bother to tell him about the incident. Peter was an effeminate-looking guy with sun-blond hair and a sprayed-on tan. He schmoozed customers like a real estate agent at an open house. His charm and civility poured over those from whom he stood to gain. With anyone else, he didn’t bother. Eddie Haskell’s malicious twin.
And for Joe, it just wasn’t a problem. He assigned her another smaller, less desirable table; it always generated less tips. She calculated how much further behind she would be in paying off the late notices, and what she might do about it, when the greeter seated a group of four at one her tables. No time to waste. Waitresses couldn’t afford revenge.
The night fell into rhythm, and toward the end of the shift, the pace finally hit neap tide. Three tables remained under Maggie’s watch. The restaurant no longer received new guests. Whether over dessert, or wine, or conversation, all three parties lingered. She attended to the tables sparingly as they needed nothing save a reason to go home.
She tallied a customer’s final bill at the computer screen in the alcove off the kitchen. Benito trudged toward her with a pan full of dirty dishes. Peter came up from behind him as Benito smiled her direction.
Peter caught Benito’s foot with his own.
Benito tipped forward and lost his grip on the heavy dishpan. It thudded to the floor. Unfinished drinks sprayed the walls. Glasses smacked down into rubble, their shards launching like tiny scuds. A mushroom cloud of food scraps spewed into the air. The accident created a mess that transcended floors and walls to reach ceiling-height. Benito fell face-first on the maple planks to avoid shrapnel.
Joe lumbered into the alcove. Peter’s smirk receded back into his thin, mean lips.
“Dammit, Benito,” Joe tried to suppress a screech. “That’s the fourth time this week.” He threw a towel onto the counter. “We spend more on dishes than we do you. Pack it up. You’re fired.”
Maggie stepped in front of Joe. “If you’re going to fire him let him earn it.”
“Stay out of this, Maggie. The kid’s not worth it.”
“This wasn’t his fault. Peter deliberately tripped him.”
Peter rocked back on his heels and crossed his arms. “Phshh. Maggie’s full of it. I didn’t trip him.”
Joe looked around the gathering crowd. “Did anyone see him trip Benito?”
“I’m the only one who saw it. He made sure of that.”
“Look Maggie, I know you and Peter don’t get along, but it’s your word against his.”
Benito rose from the floor, red spreading from his face to his neck, “And me. I don’t know who, but I got tripped like Maggie say.”
“I don’t think Pedro gets a vote, he’s just trying to save his own neck.”
Disgust lapped at her throat. “His name is Benito.”
Peter’s smirk returned. “Plus, he’s hot for Maggie. He’s been panting after her since day one. He’d say anything to get into her—”
She fisted her right hand and popped him straight in the nose. She didn’t hear the snap, only felt it. Peter collapsed to the floor, cradling his nose as it pooled with blood.
“Are you crazy?” His white shirt bloomed with crimson stains.
Joe stared at Maggie. “What the hell?”
“You fire her! Or I’m gonna sue!” Peter mispronounced the words, but everyone understood him, and no one was surprised.
“Shut up, Peter. You’re not suing anybody. But, Maggie. What the hell?”
“Fire her!”
“Shut up!” Joe leaned against the wall. “Maggie. I know the man’s a joke, but what the hell?”
Her hand still clenched. All eyes stared at the crazy woman.
He swiped his wet brow with the back of his sleeve. “Morgan, get out there and take care of our customers. Sammy, go make an ice pack. Denesha, get this jackass a bandage. Maggie and Benito, follow me.” Joe glowered down at the bleeding waiter. “When are you going to learn to keep your stupid mouth shut?”
Fifteen minutes later Joe escorted Maggie
And for Joe, it just wasn’t a problem. He assigned her another smaller, less desirable table; it always generated less tips. She calculated how much further behind she would be in paying off the late notices, and what she might do about it, when the greeter seated a group of four at one her tables. No time to waste. Waitresses couldn’t afford revenge.
The night fell into rhythm, and toward the end of the shift, the pace finally hit neap tide. Three tables remained under Maggie’s watch. The restaurant no longer received new guests. Whether over dessert, or wine, or conversation, all three parties lingered. She attended to the tables sparingly as they needed nothing save a reason to go home.
She tallied a customer’s final bill at the computer screen in the alcove off the kitchen. Benito trudged toward her with a pan full of dirty dishes. Peter came up from behind him as Benito smiled her direction.
Peter caught Benito’s foot with his own.
Benito tipped forward and lost his grip on the heavy dishpan. It thudded to the floor. Unfinished drinks sprayed the walls. Glasses smacked down into rubble, their shards launching like tiny scuds. A mushroom cloud of food scraps spewed into the air. The accident created a mess that transcended floors and walls to reach ceiling-height. Benito fell face-first on the maple planks to avoid shrapnel.
Joe lumbered into the alcove. Peter’s smirk receded back into his thin, mean lips.
“Dammit, Benito,” Joe tried to suppress a screech. “That’s the fourth time this week.” He threw a towel onto the counter. “We spend more on dishes than we do you. Pack it up. You’re fired.”
Maggie stepped in front of Joe. “If you’re going to fire him let him earn it.”
“Stay out of this, Maggie. The kid’s not worth it.”
“This wasn’t his fault. Peter deliberately tripped him.”
Peter rocked back on his heels and crossed his arms. “Phshh. Maggie’s full of it. I didn’t trip him.”
Joe looked around the gathering crowd. “Did anyone see him trip Benito?”
“I’m the only one who saw it. He made sure of that.”
“Look Maggie, I know you and Peter don’t get along, but it’s your word against his.”
Benito rose from the floor, red spreading from his face to his neck, “And me. I don’t know who, but I got tripped like Maggie say.”
“I don’t think Pedro gets a vote, he’s just trying to save his own neck.”
Disgust lapped at her throat. “His name is Benito.”
Peter’s smirk returned. “Plus, he’s hot for Maggie. He’s been panting after her since day one. He’d say anything to get into her—”
She fisted her right hand and popped him straight in the nose. She didn’t hear the snap, only felt it. Peter collapsed to the floor, cradling his nose as it pooled with blood.
“Are you crazy?” His white shirt bloomed with crimson stains.
Joe stared at Maggie. “What the hell?”
“You fire her! Or I’m gonna sue!” Peter mispronounced the words, but everyone understood him, and no one was surprised.
“Shut up, Peter. You’re not suing anybody. But, Maggie. What the hell?”
“Fire her!”
“Shut up!” Joe leaned against the wall. “Maggie. I know the man’s a joke, but what the hell?”
Her hand still clenched. All eyes stared at the crazy woman.
He swiped his wet brow with the back of his sleeve. “Morgan, get out there and take care of our customers. Sammy, go make an ice pack. Denesha, get this jackass a bandage. Maggie and Benito, follow me.” Joe glowered down at the bleeding waiter. “When are you going to learn to keep your stupid mouth shut?”
Fifteen minutes later Joe escorted Maggie
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