Mike drove the Mercedes back to Easthampton, leaving his motorcycle in the city. On the way back to the Leighs' house, he stopped at the carwash to have it detailed, and whilst he was waiting, his cell phone rang. He saw from the caller ID that it was Siobhan, and answered the call with some anticipation. Her gentle Irish brogue came from the phone.
"Hello, Mike. It's quite the stranger you've been lately."
"Stranger yourself," replied Mike, "I left messages, but it seems we've both been busy."
"You're right there. Anyway, if you're free tomorrow evening, I have the place to myself, and there's a little something that I need your help with."
Mike smiled to himself, as he could well imagine just what it was with which she needed help. "I can get away. Does 8 o'clock work for you?" The time being confirmed, Mike put his phone away and went back to his newspaper. He got back to the Leighs' house in time for a late snack, and Lenny told him that he was taking advantage of the absence of their employers to take a few days off. Mike and he spent the rest of the day checking all was well in the house and stocking up on supplies. The Leighs weren't due back for another week, but it was as well to be prepared. Mike then went back to his own little small apartment over the garage, and got showered and changed whilst Lenny packed his things and he decided what to do about dinner.
Later that evening, he took out the Jeep Cherokee that served as the staff car, drove Lenny to the Jitney stop, and then went on to his favorite restaurant for dinner. As always, the Hostess, Christina, greeted him enthusiastically. .
"Mike!" she said, "Good to see you again. We haven't seen so much of you this summer, have we? Busy?"
"Yeah. Lots of houseguests keeping me running about pandering to their every whim. That's why I came here so that somebody could pamper me for a change. If you have a table for one available, of course?" The room was a lot busier than it had been on his previous visit, but Christina looked across to the far side near the kitchen door.
"I've got just the place for you. You can sit and people watch, the way you like to. Also, it's in Erica's section, and I know you like her. Plus she likes you, so you should get your pampering!" Mike raised an eyebrow, as he had only been in three or four times that summer, although thinking about it, Erica had served him on all but one occasion. Christina smiled, "She's always asking after That Handsome Englishman, and has actually asked me to sit you in her section if I can." Mike raised the other eyebrow, and Chris chuckled, "I'm pretty sure that she would let you get naughty, if you asked nicely." Mike followed Christina to his table, admiring as always her shapely rear. She seated him, gave him the menu and winked at him. "I'll tell Erica you're here."
As Mike looked at the familiar menu, Erica came over with a vodka martini. "I remembered that you liked this." She said with her marked Australian accent, "And Christina said that as you need pampering tonight, your drinks are on the house." As she poured the cocktail from the shaker over the olives on their stick into the glass, Mike smiled to himself. Christina knew full well that if he were driving, he wouldn't be drinking too much. Erica told him the specials, and left Mike to think whilst she went to attend to other diners.
Mike sipped his martini as he gazed around the room. There was the usual Hamptons summer mixture, mostly couples, but with the occasional larger party. Mike's attention was drawn to a party of eight who were in the process of giving Erica their order. It sounded very complicated, as they sorted out who was sharing which appetizer with whom, what wines to order, who wanted substitutions on their main courses whilst several people kept changing their minds. Eventually, Erica got the order sorted, and disappeared into the kitchens. Several minutes passed, and Mike had finished his martini before Erica had returned. He caught the barman's eye, and when Erica emerged from the kitchen, she fetched his fresh drink before coming to take his order. She started to apologize, but Mike waved her to silence.
"Don't worry about it. I'm in no hurry, and you'll get a much bigger tip from them than from me. Concentrate on them, and you fit me in as you can."
As he sipped his second martini, Mike continued his people watching, but found his eyes drifting back to Erica, as she flitted efficiently from table to table, although she did seem to be having some difficulty with the larger party as they consumed their meal. They became more boisterous as the levels in their wine bottles went down, and they kept up a steady stream of requests.
As his food came and Mike ate his dinner, he noticed that his wine glass seemed to be getting refilled rather more often than usual. He looked at Erica when she brought a third glass – or was it the fourth? – and she rested her hand on his arm. "Don't worry – think of it as pampering."
"I'm grateful, but I have to drive." he protested.
Erica smiled, "Don't worry about that. I've spoken to Chris, and we'll get you home."
Mike took his time, and carried on watching Erica. She was quite pretty, with dirty blonde hair in a ponytail, and a slender figure under her waitress' uniform. Every so often, she caught him watching, and flashed little smiles at him. Eventually, the restaurant started to empty, and the large party seemed to take for ever sorting out the check. Mike could see Erica seething quietly as the discussion bounced around the table, as people argued who had had what to eat and drink. Eventually, it was sorted out and Erica went to the till to process the different sums on the six different credit cards that had been proffered. As the party left, Erica picked up the wallet, looked inside and glared at the closing door.
"Cheap bastards!" Christina went over, and looked at the credit card slips. "Cheap bastards is right." she said. Mike looked at them, and Chris said, "Total check was for a little over $650. What would you tip on that?"
Mike did the math, and said, "Should be around $120."
Chris and Erica looked at each other, then at him. "Those cheap bastards paid it all on credit cards, and left a lousy fifteen bucks." Mike was amazed, as he thought everyone knew that the "standard" was at least double the tax showing on the check. Christina shook her head, "I know who they are, too. They share a rented house and I know that the rent for the summer is over a hundred grand. They all work on Wall Street, and must each earn over half a million a year."
