She blushed and looked away.
“I apologize. I’m what I like to call... a sort of hands-off manager.”
“There’s really no need to apologize,” she said.
“That’s very kind of you. But tell me—why are you working here if you already work for me?”
Rosalyn’s mouth fell open. Was he serious? “Because you don’t pay your interns—that’s why.”
He looked surprised. “Ah.”
“I’m not complaining,” she added quickly, afraid of offending him. She needed a good evaluation so her faculty adviser would sign off on the internship for academic credit. “We do it for the hands-on experience. I didn’t expect to be paid.”
“Still...”
Rosalyn was eager to end this conversation—her break was over, and her manager would not be pleased to find her chatting in the hallway with a customer.
“That’s a lot, isn’t it?” Dash continued. “Working at my company during the day and serving drinks here at night. When do you find time to go to class, do homework, and get some sleep?”
“I make it work,” she said. “And speaking of work, I really need to get back to it. Excuse me, Mr. Acosta.”
“Call me Dash, please. Oh, excuse me—I’m in your way, aren’t I? I apologize,” he said with a smile, stepping aside. “No one should ever stand in your way.”
“Thanks.” She hurried back to the bar.
After Dash and Hugh left, Caitlyn, one of the other servers working that night, called Rosalyn over to give her a share of the tips. The restaurant’s custom was for the food servers to split their tips with the bartender, busser, and cocktail waitress.
“This is for you,” Caitlyn said, handing Rosalyn some cash. “Table three left me a huge tip—and specified that this”—she added another bill—“was for the ‘hardworking cocktail waitress.’”
Rosalyn stared at the bill. “Ahundreddollars?”
Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “Not bad for a round of cocktails.”
“Oh, I gave them more than a round of cocktails,” said Rosalyn.
“No way! IthoughtI saw you hanging out with one of them by the restrooms!” She lowered her voice. “What else? Do tell!”
“I kept their water glasses full, too.”
Caitlyn looked disappointed, then laughed. “C’mon, Super Server,” she said. “There’s a lot still to do before we can blow this joint.”
Rosalyn studied the crisp hundred-dollar bill, and smiled.
The next day, Dash caught Rosalyn asleep at her desk.
She hadn’t gotten home until after two in the morning, at which point she drank a strong cup of coffee, then spent three hours finishing her class project. Around dawn she tried to get a little sleep—which didn’t work, thanks to all the caffeine—before rushing off at ten o’clock for her first class of the day. By three her classes were over, and she headed to the winery for her internship. Business was slow, she was alone in the warm office, and... she nodded off, right there at her desk.
Slowly, Rosalyn came to consciousness, realizing with dread that someone was watching her.
“Oh, sweet Jesus... ,”she whispered under her breath.
“It’s Dash, actually. Looks like we should fit a cot in here for nap time.”
“I’m so, so,sosorry,” she said, surreptitiously wiping a little drool from the corner of her mouth and reaching for something, anything, to say that would make the situation better. “I was up late last night... and I’m... I’m just so sorry. I don’t have an excuse.”
“Sure you do,” he said, his voice kind. “You’re exhausted.”
“That’s no excuse.”
