Working here reminded me far too much of my childhood. The stressful, chaotic environment with two bosses who refused to listen to me. If I ever got to open my own place like I wanted to, I’d do everything within my power to ensure nobody felt like I did. But I’d never make it anywhere else in the world, so why try?
Sleep tugged at my eyes, forcing my eyelids to droop and my vision to blur. I was close to collapsing on my feet when a plate got thrown myway, a hurried mumbling about pink chicken being the only explanation I got.
The grief and repeated restless nights mixed into a dangerous concoction, building up in my head until I thought it might explode. I forced my eyes closed for a moment, shutting the noise out from around me.
It was all too fucking loud, and I couldn’t stand it. The shouting, the clank of pans, the whoosh of fire, the sizzle of the grill. I hated it all, and I couldn’t escape it. I was trapped. Stuck in my head, letting my soul roam aimlessly around until the beautiful and scarred man from the other night came to mind.
Images of him falling into my touch danced in front of my closed eyelids, bringing a sweet, melancholy feeling with them. I thought about how he’d admitted my gentle ministrations were better, directly juxtaposing the life he apparently enjoyed living.
Deep down, I knew I was in no position to judge or dictate how someone lived their life. I saw the anguish on his face, though. I saw the way it melted away the moment he realized I had no intention of hurting him.
Then, I remembered how he’d stormed out. Ice cascaded down his skin, forming a cage around him as his face pinched together in anger. I both regretted and was grateful I hadn’t gone after him. On one hand, I wanted to know what had scared him so badly. On the other hand, I knew if I’d gotten closer to him and asked, he would’ve freaked even more.
Too many things all at once. Tobias’s grill erupted into flames, sizzling and flashing dangerously right as Callum yelled something across the room, and Jackson dropped the metal pan he was cleaning. The pan hit the ground, banging loudly and echoing across the room.
Broken, arctic blue eyes stared at me in my mind. The man’s yell matched the pitch of the fallen pan, rattling through my chest just as much.
My arm began to tingle, an itch forming just below the ditch. The feeling rose with the chaos in the kitchen. I needed it all to stop, but I didn’t want to yell. I didn’t want to hear my voice echo off the walls. I didn’t want to hear my father in my tone.
I turned on my heel, facing everyone’s station. There was so much Iwanted to say. So many things I needed to correct. Words ran their course in my mind, far too fast for me to reach up and catch them.
The itching got worse as I stood, my fingers begging to scratch it. A tightness began in my chest, constricting more and more until the person I hated the most came through my voice, and none of the kinder words I’d thought of made it out. “Keep fucking up and you’re all fired!” I cringed immediately, but I couldn’t stop. “I am this close”—I put my pointer finger and thumb together, leaving no space between them—“to losing my shit on all of you. I need a moment to get my head on straight. I hope I can trust you all to do your job well enough to not get disqualified for unemployment while I’m gone.”
Not waiting for a response, I set my towel down on a random counter and stormed out. My lungs were caving in on themselves, slowly wrinkling with ignored cries for fresh air. I was determined as I marched through the hall, my breaths heaving and sweat dripping from my forehead straight into my eyes. They burned, watering from the dirty salt, yet I made no move to wipe them.
I could see the exit so clearly. It mocked me, the sign above the door flickering in quick pulses. I stood, feet stuck to the ground, as a new obstacle stood before me. Brandt’s office was a few feet from the door to my escape, and his swung wide open.
With my luck, he’d see me pass by and start something with me. Right now, any conversation I had with him would be unprofessional at best.
There wasn’t much time to make a decision. I could either walk past, get bombarded with questions and demands, or risk going through the front door where customers could see and potentially bother me.
In the end, I decided to risk getting caught by a thousand customers rather than having to deal with Brandt’s bullshit. With a huff, I turned my back to the exit and strode to the front. I grumbled under my breath, spewing profanities to myself as I peeled my outer jacket off my shoulders.
My uniform was too hot with the fire swarming inside of me. I thought the closer I got to the front, the more I’d cool down. I was wrong, of course. The urgency to get out only picked up, swimming until the bones under my skin vibrated with screams.
By the time I reached the dining area, my vision was blurry, and Ihad no idea what was up from down. I was ready to grovel on my knees to the Devil himself. I was a flash of a person, bobbing and weaving desperately through the tables, looking for the best path to the exit.
I must’ve been to the point of hallucinating because I could have sworn I saw Pretty Boy chatting it up with a modelesque woman.
Eating.
In my restaurant.
I stopped dead in my tracks, almost bumping into a busy server. Thinking it might be the sweat in my eyes, I blinked a few times and wiped them with the back of my hand. When the room came back into view and he was still there, I realized I wasn’t quite losing it yet.
After another annoyed server huffed at me, I moved out of the way, momentarily warring with my mind and legs. I should’ve made my way towards the front door. The man made it pretty clear he didn’t want or expect to see me again.
“Fuck you for ever showing me what kindness felt like.”
His voice, crisp and shaky with fear, rang through my mind. The snarl that crossed his lips as he spat straight poison at me. I knew the look on his face. I had the same one many times before in my life. It was a look of earth-shattering pain. The type you try to pretend isn’t there. I knew it so intimately, I was helpless to the pull of my body as I walked closer to the table.
I was just out of sight, hidden from him and the woman seated in front of him. He looked better today, the waves on his head neatly tamed, though the color was still faded carelessly. I only saw his side profile, but I couldn’t see any new wounds on his face.
What surprised me the most was the genuine smile painting the same lips that had scowled at me. He held me captive under the LED lightning, the same he did on the dim street corner, or in the shitty motel lobby I’d seen him first.
The woman in front of him was laughing at something he said, her hair flying behind her shoulders as she threw her head back. She was painfully beautiful, her lips colored a deep red that matched a few streaks in her curly, otherwise dark hair. She wore her looks well, holding her head up high. Who was she to him?
I had no right to wonder that. The way he licked his lips after sipping on some sort of tea we offered lured me further and further. He worea plain gray tee, his similarly colored jacket open, one side hanging off his shoulder.
