Letta
This was so not the plan for tonight. I was supposed to be at home by now, curled up with a good book and a glass of shitty wine.
I definitely wasn't supposed to be at work, catering to an 'important last minute client' and his buddies.
Margie, the owner of the fairly high-end restaurant that I worked in, owed me big time.
"They usually don't stay long, Letta." said the older woman, obviously trying to appease me.
And it wasn't even like I could be mad at her. This job paid my bills and made sure I didn't have to stay in some super seedy part of town.
I certainly wasn't living like the rich and famous, but I enjoyed the little apartment I had all to myself.
"It's fine, Margie." I said with a sigh, grabbing four menus and heading out into the large dining room.
Seeing as they were the only ones still here, it was easy to spot them at the corner table by the window.
The group of four men were obviously professionals in some sort of business if their immaculately tailored suits were of any indication.
Great, big shot business men.
In my experience, businessmen didn't tip well, so I was sure to be wasting at least 40 minutes of my time. Margie was nice enough to make my minimum wage 5 dollars instead of the usual 3.75 for servers, but it wasn't much incentive now, at a quarter past 10.
"Welcome to Mason's; here are the menus." I said, setting one in front of each man.
They were all fairly handsome, but I was definitely not even close to the kind of girl men like this would be seen with, so I ignored their good looks and continued talking.
"Do you all know what you'd like to drink?"
They all murmured their assent, and I quickly took down their drink orders - 3 beers and 1 scotch. Simple enough.
I quickly loaded the tray with the drinks, returning a few minutes later.
After setting their drinks in front of them I asked, "Is everyone ready to order?"
The man closest to me on the left smirked and said, "Are you on the menu?"
Working in the service industry for practically my entire life, I was more than accustomed to these situations, but that didn't stop my annoyance at it.
Before I could say anything, though, one of the other men - the one who'd ordered the scotch - was interrupting.
"Watch your mouth, Rick." he snapped, his glare leveled at his friend.
Rick mumbled an apology and I awkwardly cleared my throat.
Turning to the man to my right I asked, "What are you having?"
"He can go first." he said, nodding his head toward scotch-man, and I couldn't help but be a bit curious about why it mattered who ordered first.
Regardless I raised an eyebrow at him, pulling my pen out of my bun to take his order.
He didn't say anything for a while, giving me the opportunity to really look at him.
And god, I wished I hadn't.
It was him. It had to be.
And he was still...fucking sexy.
His complexion was fair, a sharp contrast to the dark, raven locks that looked slightly disheveled after a days work - though they were slightly longer than the last, and only, time I'd seen him.
His sky-blue eyes sparkled with mirth that alerted me to the fact that maybe he remembered me too.
But no. No, that couldn't be it.
It had been a one night stand and nothing more. No exchanging of numbers, no promises of a continuation - and hell that had been a year ago.
There was no way this man who had to have women falling all over him would remember me.
But that look...
I shoved all those thoughts aside when I realized he had started ordering, quickly scribbling down his order with the rest of his friends before leaving their table.
I gave Jesse the ticket before heading back into the dining room to start wiping down tables. There was no way I wanted to be here later than I had to. It would be just fine with me if I could stroll out of here right as they did.
Stroll out and forget I'd ever seen him again - Christian.
I couldn't help but think back to the many times that night that I'd breathlessly moaned that name -
No. I definitely could not be thinking about that right now. For fuck's sake, he probably didn't even remember me!
I ignored the four men, focusing on wiping down all the tables and replacing the fresh silverware before I heard the telltale ding that signaled their food was ready. Breaking away from my task I brought them their food, and after asking if they needed anything else, disappeared into the back.
Since it was unlikely they were going to tip anyway, I figured I might as well get rid of this apron and grab my bag. Margie would stay to lock up anyway, so she would get them their bill.
I yanked the elastic from my hair, releasing my mass of curls from the confines of the bun, and was immediately grateful for the release.
I loved being mixed - my blended family was amazing - but the one thing I could do without were all the bun-induced headaches from all the hair I had.
Fluffing it out a bit I couldn't help but think about how Christian had loved my hair, tangling his hands into it and pulling just hard enough to sting.
And god, I'd loved every second of it.
I certainly wasn't one for self-pity, but it wasn't like I'd really been made to feel like I fit in anywhere - too white for the black kids and too black for the white kids - let alone to have someone make me feel sexy and wanted.
It had been one of the most mind-blowing experiences of my life.
Shaking that thought from my head I sat down at the small table in the break room. I pulled the wad of cash from my apron, neatly tucked them into my wallet, and pulled out my phone before zipping my purse closed.
As I headed back out into the dining area I clicked the Uber app on my phone. I typically took the late bus home, but since it was almost 11pm that hope was certainly dashed.
Expensive Uber it was.
I slipped behind the bar, pouring myself a drink since I was officially off the clock - customers in the corner be damned.
While I sipped my drink I ordered the Uber, groaning at the fact that I'd be waiting 20 minutes.
I set my purse and phone onto the bar top before walking around to take a seat facing away from the four men.
I knew if I didn't I'd spend all my time staring at Christian.
5 minutes later and half my drink gone I couldn't help the fierce want to just sink into my bed at home.
15 minutes to go.
"Letta."
That one word, uttered in the way I knew only he could, I couldn't help the way my breath caught.
Christian did remember me.
Christian
I never would've expected Letta to be here - hell, I'd never even expected to see her again. The little minx had been straight forward from the beginning about only wanting a no-strings-attached arrangement.
