Part 21 (2/2)

”You've succeeded in grossing me out and that's not easy to do. Now I won't be able to get the picture of you making out with Mr. Finch out of my mind all night.” We all laughed. ”I'll be obsessed with the details,” he went on. ”Does he leave the dentures in or do you lovingly remove them for him, dropping them onto the nightstand before you ravage him?”

”Ugh, enough. Leave my Mr. Finch alone,” I said, holding back giggles. I sobered then. ”Really, though, he's such a lovely person. He's always telling me about Mrs. Finch. It's sad how much he misses her. My heart breaks watching him eat alone.”

”You're such a softie, Carolyn,” Connie said, smiling warmly at me as she stood up and started clearing our plates.

By seven o'clock the four of us were running on auto-pilot, a well-oiled machine. I served my early-bird regulars, like Mr. Finch, who always ate the same thing, week after week: hot antipasti, veal parmigiana with spaghetti, slice of cheesecake for desert. I didn't even give customers like him a menu; they appreciated the familiarity of La Viola, that we knew them like family. As usual, the later crowd brought both familiar and unfamiliar faces.

Nights like this, you didn't let your mind wander. You focused on details: drop salads on table twelve, a couple was just seated at three-get their drink order, the large group at five needs more bread. Keep working, keep moving.

When the hostess pa.s.sed me and said, ”I just seated you two new four-tops...tables eight and three,” I took it in stride. I wrote down the dinner order from an older couple that was seated first and then made my way over to get drink orders and recite the specials.

I went to the first table, parents with their two teen-aged daughters, and then made my way towards the other table, two couples. The two girls were facing me and look slightly annoyed as I approached. ”Hi, welcome to La Viola,” I said, looking down to find the pen that had decided to go AWOL in the depths of my ap.r.o.n. ”Can I get you something to drink while you look at the menu?”

”That would be nice,” the girl closest to me said-a little sarcastically, I might add. What the h.e.l.l? The hostess said they'd just been seated and you could see the place was jammed. I smiled and met her eyes. Kill them with kindness, the customer is always right-yeah, all that other c.r.a.p. ”I'll have a Cosmo,” she said, dismissing me. Of course you will, you sophisticated gal, I mused.

I looked to the redhead next to her. ”And what can I get you?” I asked, taking both girls in. They were attractive. Cosmo girl was especially pretty but she kind of ruined the effect by wearing an obscenely low-cut top. Trying too hard.

Her friend was indecisive-tick-tock, tick-tock. I was looking behind her, checking my other tables and gesturing to Sal to clear my six-top, which looked ready to order desert. ”Um, I'm not sure,” the girl said absently, nibbling on her lower lip between each word. ”I'll give you my drink order when you come back.” Great, two trips to the bar.

”And what can I get you guys?” I asked. When I looked up from my pad, I saw two wide-eyed people who looked mighty uncomfortable. Make that three of us. ”Frank...Jeremy...um, hi.”

”Hey, Carolyn,” Frank spoke first. Shaking his head and smiling kindly, he asked, ”How have you been?” He glanced to Jeremy nervously when he added, ”I didn't know you worked here.”

From Jeremy's tight expression, it was obvious that he wouldn't have come within ten miles of this place had he known I was here. ”Yep,” I answered. ”I've been here for a few months.” A brief, awkward silence ensued. ”What can I get you guys to drink? And sorry for the wait,” I said, looking to the very busty chick who was now eyeing me with curious suspicion. ”It's really busy tonight.”

”That's no problem,” Jeremy said, recovering. ”I'll have a Bud.”

”Me too,” Frank added. He looked to the girl across from him; I gathered that one was his. ”Do you know what you want, Sadie?”

I'm thinking maybe my name registered with her, although I was certain I'd never met her. Her eyes were cold as she looked me over. ”I'll have vodka with grapefruit juice.”

Usually this is when I'd say, ”I'll be right back with those,” but I didn't have any intention of waiting on them. No way. I put in the bar order and then made a bee-line for the kitchen, where I was planning on asking Connie to cover them for me. She was in the middle of a full-on brawl with Marco, yelling that she did, in fact, alert him that the lady at table one had a sh.e.l.lfish allergy. I grabbed the baked clams my two-top was waiting for and approached Nicholas on my way out onto the floor. ”Nick, can you take the four-top on eight for me?”

”No can do. Just had a party of ten seated. Sorry.”

I was desperate enough to ask Sal, our lowly runner, knowing full well that putting him on a table with two sets of b.o.o.bs prominently displayed was a recipe for disaster. I didn't care. Just as I approached, though, a woman slid her chair out unexpectedly, knocking into Sal, causing him to drop a plate of mussels marinara. I turned at the sound of the plate cras.h.i.+ng onto the marble floor.

I had no choice but to face Jeremy...and his date.

Deep calming breath, Carolyn. In and out, in and out. Recite the specials, take their order, drop the check and you're done. You'll spend no more than five actual minutes in their presence.

I was back to giving myself pep talks.

”Here you are,” I said as I served their drinks. I rambled off the specials as quickly as I could. ”Have you had a chance to look over the menu or should I give you a few more minutes?”

Jeremy looked up and met my eyes briefly before looking back down at his menu, studying like he was cramming for the bar exam. ”A few minutes, if that's ok.”

”Yick! This is so sour!” Jeremy's babe made a puckered face. ”There's too much...something in this. It tastes nasty. Here,” she said, pouty faced, pus.h.i.+ng the drink forward, ”you taste it Jeremy.” She looked up to me, her tone short as she said, ”I think you got the order wrong.”

Jeremy eyed her evenly. ”I've never had one of those. I wouldn't know if the bartender made it right or not, Kenzie.”

Kenzie...ugh. Hate that name. Actually, I like the name, I just have a strong dislike for this bossy, b.i.t.c.hy, but...very pretty girl...Ugh! f.u.c.k me, I thought. Realizing my mind was scrambling, I took another deep breath and repeated my fight song: Get yourself together, Carolyn. You can do this.

”Don't worry about it.” Calm, cool as a cuc.u.mber Carolyn was back. ”That is a Cosmopolitan, though, so maybe I should just bring you something else.” I felt like dumping it over her head but I kept my smile even and as sincere as humanly possible. Of course she took her sweet time deciding. When I glanced up I saw my other table looking at me expectantly. That other four-top had not even gotten bread yet. I snagged Sal. ”Get table three's appetizer order and bring them bread right away.”

”I guess I'll have a vodka cranberry,” she murmured, pouting.

”Be right back.” Service with a smile, b.i.t.c.h.

I took my other tables' orders, dropped a check and then came back with Kenzie's drink. ”Hope you like this one better,” I said as I placed it in front of her. Jeremy still seemed to be staring at the same section of the menu. Guess this was no picnic for him either.

She reached over, practically resting her D cups on the table, and stroked the top of Jeremy's hand, asking, ”What looks good to you, Jeremy?” The gesture was familiar and intimate. I gathered that he knew what Kenzie looked like naked. But I also thought the gesture was somewhat forced-she wanted me to know Jeremy was hers. I'd brought out her territorial instincts.

He looked to me instead, moving his hand away from hers as he raised his menu, pointing to an item. I'll have this one: the pacific grouper over-”

He stalled before attempting the next words: tagliatelli with porcini mushroom ragout.

I nodded, jumping in, noting his order. ”-I got it. You'll like that. The fish just came in this afternoon and the chef does a really great porcini mushroom sauce for the pasta.”

His eyes met mine briefly. It wouldn't have been obvious to anyone else, but something pa.s.sed between us: acknowledgement, a sense of grat.i.tude, shared understanding...our shared past. Recognition that I knew he was struggling to read those words before anyone else noticed and that I'd covered for him.

I s.h.i.+fted my gaze to Frank before I allowed myself to get emotional. ”I'll have that ravioli special, Carolyn.”

Frank's girl went with the chicken parm, no pasta, side of broccoli rabe. Great, moving right along. And then? We weren't. Kenzi scanned her menu indolently, taking her sweet time. ”Do you want me to give you another minute?” I asked.

”No,” she said, dismissing me again. c.o.c.king her head and fixing him with a look that said: I need help from my man, she asked, ”Jeremy, would you get the shrimp scampi or the manicotti?”

”Depends on what you're in the mood for.”

”I can't decide.” Kenzie's pouty lips were back in place, her voice taking on that little-girl quality that some people find cute. I myself found it nauseating.

She studied the menu choices again. It was like watching a snail cross a hot, wide stretch of deserted highway.

Jeremy stretched his collar away from his neck, his unease palpable. ”The shrimp sounds good, Kenz,” he offered, prompting her. He didn't sound annoyed or impatient. The gentle tone Jeremy took with her led me to believe he had feelings for this girl-cue the knife twisting into my gut.

”All set?” I asked weakly.

”Yep,” she said as she beamed her bright, white smile directly at Jeremy, ”I'll go with the shrimp.”

I left them then and didn't approach the table again, save for one last time to ask them if they needed anything else before I dropped their check. I made sure that Sal delivered their entrees, asked if their food was ok, and refreshed their drinks. I focused all the mental energy I could muster towards my other tables.

But I was dying inside, just a little bit more every minute.

I stole looks at their table-at Jeremy and Kenzie in particular. She seemed very happy and totally into him. I couldn't read him, though. He didn't seem content and enamored like Frank did with his girl. But maybe he was just holding back, messed up and made uncomfortable by my presence-with the past rearing its ugly head.

Ambus.h.i.+ng Jeremy at the coffee shop tomorrow morning? My quest for a reunion or, at the very least, closure? Um...not happening...mission aborted.

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