“—accept option one? Excellent choice.” I smiled tightly. “Please wait in the bathroom. I’ll radio for your shirt, and Angelo will bring itto you along with his apologies. Your credit will be good at the bar for the next two hours. Thank you so much for your understanding.”
He looked like he might explode. He opened his mouth twice to say something, then on the third attempt got out, “Do you know who I am?”
Oh, God! He’s one of those.“I do not,” I said, recovering fully from my earlier shock, but still not quite done with my anger. “I’m given a daily list of VIPs, and I assure you—you’re not on it. Please wait in the bathroom.”
I waited for his response. When it came, it was exactly as I’d predicted.
He turned on his heel and stormed out. Out of the restaurant. Out of the hotel. Out of my life.
I hated confrontations, but the job had made me good at them. I silently reproved myself for falling for those eyes and that smile. Either one on their own, I would have been fine; together... I shook it off. Live and learn. It was a good reminder; not all handsome men are gentlemen.
Pushing through the swinging door, I quickly glanced around the restaurant to see whether anyone had heard. The collective rolling of eyes, the shared smirks, and the mass of wordless admiration for my professional integrity—oh yes, they’d heard.
Mr. Gardner, who was a regular at the bar for his meetings, stopped me on my way round the bar to the staff office. “For a second there, it sounded like you were going to slap him.”
I laughed. “For a second there, I thought so too.”
He grinned and patted my shoulder before heading off to one of his so-called ‘meetings’.
I strode through the staff door to find Angelo hunched over in tears in the kitchen. A cluster of concerned banquet staff were huddled around, offering napkins and sympathy, but he was inconsolable.
Angelo was fifty-eight years old, with luscious salt-and-pepper hair, soft brown eyes, and hands that were still strong and sturdy. He’d been working for the hotel for over ten years. His loyalty and work ethic made him a respected head server at this prestigious hotel and atrainer to many of the younger servers who’d come in for summer internships and school co-op programs.
“I’m sorry, Nyah,” he said. “I didn’t know he was behind the door.” His bow tie was slightly crooked, but the rest of his uniform was immaculate.
“Don’t worry about it, Angelo. I know you wouldn’t do anything like that on purpose. He’s just a rude, insignificant man.” A quick squeeze made his shoulders relax. I left him in the capable hands of his colleagues.
I reflected on Mr. Do-you-know-who-I-am. Where had I seen him before?He looks so familiar... his eyes... the same blue-green.
Reaching my office, I looked at the photograph of my son. His toothless smile always melted my heart. The fact that he wouldn’t be there when I got home almost broke it. He had begged me for my approval to attend summer camp, but the duration of his stay put me off. Emotions started to overwhelm me. I put the photograph away in my desk and decided to call him.
Waiting for the camp leader to pick up, I walked around the office, enjoying the scent of lilies floating through the air. After signing the hotel’s floral contract, the store owner, Maria, guaranteed a fresh bouquet every week as a thank-you.
“Hello, Ms. Rodriguez,” Sonya, the camp counsellor, answered. “Would you like to speak to Lucas?”
“Yes, please.”
Two seconds later, I heard Lucas’ chirpy voice. “We just reached camp, Mama.”
Hearing his voice eased the restless anxiety in my heart. “Did you eat your sandwich and crackers?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Did you drink your water?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Don’t forget to say your prayers and brush your teeth, okay?”
A sigh. “I promise I won’t. Now, can I please go and play?”
“Okay, baby. Have fun. I love you.”
“I love you too, Mama!”
Before I could say anything else, Sonya came back on the line. “Don’t worry, Ms. Rodriguez. I’ll take care of him, and I’ll make sure to send you pictures and updates regularly.”
“Thanks, Sonya.” I played with the pendant on my chain. “And it’s Nyah, not Ms. Rodriguez.”
