Suddenly Tineke was there with the second tray of drinks, looking at him in concern but smiling for the customers, most of whom didn’t even know anything was wrong.It was too loud in Fatty’s for normal voices to carry far.
With Tineke’s help, Sam made it through distributing drinks, and even taking orders—she took the shadowy end of the table, which Sam refused to look at.She even whispered something into Juan Miguel’s ear in the kitchen, resulting in his growling and casting hateful glances toward the dining room.
Ian and that dick sitting next to him both got screwed up orders, and Juan Miguel’s normally attractive plating was sloppy.
The whole staff rallied around Sam, even Sheff, and Sam hadn’t known the man had a clue how to rally.In the end, the group containing Ian left without Sam having to speak with him again, or even meet his eyes.
Afterward, Tineke arranged most of their dinner break together.Sam didn’t know how she did it, but Sheff actually helped the other waitstaff when the bar wasn’t busy.
“Okay,” Tineke interrupted after listening for ten minutes to Sam whining about what had happened, how humiliated he was, and how he was now gettingpissed off, dammit.“Which pisses you off the most: him saying sorry for the sex, the chuckle, or him offering to take the drinks tray?”
She always asked the hard questions.Sam slumped back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and glared.
She laughed.“Dude, I’ve got a ten-year-old son.Do your worst.I can take it.”
There was only one reasonable response to that.Sam stuck out his tongue at her.
Sam made it through the rest of the night.By the time he helped Tineke shut the place down at eleven thirty, he felt tired, dispirited, and sick.Notreallysick, just the sort of sick he got when something icky happened in his life and he had to deal with it.Because what else was he going to do?He was a too-tall, too-skinny, not-very-attractive, very-obviously-gay dork.He had shit to deal with on occasion.So he dealt.
It was moments like this Sam wished he was a drinker.Or a runner.Maybe both.Not at the same time, though.
Tineke followed him out the back door, still talking at him.“C’mon, you don’t want to ride the bus home after a night like that.Let me give you a ride.”
“Don’t you need to get home to your kids?”
“My husband’s there.They’re fine.”
Sam stopped in the circle of the parking lot light at the employee entrance.He turned and squeezed Tineke’s shoulder.“Really, I just need to be alone.”
She wouldn’t believe him.Girls never believed anyone wanted to lick their wounds alone; females wanted to pet and coddle and share things.It drove Sam nuts.If he needed coddling and petting, he wanted a hot guy doing it.
But Tineke cocked her head and looked at him carefully.“You really would rather be alone, wouldn’t you?Okay, hon, but I expect you to feel better by your shift Saturday.All right?”
Sam was so surprised and relieved, he hugged her.She looked dazed when he let her go, and he felt sort of proud of himself for befuddling her.Bet her ten-year-old can’t do that.
Sam walked down to the bus stop at the dark end of Fatty’s parking lot and checked his watch.Five minutes until the bus arrived.If it was actually on time.He was just debating whether to sit on the bench in the shelter when Ian’s voice nearly made him jump out of his skin.
“Sam.”
He whirled around to see Ian step out of the shadows under a tree.He could just make out a pickup behind him.“Shit!What iswithyou?Can’t you lurk in well-lit areas so I know you’re there?My God.”
Ian stepped closer to the light.“Let me give you a ride home.”He was still wearing the suit, but he’d taken off his tie.Sam really hated how good he looked in those clothes, especially with the two top shirt buttons undone.Regardless, a tiny part of him patted itself on the back.I hooked up with him.
“No, I’m taking the bus.Go away, Ian.”
Ian looked at him silently for a long second.“Please.”Somehow, the way he said it, Sam got the feeling it wasn’t a word he often dusted off and put into use.
He hesitated.“No.”
“Sam.”
“Stop saying my name like that!Sheesh, you think that’s going to work?It’s not.Why do you even want to give me a ride home?We hooked up once because I was convenient, you know it andIknow it and I’m okay with that, so you can stop feeling guilty.Go away.”
“That’s not why I feel guilty,” Ian said, as if guys felt guilty all the time for how they treated Sam.Well, they did, but they usually weren’t such persistent apologizers.
Sam felt righteously annoyed, and surely when he opened his mouth, his brain would provide a scathing retort.“Do you have to sound soreasonable?You were a bastard.”
Miserable fail.
