Peter, Freddie, and Rina are still gathering up their things. Eden’s not five feet away.
“Shit,” Peter sighs. “I need a drink. I need three drinks.”
“I think O’Malley’s might still be open,” Rina notes.
“That sounds really tempting,” Freddie adds, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Hey, Eden? Feel like grabbing a drink with us?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Alexander can see her smile politely. How she has the energy to be amicable is beyond him.
“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t drink,” she says. “And I have to be getting home, anyways.”
Rina pumps her eyebrows. “Got a boyfriend at home waiting for you?”
Eden just laughs.
Alexander doesn’t understand why the lack of an answer bothers him. He’s probably just irritable because—yeah—fuck this night. His feet are killing him, his headache is in full force, and he just wants to—as Samuel L. Jackson famously once put it—go the fuck to sleep.
“Oh, well. Maybe next time, then.” Freddie turns and grins at Hector. “Feel like tagging along?”
Hector slings the strap of his bag over his shoulder, grumbling a string of profanities under his breath that Alexander doesn’t quite catch. He bumps into Eden on his way out, not bothering to apologize. When he passes Alexander by the door, Hector sneers, but doesn’t look him in the eye.
“What’s his problem?” Eden asks, slipping out of her chef jacket. It’s covered in stains, and there are several loose threads at the seams.
Alexander notes that she doesn’t seem to have a sweater or anything to put on, just her tank top and then her winter coat, which is in a similar state of disrepair like her work uniform. She really is just skin and bones. He briefly wonders if she managed to eat on her break. But the thought is immediately followed up with,she’s an adult, she can take care of herself.
“Ignore him,” Rina says to Eden. “Hector’s just bitter that he didn’t get his promotion to sous.”
Eden blinks. “Oh.”
Alexander sighs loudly. “Less talk. More walking.”
He finally manages to usher everybody out the door. If he shuts it harder than necessary, nobody says anything. They exchange quick goodbyes and well wishes for good nights. Alexander doesn’t stick around long enough to be extended an invitation for drinks, not that he expects to receive one. Not that he would care to join, either way. These are his employees. He’s the boss.
They’re not friends.
Freddie, Peter, and Rina depart in the opposite direction, throwing waves over their shoulders.
“I want you here two hours early tomorrow,” he says to Eden before she can escape into the night.
“Again?”
“Got a problem with that?”
Eden chews on the inside of her cheek and glances down at her shoes. Her shoes are filthy and run-down. “No problem at all.”
Alexander leaves it at that and heads to his car. His black Audi is parked in the same spot it always is: the back corner stall at the very back of the restaurant’s parking lot. He lets out a long, deep breath the second he’s in the driver’s seat and the door’s shut behind him. It feels good to sit down for the first time in hours.
“Christ,” he grumbles to himself, closing his eyes.
He reviews the events of tonight’s service like a play-by-play, determining where they went wrong and how he can fix things for tomorrow.
Drenton’s still undercooking his plates. It’s either borderline carelessness, or he’s really losing his touch. Alexander’s sure to have words with Drenton later. Rina and Freddie were behind for most of the night, and Alexander suspects it’s because they’re too damn chatty for their own good. He might have to put them in different sections if they keep distracting each other. Hector is a miserable little weasel, as per usual, but at least he knows he can handle the pressure.
Eden surprised him tonight.
Clumsy at times, a force to be reckoned with at others. She wasn’t afraid to stand up to him, which was both inexplicably frustrating and refreshing at the same time. He wonders what surprises tomorrow will bring.
Alexander opens his eyes and prepares to twist the key in the ignition. He stops short when he spots Eden on the other side of the street, standing at the bus stop near the curb. The bus shows up not five seconds later—the last one of the night—opening its doors wide for her. The vehicle leaves and then she’s gone.
