the nearest server station and print the receipt. The total is over a thousand dollars. It runs the gamut from beers to fruity drinks. Damn it. I just know they are going to make me split it over many cards.
“Hey guys,” I begin as I reach the table.
“Hey sexy,” one man says. Oh, God. I had it good most of the night; this is my penance.
“Here’s your bill,” I reply, ignoring him. I hate guys like this. They always hit on me. Even when I look like shit and am covered in cherry goo, it never fails. Now, I know I am not the prettiest girl in the world, but if you want a pick me up, get a job in a bar. Everyone hits on you.
“Wanna come back to my place?” Another asks. Rolling my eyes, I ignore that dick too. As always, I am the “Last Call Special.” It means absolutely nothing, just desperate drunks who do not want to go home alone. Besides, I am going home.
“Why are waitresses always such bitches?” Yet another putz asks no one in particular.
“They think they are better than everyone else,” the first man says.
“How would you like to pay?” I ask, wanting to get this show on the road.
“We could show you a good time,” one of them suggests, causing me to laugh out loud.
“Thanks, but no thanks. I just need cash or a card to close out this bill as we are about to close.”
“Bitches shouldn’t be choosy,” one of them announces.
“Bitches have all the choices. Now a credit card please, and we can be on our way,” I say, fed up.
One of the men stands up and dumps his beer on my head. That fucking escalated quickly. It’s cold, and I am sputtering to get it out of my mouth, and frantically I wipe it out of my eyes. This shit burns. The drunk assholes just laugh at me. Well, this is just fucking great. Not for the first time, I miss my old life. The one where I did charity work, and no one ever spilled shit on me.
Fuck it. I do not need this shit. I walk away from the table and go back to the employee area grabbing all of my shit out of my locker.
“What the fuck happened to you? Did you close that tab out?”
“No, I did not. I fucking quit. You can take this job and shove it up your ass, you handsy dick,” I yell as I turn to walk out of the room.
“No one talks to me like that, Brynn. Get your ass back here,” Sal says.
“Fuck you,” I repeat.
“You’ll never work in this town again,” he threatens.
“Good,” I say.
“Where do I send your last check? The one you know is getting lost in the mail,” he says, laughing.
“Send it care of my uncle,” I say, surprising even myself. I never have nor would I ever tell anyone about my family, but luckily in this part of the northeast, Vitali might as well be Smith, so keeping my secrets secret was pretty easy.
“Who the fuck is your uncle?” he demands.
“Alberto Vitali,” I tell him and smugly watch the blood drain from his face, but he says nothing else. “I thought so, asshole.” Everybody knows who my uncle is. They don’t know for sure what we get up to, but the rumors are enough to calm most people down.
I walk out of there and never look back. Out in the parking lot, I see the party bus and hop on it, going directly to Brendan. Sliding into the empty seat next to him, I sigh in relief.
“What the hell happened to you?”
“I quit my job,” I say excitedly.
“That’s good?” he asks.
“The best. I hated working here. I need a hot shower and clean clothes. I am so sticky, and I smell like a brewery.”
“I can help you with that,” he says, causing me to giggle.
“You gonna give me a bath?” I ask. I don’t know who I am anymore. I have never been so bold, yet I have done it all night tonight. There’s something about this man that has me forgetting who I am, or at least wanting to forget.
“No, that is not what I meant,” he says, chuckling. “I just meant that I have a shower at your disposal. Unless of course, you require assistance?”
“Gotcha. No, I’ve been showering on my own for many, many years,” I tell him, laughing.
“Well, you just let me know if you need help. My faucet can be very tricky,” he tells me, grinning. He is so freaking cute. I just want to mess that suit up. Who wears a three-piece suit to a bachelor party anyway?