Chapter 5: The Tip

                                    

                                          
My hands trembled as I tried to pour the bourbon without spilling it everywhere. The bottle slipped from my grasp, but I caught it before there could be a disaster.
                          
"You need help with that?" Tony asked, grinning as he leaned against the bar observing my giddiness. 
                          
My paranoid self snuck a glimpse at the reappeared mystery man, nervous if he would pick up on my unease from across the dining room. 
                          
"No," I told him, trying again and finally pouring it with accuracy. I dumped the measured drink into a clean glass and dried my sweaty hands on a bar towel. 
                          
I carried the liquor to his table, carefully calculating each of my steps. When I was nervous, I became clumsy, and almost always embarrassed myself by either saying or doing something stupid. To try and ease my mind, I focused on the calmness of the restaurant. The atmosphere was more reserved since it was going on eight o'clock; it was also a Tuesday night. 
                          
The man lifted his chin and smiled when he noticed his drink oncoming. He reached out to take it, instead of me setting it down in front of him, and as he did his fingers brushed mine. I hovered on the moment a little too long, and suddenly retracted my hands back. I could feel my face burning with embarrassment. 
                          
"Would you like anything else?" I asked, holding my breath to mask any shakiness. 
                          
His dark eyes surveyed mine, all while holding on to that gorgeous smirk of his. "No, thank you. I appreciate you remembering my arduous order."
                          
I let out a meek, nervous chuckle and responded, "It's no trouble at all." 
                          
Stupid. You can think of something better than that.
                          
"Whatever you need, just let me know," I concluded in a more sultry tone. My eyes lingered on his for one more second, then I turned and left.
                          
No! That was even worse!
                          
I power walked to the kitchen to hide, and was met by Angela scolding a newly hired waiter.
                          
"Do you understand me? There was no excuse tonight to deliver the wrong order to table three. There were two people there and you took three plates. What the hell was going through your head?"
                          
I slipped behind the preparation station and over towards the dishwashing section, where another new hire, Yu-jin, was finishing up from the dinner rush mess. The automatic washer spun loud enough so that Angela couldn't hear us chatting. It was the only part of the kitchen situated by windows, which were opened to constantly let fresh air in. I needed the breather.
                          
"Does she always do this?" Yu-jin asked.
                          
I nodded, keeping an eye on her. "Has she done it to you yet?"
                          
He returned the nod. "How do you stay working here?" 
                          
Little did he know, I fought with myself every day over that exact question. I gave him the same unseasoned answer that I kept giving myself, "The rent."
                          
He chuckled once. I hung around, hesitant to retreat back into the dining room with the risk of somehow making myself look like a fool, yet kept getting in the way as Yu-jin tried to load the second dishwasher, craning his thin body around me.
                          
"Oops, sorry," I apologized and scooted out of his way.
                          
"Table seven, order up!" a chef yelled.
                          
"Chloe! Now!" Angela screamed, much to my surprise that she noticed I snuck in.
                          
I waved goodbye to Yu-jin then grabbed the single plate of steaming hot shrimp scampi. As I reached the door into the dining room, my nerves erupted again.