And with that, the tension leaves my body. I don’t need this confrontation. I don’t need to tell Xavier off, to make a speech, to make a point that he’s not evolved enough to understand anyway. This isn’t about him. It’s about me realizing I deserve better than this.
But before I can spin on my heel and walk away, he keeps talking. “Well, it’s your lucky day because we’re short-staffed, and Rob Thurmond is here with a large party. For some reason, he seems to like you—” He follows that with another huff of disgust. “So, if you get changed and get your ass out there, I might not have you blackballed from every respectable restaurant in the city. And maybe if you do a very good job, I’ll let you come back to work.”
My skin crawls at the innuendo in very good job. And the absolute last thing I ever want to see again in my life is Rob’s florid face and beady little eyes.
But then I think of Rob’s hand on my leg and Xavier’s lips coming toward me. Of Kasumi enduring the same thing in silence. Of all the women out there in the dining room right now, serving Rob’s party or needing to stay late after work. I’m not special. If I walk out of here, it will be someone else who leans over to pour a glass of water and ends up with a hand on their ass. Or who goes in the pantry to refill the saltshakers and ends up cornered.
It turns out that a little confrontation isn’t looking so bad after all.
“Of course, sir,” I say with a smile. “I’d absolutely love to.”
An hour later, I’m in my server’s blouse, circling Rob’s table with a pitcher of water. I splash some into each glass and not a single person thanks me. I don’t think anyone even notices I’m there. It’s like their glasses magically filled themselves.
Rob is the exception. “Over here,” he demands with a wave of his hand. I approach cautiously, like he’s a burned pie I left in the oven, and quickly fill his glass. I can feel his eyes on me, sizing me up, and I brace for what he’s about to do, tightening my hand on the water pitcher in case I need a weapon. But then someone across the table calls to him, and he turns away to respond. I head to the bar to pick up a drink for one of the other diners.
As I stand at the bar waiting for the bartender to mix up my drink order, someone walks up behind me and grips my ass with a firm hand. “Hey, sweetheart.” Rob’s hot breath blows in my ear. “Get me a martini, will you?”
My entire body tenses, and I whirl around to face him. He’s standing so close I have to back up against the bar to keep his crotch from pressing up against my stomach. Rob rests one arm on the bar so I’d have to duck under it to escape. And even though I’ve been in this position before, even though I was expecting it this time, I’m horrified that it’s actually happening. I’m in shock that a man would have the audacity to treat a woman like this in a room full of servers, restaurant guests, and his friends. But he believes his power allows him to behave like this.
A sense of calm comes over me. I take a deep, cleansing breath and let it out slowly. “Did you say you wanted a martini?” I ask sweetly. I reach for the cocktail the bartender has just placed on the counter. “Here you go.” And then I pick up the glass, and I dump the contents all over his head.
And who would have guessed, but that’s all it takes to get his crotch out of my navel and his garlicky breath out of my face. He staggers backward, sputtering, right into a two-top where a couple is celebrating their first anniversary. The table tips backward, taking Rob down with it, and he lands with a crash in a pile of plates and glasses and three-tiered lemon raspberry cake. The anniversary couple spring to their feet as the entire dining room goes silent, all eyes on Rob flailing on the floor like an upended turtle in a puddle of lemon curd.
“Help me,” Rob croaks at the anniversary couple, holding out a sticky hand to the man towering over him in shock and awe. The man reaches out to help Rob to his feet as I approach.
“If you ever even think of groping me or anyone else at this restaurant again,” I say, my voice rising sharply. “I’ll have you arrested.”
The anniversary man’s wide eyes fly from Rob to my angry face. And then his gaze darkens as it swings back to Rob. In the next second, the man opens his hand and lets Rob go crashing back down to the floor. I’m delighted to see his ass land right on a dessert fork.
At this point, Xavier has come running into the dining room. “Sadie,” he hisses. “I should have known you’d be involved in this. What do you think you’re doing?”
Before I can tell him that what I’m doing is refusing to smile and look pretty while someone tries to sexually assault me, he turns to the crowded restaurant. “Folks,” he says in a booming voice, clapping his hands together. “I apologize for my employee’s unprofessional behavior. I’d like to offer dessert to everyone, on the house.”
“Unprofessional?” I push past him until I’m standing in the center of the dining room. “You know what’s unprofessional? Letting your customers casually grope the women who work for you because they throw their money around. You know what else is unprofessional? The owner of a restaurant trying to coerce his employee to have sex with him in exchange for a promotion.” I level my gaze at him so it’s clear exactly who I’m talking about.
Several people in the dining room gasp.
Xavier comes over and grabs my arm. I jerk away from him as one of the servers—Ethan—runs to my side. “Get your hands off her,” he barks.
I flash him a smile because I appreciate his help, even if I no longer need it.
“This woman is lying,” Xavier announces to the customers. “She’s bitter that she didn’t get a promotion, and she’s making this up.”
“Am I making it up, too?” a voice calls from the back of the restaurant. It’s Sonya, one of the servers. “Because you cornered me in the break room one night and implied I’d lose my job if I didn’t do what you wanted.”
“The same thing happened to me.” The bartender steps out from behind the bar.
Now Xavier is the one sputtering.
The woman from the anniversary couple turns to her companion. “This is disgusting. We’re leaving.” She marches away from the table, and I notice with great satisfaction that the heel of her shoe lands directly on Rob’s foot.
Across the room, another group stands up and tosses their napkins on the table. As they head for the door, several other tables of customers follow.
“Wait!” Xavier calls to the rapidly emptying room, but one by one each table gets to their feet and walks out. He turns to me. “You’re going to regret this.”
I shrug because Xavier can’t hurt me anymore. “Why?” I ask innocently. “Because I’ll never work in this town again?” I shrug. “I have a feeling I’m not the only one.”
And with that, I take a step over Rob—another clown on the floor, thanks to yours truly—and for the last time, I turn and walk out the door.
Chapter 39
Back at Higher Grounds, José Luis is making cappuccino and Kahlúa cocktails behind the bar, and Mrs. Kaminski is sitting in her usual spot at the counter. In front of her is a large glass with a straw, and José Luis keeps topping it off with whatever is left in the bottom of the mixer after he pours the customers’ drinks. When I arrive, he produces another glass and straw, and now I’m downing my own leftover cocktail.