Say Something

Damian

After some negotiating with Alex, yet again, she places me at a table in Angel’s section. She’s not in the dining room when I take my seat, so I open the menu and start browsing, knowing that I’ll have whatever she orders me, anyway. At least it gives me something to look at, so I’m not searching the room like a stalker.

I hear the kitchen door clang open and see a curly head of hair. Angel stutter-steps when her eyes catch mine, but she doesn’t spare me a second glance before placing the tray down at a table with four men in cheap suits and bad haircuts. Okay, maybe their suits are mid-range, and their haircuts are fine. I’m just being petty because they have her attention at the moment.

Once she’s served them, she comes to my table with the tray tucked under her arm, notepad at the ready. Her smile is timid, but her lips curving at me are irresistible in any degree. “Flat water, no ice?”

“Please.” I reach out to touch her, but pull back. Seeing her now, I realize how much I’ve missed her. I’m already in over my head with this girl.

A moment later, she returns with my water, and when she places it on the table, I graze her fingers with mine, not able to resist that brief opportunity. She doesn’t pull away, but before I can say anything, Cheap Suit Number One shouts, “Miss?”

I exhale loud enough I know it’s obvious, and she winks at me, assuring me she’ll place an order for my food. Never in my life have I thought the words “I hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave,” but better believe I do when witnessing her walk away. Then I berate myself for eyeing her like a pervert. I just can’t help but stare as she stands next to the table with the four cheap suits. Her silky curls brushing her shoulders. Her narrow waist. Her round… why is that guy’s hand on her?

She swats the man’s hand off her butt and I can’t hear what she says because my heart is hammering so loud, it’s drowning everything else out. I doubt it was an invitation for the man to do the same thing again, yet that’s what he does. I want to rip his hand away from her and put him in his place but talk myself down because she didn’t take too kindly to my attempts at rescuing her before when she didn’t need to be saved.

My hearing is nearly restored as I take several deep breaths to calm myself without taking my eyes off of her. She removes the man’s hand once more before she steps back out of his reach.

She says in a voice that is far kinder than he deserves, “I’d appreciate it if you kept your hands to yourself.”

“That’s too bad, honey. What if I pay extra?” Mr. Cheap Suit retorts, eliciting a laugh from the rest of his immature friends.

“Are you from a part of the world where women are possessions to be bought and traded? Because I’m not sure if you know this, but that’s not how it works.”

“Are you being racist?” The man shouts. His skin tone hardly qualifies him to claim racism from a woman whose skin is nearly the same golden shade.

But that doesn’t stop the short, bald man I presume is the manager from appearing out of nowhere and questioning the scene playing out. He must have been in charge of the servers’ ninja training because I didn’t even see him coming. I may have been distracted trying to calm my outrage, though.

“What’s going on here?” he asks.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on here. This chick is a racist.”

The confidence I have that the manager will see through an irrational customer’s words disappears the instant he turns and says, “Miss Blake, what do you have to say for yourself?”

My shoulders tense, but Angel replies without hesitation. “This young man thinks he can grope me in exchange for money while I serve his food. I told him women can’t be bought and traded.”

“That’s not what she said. She called me a racist slur, and I won’t stand for it.”

I stand up from my seat, knocking my chair over, drawing attention to myself. Angel catches my eyes and gives a subtle shake of her head. I right my chair and continue to listen, but it takes every ounce of willpower I possess not to come to her aid.

“Mr. Harrington, I’d never say anything of the sort. The man is angry because I told him no.” Angel’s words are measured and matter-of-fact. She’s not getting worked up and I admire her cool demeanour.

“She’s a liar,” the customer shouts, and all three of his friends nod.

If I weren’t so furious over the situation, I’d laugh at them calling her a liar. Surely anyone who has been around her for more than five minutes knows that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Miss Blake, seeing as the man’s friends are all in agreement, I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave.”

I tighten my grip around my water glass and clench my teeth.

“For the day?” Her voice cracks, showing the first sign of emotion since the encounter started.

“No. You’re done here. And don’t bother asking for a reference. I won’t endorse anyone saying racist things to anyone.”

“Seriously? I’ve been here for two years without issue. You have always come to me when you needed an honest answer about something, and I’ve always given it. Now this guy’s feelings are hurt because I wouldn’t let him grab a handful, and you’re firing me over it?” She scoffs, and I’m two seconds away from interfering.

Something tells me my intervention wouldn’t help matters right now, but maybe I can speak to her manager to explain what happened when things cool down. She’s already getting attention from the other customers here and doesn’t need more.

“Pack up your things, Miss Blake. You’re finished here.”

She doesn’t turn back to face me, instead walking calmly into the kitchen and out of my sight.

The manager turns to apologize for the scene and tells everyone the situation has been handled after he offers the liars a discounted meal. I flag him over to my table, wanting to clear the air.

“Lovely to see you again, sir. I’m sorry about the scene. I assure you, this is not typical for our establishment.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me. You owe Miss Blake an apology. I watched the entire scene over there, and that man kept pawing at her. She told him to stop, and he got angry. She handled it the best way she could, and you fired her over it. Is that typical for your establishment?”

The bald man’s face reddens, and I think back to Angel’s words about him imbibing a little too often, so I can’t be sure if it’s alcohol- or anger-induced redness. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, sir. Miss Blake has been on thin ice because we’ve had issues in the past. Please, enjoy your meal.”

My appetite is gone. I’m furious. I want to punch all four of those guys in their smug faces and finish off the manager as a finale. Instead, I stand and make my voice as loud as possible without yelling. “No, sir. I won’t enjoy any meal here ever again. In fact, I encourage every customer here to walk out in protest over the way this situation was handled. You can expect a call from the labour board.”

I storm past the short man, bumping into his shoulder, and don’t wait to see if any other customers leave in solidarity. Honestly, I don’t expect them to, but it would have helped make a point.

What did he mean she’s had issues before? Have customers done this to her on other occasions? I know he has allowed the problems with the kitchen staff to go unresolved. Maybe he’s taken it personally because she hasn’t accepted his advances in the past. The thought makes me sick. It has nothing to do with my feelings for her; nobody should have to tolerate that.

I wait outside of Harvest for Angel to emerge, but she doesn’t by the time I have to return to work. I walk back with my head down, staring at my phone, hoping she’ll send me a message, but I can’t resist any longer.

Damian: Are you okay? I waited for you but have to get back to work.

I crash into a few pedestrians who grumble obscenities at me once I notice Angel left my message on read. She’s got bigger matters to deal with right now than replying to me.