“Whatever the one you ordered is,” I bark back. “Put the wine down and concentrate.”
Hayden takes the bowl from me and peers into the bowl. “Shrimp?”
“Me,” someone says. She puts the bowl down, and he keeps talking.
“Thank you,” I correct him.
He glances up.
“Manners are free,” I say.
“Fuck off, man,” he replies.
“What did you say?”
Hayden snatches the plate from me and puts it down. “This way,” she whispers as she pulls me away by the elbow. “What are you doing?” she whispers as she fakes a smile.
“This job is shit.”
“What are you talking about? It’s a great job.”
“Coming from someone who fist-fucks cows for a living, I don’t believe you’re qualified to call it,” I whisper angrily.
She looks around the restaurant. “Just walk around and clear the tables.”
“What’s that?”
“You said you did this before?”
“I lied.”
“Fucking hell,” she whispers. “Collect the dirty plates, and take them to the kitchen.”
“Okay.” I nod. “That’s a good plan.”
I walk over to a table. A man and woman are talking, his plate neatly packed up. I pick up his plate. “I’m not finished.” He snatches it off me.
“So why are your knife and fork together like that?”
“I was talking.”
“Less talking, more eating. I don’t have all night to wait for you, you know?” I march off.
“Excuse me,” someone calls as I walk past.
I turn to see the hottest woman I’ve seen all week. I smile. Finally . . . something good about this restaurant. “Yes.”
“Could you possibly get me an orgasm?”
“You have no idea,” I reply as I imagine myself bending her over the table.
She blinks. “As in cocktail?”
“Oh . . . right?” I fake a smile. I knew that. Damn it, I need to get laid.
I march to the bar and over to Basil. “Can you make me an Orgasm, please, for Miss Salacious at two o’clock?”
He glances over at her. “I don’t know how to make that.”
“You said you’ve done this before?”
“I lied.”
“Fucking hell. Google it.”
“I already tried. I have no service.”
“This is one colossal fuckup,” I whisper angrily. “The one person I am trying to impress, and you are completely fucking this up for me.”
“Go and ask her what’s in an Orgasm?”
“My fucking dick, that’s what. She’s smoking hot.” We both look over at her, sitting there in her tight black dress and her long dark hair. Another guy comes to work behind the bar. “What’s in an Orgasm cocktail?” I ask him.
He shrugs like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “I don’t know.”
“What?” I screw up my face. “How don’t you know? Aren’t you the barman? Isn’t there a manual or some shit behind there?”