Gasping For Air 2 (Last Chance Romance Series) Read Free Page A

the evening shifts during the weekends. It doesn’t pay much plus you will be on your feet for seven hours, but you get the evening meal free providing you don’t order lobster and filet mignon.”
    “It’s a start. I’ll take it.”
    “Be here on Friday at three. Wear black pants or skirt with a white shirt. No cleavage. No loud jewelry. Sensible shoes. You cause trouble or I catch you stealing–you’re gone. Understand?”
    “Yes. Thank you. I’ll work very hard.”
    “We’ll see. You might be quitting after the first night. It’s harder than you think.”
    “Thank you anyway. You won’t be sorry.”
    “Yeah? I’ve heard that before. See you Friday.”
    Lillian turned to make her way out of the restaurant when Jack yelled after her, “Be on time!” She didn’t bother to comment as she was wondering where she could purchase some good sturdy shoes.

9
    L illian was terrified. She ate a quick meal, was given twenty minutes of training, and then was handed menus with a grease pencil, and told she was on her own. Things went smoothly until seven p.m. and then all hell broke loose. Everyone seemed to come at once and Lillian was having trouble seating everyone promptly. The tables were not turning over swiftly enough.
    Seeing that several tables were empty but not cleared, Lillian got a tray and cleaned the tables herself. Things went quicker after that so Lillian made it a habit if she couldn’t find a busboy, she would simply clear the tables herself.
    So she was totally flummoxed when a busboy chewed her out after the restaurant had closed.
    “Whatcha think you doing cleaning my tables,” confronted the busboy, standing a little too close to Lillian.
    She stepped back. “I . . . I don’t know what you mean,” Lillian replied. “I thought I was helping.”
    “I don’t need no help, bitch,” sassed the busboy, stepping closer to Lillian.
    After years of being bullied, Lillian simply had had enough of men telling her what to do. “I’m sorry if I stepped on your toes, but I suggest that you step it up cleaning the tables. Dirty tables were slowing the turnover. If you have a problem with me, you should talk to Jack. If he tells to me to stop, then I will. But he might tell you to get off your butt and work faster.”
    The busboy’s face flushed to a dark red. He couldn’t believe that this old hag was talking back to him. He pointed a finger at Lillian and jabbed it within an inch of her eyes. “Stay out of my business, old woman, or else.”
    “Or else what?” boomed a masculine voice.
    Both Lillian and the busboy turned around to see Jack watching them.
    “This old lady is up in my business. I was taking care of the tables,” whined the busboy.
    “First of all, I don’t like the way you were talking to this lady,” replied Jack, his voice very low. “Second, if this lady is old, then I must be ancient.”
    “But . . .” blurted the busboy.
    “But nothing,” interrupted Jack. “The waitresses are complaining that someone is stealing their tip money. They’re coming up a hundred dollars short every night.”
    The busboy looked away. “I don’t know nothing about that.”
    “It seems that this started happening when we hired you.”
    “Aw, come on now. Don’t trip on me. I got nothing to do with that.”
    “Look up. See those surveillance cameras. I record what goes on here and I checked those tapes. You are stealing the tips off the tables and taking very long smoking breaks. I’m very thankful that this old hag had the initiative to clean off tables while you were slacking off.”
    The busboy moved toward Jack in a threatening manner.
    “You hit me, boy, you better make sure I’m dead, ’cause I’ll beat the living crap out of you and then dump you in the ocean for the sharks,” hissed Jack. He was smiling, which made the threat scarier.
    The busboy blanched. “I want my pay then. I don’t gotta listen to this shit. You’re disrespecting me.”
    “Great minds