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“What do you have to lose?”

“She has a boyfriend,” I mumble. There’s a churning in my gut and I can’t help but wonder if I’m more disappointed that she won’t do the pro-am with me, or that she’s in a relationship with a dickhead man-child.

“I doubt it’s anything serious,” he says.

I scowl and lean in, making sure no one else can hear us. “Are you suggesting I go out with someone who’s in a relationship? Don’t tell me you forgot how I feel about cheating,” I say, cheeks flaming with anger.

Ezra leans back and looks at me with wide blue eyes. “No, of course not, I’d never suggest that. I just meant—you don’t really know much about her, so you can’t know about her relationship. Unless you ask.”

I swallow down my anger and lean back when I notice Rosie walking over, two Manhattans in hand. Ezra notices and turns his head towards her, giving her a smile. She smiles back but doesn’t see the other waiter, Xander, walking with a stack of plates in his arms.

Food and liquid go flying everywhere when the two of them collide. Rosie falls to her knees and Ezra rushes out of his chair to help her up.

Despite not liking the guy, I ask Xander, “You all right?”

“Stupid bitch,” he mumbles, sneering at Rosie. He quickly schools his features when he realizes who I am. “Fine, thank you, sir.”

My fingers close in a tight fist. I’d love nothing more than to tell this guy he needs to respect the women he works with. First, he yells at Hazel, now he calls Rosie names. Who the fuck does he think he is?

“How about you find a mop, yeah?” I say in a cold tone, matching his sneer.

Xander startles at my command but walks away.

Ben shows up, takes one look at Rosie on the floor, Ezra’s arm around her shoulder to help her up, and says, “Martin, a moment?”

With tears in her eyes, Rosie shrugs Ezra off and quickly stands, following Ben. Ezra moves to follow but I stop him with an arm across his chest.

“Don’t get involved,” I mutter under my breath.

“I won’t do anything. I’m only gonna check on her,” Ezra says, walking after her anyway.

I groan and look around. The whole restaurant is staring. I nod around at a couple of people who meet my gaze and awkwardly walk around the mess on the floor to follow my friend.

We walk down the hallway that leads to a room with lockers. Must be some kind of employee or storage room. The voices inside are getting progressively louder as we approach.

Ezra and I slow our steps and look through the door, which was left ajar. Rosie stands in front of Ben, arms crossed and head down as he berates her about the broken dishes. From my spot in the hall, I can see the exit door parallel to this one. It opens, and Hazel walks in. She stops short when she hears the argument.

“Are you that stupid, Martin? Do you know how many plates you’ve broken this month alone? I should fire you for this,” Ben seethes.

“Hey!” Hazel raises her voice, startling Ben. She marches over to him and somehow manages to look down on him, even though he’s taller. “That’s enough. You can’t talk to her like that, no matter how many plates she broke. Accidents happen.”

Ben stands up taller and huffs, pointing between Hazel and Rosie. “I can’t wait to fire you two.”

“Go ahead, then. I wonder if anything will get done around here when we’re gone, seeing as we’re the only ones willing to work overtime and cover all the shifts,” Hazel says with confidence, crossing her arms over her chest and staring him down.

The corners of my lips lift in satisfaction at her response. Ezra shoots me a glance.

Ben takes a step back and balls his fists in anger. He looks ridiculous, his forehead crinkling and his cheeks red from anger. I need to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

“This isn’t over, Thomas. And those plates and food are coming out of your paycheck, Martin,” he says and spins on his heels.

I grab Ezra and pull him aside, out of Ben’s path. Thankfully, Ben doesn’t even glance our way. He walks in the opposite direction down the hall and back to the restaurant.

“Come on,” I say, “before we get caught here.”

I expect him to fight me on it and go talk to Rosie, but he doesn’t. He follows me outside and fishes his phone out of his pocket, sending out a text. To Rosie, I assume.

“What do we do now?” he asks, looking at me like I might have the answer.