Blood Rose (4 page)

At long last, dinner rush was over and we had only half our tables full at nine o’clock. Neesa and Hannah were finishing their closing work so they could go home early. All I had left was four tables and two of those were regulars. One of them had just recently started coming in but it seemed like he was there every night.

His name was Damien D’Tera. He always came in by himself and always sat in my section. He’d come in about an hour ago and signaled now for his check. I waived to him with my brilliant work smile on my way to the bar to pick up another tables drinks. My way of letting him know I’d be right over. Damien raised his hand in response. Him saying ‘take your time.’ He was never in a hurry. Maybe it was my imagination but I felt eyes on me the entire way from the bar to the other table.

The only reason I knew anything about him was because all he ever ordered from was the drink menu and

I always made sure to card him. After almost two months of him coming in nearly every day at nearly eight o’clock sharp each night, he had tried all of the mixed drinks and had begun on our wine list. The strangest thing being he never finished a single drink. Not even half.

He was handsome. There was no disputing that for a second. His driver’s license read six foot three but he seemed taller to me. I think a lot of it was how he carried himself. Everyone knows the saying, confidence makes the man? It made him alright and then some.

Lean but incredibly well sculpted, every muscle perfectly pronounced. Not that I could see every muscle but anyone could tell he was well toned. His hair was stylishly shaggy on top and cut short on the sides. A slight beard covered is chin as if it had been a few days since his last shave. His lips were full and well defined. Not too thick not too thin.

Still, it was strange because… well, he always and I do mean always looked exactly like that. His beard was never shaggier than the sexy scraggly look. Hair was never any longer or ever any shorter. Quite literally only his clothes changed. Even then, the style was generally the same.

I never believed Neesa when she told me it was Ryce’s eyes that got her wrapped up with him so tight. She said the first time they met Ryce looked at her and grabbed hold of her soul with that first glance. With it came her heart. To hear her tell it, they’d been born to be soul mates. They’re just one of those couples you just love to hate. One of those exceedingly rare ones that meets young and from there life is gold.

Damien had turned me into a believer the first time I met him. No one knew this of course. Not even the psychic.

Two incredible gleaming eyes of peridot jewels digging for the core of my soul every time I looked at him made my stomach do back flips and my face flush red as cherries right on cue each and every time.
Damn it, Lianna! Get a grip!
They did so now as I made my way across the restaurant. His eyes locked on mine every step of the way.

“So Mr. D’Tera, should I bother to ask if I can get you anything else?” My breath caught on a knot in my throat. This always happened. It felt like I was choking on all the words I could never say. Words I couldn’t even say to myself.

His eyes could have burned my flesh away as I stood there for what could have been eternity waiting for him to answer. I lost all track of time around him. “Yes.” Is it pathetic that his voice was so rich and melodic I melted at one word?
Yes.

“Alright then,” pause. “What is it that I can get for you?” Damien’s lips curled to the side of his mouth in a smile that could only be called a smirk. Shaking his head as if enjoying a private joke before his eyes came to rest on mine.

It was impossible to look away from eyes like his. They were piercing straight through me. Cutting right through the façade. It took all my energy to even deliver his check for how hard it was to keep up my front around him. The front that let other people believe I was normal, even if just for a little while. My bottom lip sucked in between my teeth as I chewed on it in a nervous habit.

“Two months now, you still call me Mr. D’Tera.” His eyes rolled dramatically. I couldn’t help the stupid giggle that escaped my lips. My cheeks strained at the smile he brought to me. Being around him was the only time my smile was genuine any more. His smile beamed brilliantly on that note. “One- Stop calling me mister, already. It’s Damien. Two- Your boss.” My eyes went wide with question. “Oh and the bill of course.” His lips tugged up at the corner of his mouth just faintly enough to draw a slight crease to corners of his eyes.

The smile washed away. My brow knit together, eyes narrowed slightly. “Is there a problem?” My mouth tightened, clinching my teeth hard onto my lower lip, breaking the skin. I had a permanent broken lip just on the inside from the bad habit. The blood was minimal. My tongue flicked automatically to wash it away.

Leaving his, my eyes flicked over every detail on the table, searching for anything amiss. Things I knew already couldn’t be there. A smudge on his gleaming wine glass. A dirty table. But everything was perfect as always. Was it me? Did I bring him the wrong order? Did the drinks suck and that’s why he never finished? Maybe he was some very compulsively thorough bar critique?

Like the flip of a switch, his pleasant joking demeanor changed. Sitting rigid in his chair, he glared down at the table and shook his head no, once. “Just need to see your manager is all,” his voice was tight. As my eyes narrowed, I forced a painfully fake smile while nodding absently. I walked briskly to the back without a glance over my shoulder in Damien’s direction. “And don’t forget the bill, please.” He called as I was walking.

Pfft, like I would have forgotten.

Abruptly Carrie sidestepped in front of me to block the entry to the kitchen. “You know it’s hardly fair he always sits in your section. And you practically ignore him! It’s not at all surprising he wants to see Mike. And why the hell won’t you tell anyone his name? I know you’ve seen his I.D. You check it every god damned time, like you haven’t seen it a hundred times already!” Her voice was hard and accusing as her eyes narrowed with a rage I would never understand.

Nor did I want to for the matter. There is a short fuse that leads to my temper. Carrie loved trying to trigger it but it wasn’t often that she managed. It was just so rare that I could muster the steam to give a damn about her. She leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed to block my path.

Brittle thin, Carrie is bleached within an inch of the root, tan to the bone and stretched long. Her slender frame didn’t hold more than feeble threat over blocking much of anything. With her arms folded, she looked like a pouting five year old. Rose pink lips twitched with irritation. Heavily made blue eyes caked in eyeliner and smudged mascara made her bloodshot eyes look all the angrier. She was already half lit.

It really steamed her when she couldn’t irk me. I stayed calm just to piss her off more. “It’s private. If he wants you to know then he will tell you.” Brilliant sweet smile. “And if he’s not happy in my section then he can sit anywhere he likes. I don’t ask him to sit there. I don’t even know him.”

Patience is not my virtue and Carrie is not even close to a friend. She has worked here for three months and her attitude is a problem she saves only for me. My head pounded like a sledgehammer on my forehead. My teeth clinched. I was losing the battle to stay cool as she refused to budge an inch. In my head, I could see violent things happening to her. Random wicked accidents that people can’t admit to thinking about when it comes to others.

“So what? You bribe that dipshit of a hostess to sit him there? I mean surely he doesn’t even tip you. Why would he?” Her shrill voice was grating. My molars clamped together. Actually, he was the best tipper I had ever had but I didn’t make it worse by mentioning that fact. I wasn’t in the mood to explain anything to this bitch.

Absently, I looked over my shoulder back at Damien’s table. He was watching us both with a raised brow. Obviously, he must be getting impatient though he seemed curious more than anything. “Please move, Carrie. And don’t say things like that about the other employees. It’s not nice.” My voice was sweet and innocent as honey, with more venom than a cobra’s bite.

“Say things like wha’?” Ryce came up behind Carrie and behind them both, Mike and Rachel were watching curiously.

“Don’t worry about it, Ryce.” He was the over protective type. And he held grudges like a vice. Mike was great about taking care of his staff and making sure no one messed with his servers but Ryce took it to a new level.

One time some college guys got rowdy at the bar and grabbed Rachel on the butt. He made a show like a New York bouncer by quite literally throwing them out the door all at once. It was impressive as it was frightening. We were slammed for the next three weeks after that event amazingly. It attracted some serious attention in town. Ryce would never hurt a woman of course. But he didn’t like Carrie any more than I did. Neesa, Ryce and I were the only ones who seemed to see through the makeup and spray tan to the disgust beneath. Everyone else was okay with her.

The only person who actually really liked Carrie was the bartender. She was just John’s type. Maybe it was their mutual hatred for me that brought them together? Who knew? Who cared?

I yelled over the two in front of me, mostly to put an end to the whole ordeal. “Mike! I got a table who wants to see you out front!” Carrie flashed a big flirty smile to Ryce as she walked out the back apparently deciding to take a break suddenly.

The gathering of on lookers quickly broke up as people went back to work. I told Mike what table before checking on the other three who were about ready to leave by the looks of things. I’d already taken care of two of the checks the last one was finishing their coffee. The other had dwindled to drinks. No telling if it would be their first or last.

Neesa and Hannah had left for the night quickly followed by the prep cooks. It took everything I had to not spy on Mike and my customer. Just to keep temptation at bay I handed Mike Damien’s receipt book as he was walking over to greet him. With any luck, Mike would comp the bill and I would have no need to go back over there. No such luck of course.

As I was filling condiments, Mike laid Damien’s receipt book with a crisp twenty sticking out the top in front of me. He walked off without a word and the oddest expression that could only be described as a thoughtful daze.

What had happened? Did he complain about his drink? Me? Some other erroneous fact that marred tonight’s visit that I had completely missed? Mike didn’t say. Didn’t hint in any direction. Just walked off without a word.

I bit down on my lip in frustration as I picked up the black folded ticket book. I was tired. My head was pounding. My jaw hurt. I grind my teeth when I’m mad. My lip hurt. I bite my lip when I’m frustrated or nervous or in a query. My feet hurt. I was mad at Carrie. Mad I had to play nice. Mad at Mike for not putting her in her place or telling me what was up with D’Tera. Annoyed I’d taken the most tables and no one had helped me even run drinks. In other words, I was just cranky. My hands were shaking badly.

Deep breath. In. Out. There’s Tylenol at home in the medicine cabinet. Just Chill. Smile. Good. Now get through the night. It’s almost over.
I couldn’t bring myself to tell me that tomorrow was going to be a repeat of today. I never had the heart to do it. Work or not. The days never changed any more.

Carrie was absolutely right in her own way. In some ways, I didn’t want anyone else to serve him let alone look at him. Like the times I would see Carrie flaunt herself in front of him and lick her lips, as if she was a starving lioness and he were her dinner. It was irrational of course. He was polite but never more so. Not just to me but to everyone.

Not like I would ever dream of dating a customer. Not that he’d asked anyway. Didn’t matter though. I wouldn’t even consider dating a co-worker. That definitely cut down my options with such strict

limitations. Not that I had really met anyone I worked with that I had been very interested in.

While off in my own little world contemplating my sorry romantic history, I caught myself staring at him.

Shit!
He was staring back. He looked conflicted between amusement and frustration. Absently a pen moved in his fingers without him so much as glancing down. I took in a deep breath. My cheeks burning I nodded, holding up his book. No nod of confirmation. Nothing. He looked away.

Damn it! What did I do to you?

A new fear hammered in my heart erupting out of nowhere. What if I never saw him again? He came into my life strictly through work. One day he would eventually stop. The only relief in my days had been him even if he sucked the energy right out of me. It was stupid.

Ridiculously stupid! I’m not like this. No one controls me anymore. Since when did I let a total stranger take charge of the happiness in my days? Since my subconscious stopped finding anything else to smile about, that’s when.

It was the truth. Even if I wanted to deny it.

Embarrassed and agitated I ran to the register and finished counting out his change in a rush. As soon as I was done and on the way to his table I saw him walking out the door. “Hey, you forgot your change!” But I was yelling at a closed set of doors and attracting a lot of prying eyes from not just customers but the other people I worked with.
Again. Yay…

“Guess he didn’t want it. Was it a good tip at least?”
Uh, it was an eight-dollar glass of wine. Yeah.