As I focus back on placing potatoes and parsley on the plates moving past, I try to perfect my delivery.
People are moving quickly, and there is barely time to smile and take in faces. People are clean, friendly, and thankful, and someone has put music on.
As I go to put another dollop of creamy potatoes on a fresh plate, I notice a navy suit behind it in the distance.
“What the—” I say, splashing potatoes all over the ground.
It’s him!
Him, him, and he’s now talking to our cooking supervisor. I can tell she’s buying
whatever he is selling, and my stomach tightens fast. I don’t like it! When she laughs and flicks her long hair, I clench my teeth tight. “Oh, shit!”
“Honey, are you gonna hit me or what?” I look down and hit the plate hard with potatoes. “And what about parsley?”
The person gets a distracted handful, and they move on, grumbling.
I watch the suited intruder, who removes his jacket and makes a comment. The supervisor laughs and starts to look playful.
“Bastard,” I mumble, “do not buy it!”
Suddenly, the supervisor nods, turns, and points our way.
“Oh, God,” I growl as he steps out of the kitchen. He then disappears in the crowd as he walks behind us busy servers.
I am close to panicking, and I prepare to flee.
Before I can move, Harry is standing next to me, and my heart pounds out of step. As Harry assists the old gravy server, she shuffles away from me.
The woman has stepped the wrong way, and no one should stand next to him.
No one!
We look at each other, and I have hatred in my eyes.Pure hatred.
Somebody clicks their fingers loudly, and it shakes us out of it fast. “Are y’gonna serve me, pretty boy?”
Grumpy smiles and hits the plate with gravy.
I shake my head, cursing the universe. “Please, God. No!” I say low.
The next person in line is old Marge. Marge The Card. I hit her with potatoes and parsley, then I force a smile.
“Thanks, honey.”
Marge sees Grumpy next to me, and she slows. She then flicks her imaginary long hair and tries to flirt. Kill me now. “Now, who are you, cutey?”
“I’m taken,” Grumpy says flatly and without emotion.
“By who?”
I know he can’t say me. No way!
“Her,” Grumpy says, motioning my way.
“The hell he is!” I huff out fast. “He’s just the gravy guy.”
As I hit the next plate with potatoes, Grumpy leans towards Marge. He then whispers low, “I’m her man, and I’m getting her back.”
