GOLDEN RESTAURANT
"Alright, everyone, we have some very influential people coming in today. I want to make sure that everything is perfect. You'll be serving them in the private room, so let's get it right." I was currently at work, standing in line with other waiters, listening as our manager gave his instructions.
I raised an eyebrow, thinking to myself that this was just another day at the office. After all, this was a five-star restaurant, and rich people came here every day. I didn't see why our manager was making such a big deal about it.
I think I heard him mention the person's name. What was it again? Dylan.... San... something
Now that I'm thinking about it, the person must be really influential for our manager to hold them in such high regard.
He paused, then began to assign tasks and I was among those chosen to serve the guests.
As we began to get ready, a certain person bumped into me, intentionally.
"Watch it, Lyla." I muttered, trying my possible best to keep my anger at bay.
Lyla just gave me a dirty look and walked off.
Wow. What an attitude.
I seriously don't know what her problem is. She's been a pain in the ass ever since I got employed here.
I rolled my eyes and turned to another employee Cecilia, who was probably watching the whole show.
"Don't mind her," Cecilia said. "She's just having a bad day."
I raised an eyebrow. "That's one way to put it, I'm pretty sure she has a bad day 'everyday'."
Cecilia laughed and we both headed towards the kitchen. As we walked, I studied her and she looked almost... restless.
"I'm so excited," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Dylan Sanchez is coming, and I'm hoping to catch his eye."
I almost rolled my eyes. This wasn't a club for goodness sake, this was a restaurant. Yes, they're rich and all but.. "Who's Dylan Sanchez?" I couldn't help but ask.
She stopped and looked at me like I've grown two heads. "You didn't just say that."
I frowned.
Did I say something wrong?
Cecilia's eyes widened in surprise. "You don't know who Dylan Sanchez is?" she asked.
I shook my head. "No, I don't,"
"He's the younger brother of the CEO of Sanchez Enterprises. His older brother is married, so Dylan is the next catch. And just so you know, Sanchez enterprises is one of the largest business here. Probably the largest and the family itself holds a lot of power here."
Oh, that explains.
Cecilia grinned. "You are really boring you know? Dylan hardly shows his face in public." she said. "Most people would kill to be in your shoes right now."
I shrugged. "I'm just not that into the whole social scene, i'd rather focus on my job and my own life."
We reached the kitchen and began to prepare for the meal service.
_________
Great. Just great.
Of all the people, why did they have to pair me with her? Lyla—her name alone was enough to make my stomach churn. She had a reputation for being difficult, and the last thing I needed tonight was to be stuck working alongside her.
But there I was, carrying orders towards the private room, with her trailing close behind. I kept hoping she wouldn't make things worse for me, but deep down, I wasn't optimistic.
The door to the private room creaked open under my push, revealing the scene inside. Four sleek couches arranged around a low table. Two young men sat side by side on one of them, deep in conversation. I assumed one of them to be Dylan.
Across from them, an older man sat with a stern expression, papers and documents spread out before him, their body language formal and businesslike.
Slow and steady steps, I reminded myself, trying to steady the tray heavy with dishes and drinks in my hands. My pulse was quickening, but I kept my focus, determined not to let anything go wrong.
Then, in a heartbeat, disaster struck.
My foot caught on something, God only knows what. Maybe a stray chair leg, or maybe Lyla had deliberately moved something. Before I could even register it, I was falling forward, my hands losing grip on the tray.
The dishes, plates, and glasses crashed down with a terrible noise, splattering food and drinks everywhere. Warm liquid soaked the tablecloth, splattering the papers scattered across it, and even the older man's pristine suit.
My heart was pounding in my ears. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.
I heard the sharp, angry voice first: "What the hell?!" The older man's voice was sharp, furious.
Then the slap hit my cheek.
Hard.
The sting radiated instantly, and my head jerked sideways from the force. The room seemed to freeze as everyone stared at me.
I was already trembling, tears welling in my eyes as I mumbled, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," over and over again, barely able to keep my voice steady.
Through the blur of shock and embarrassment, I caught a glimpse of Lyla standing to the side with a smirk stretching across her face.
That cruel bitch, she had tripped me.
My humiliation was her victory, and it felt like the world was crashing down around me.
But honestly, I didn't care about her anymore. All I could think about was holding onto my job. If I lost this one, I didn't know what I'd do.
"I'm sorry, sir. I'm so sorry," I repeated, my voice barely steady as tears blurred my vision and traced warm trails down my cheeks. I must have looked like a complete mess, but at that moment, I didn't care. My whole world was collapsing, and all I could do was apologize over and over, hoping to erase the damage I had caused.
But the older man was relentless.
Suddenly, one of the young men who had been sitting at the table stood up abruptly. "I'm out of here," he said sharply, his voice cutting through the tension. The other young man quickly followed, standing as well, clearly agreeing with the decision. The older man tried to stop them, waving his hand, but they were already moving toward the door. In seconds, the room was empty of everyone except the older man and me.
His eyes burned with fury as he stalked toward me. "Do you know what you just did? You ruined an important deal for me," he snarled, his tone low and threatening. Without warning, his hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of my hair, jerking my head upward so I was forced to meet his angry gaze.
I swallowed hard, my throat tight and dry.
"Guards!" he barked, and two large, imposing men immediately appeared at the door. My heart pounded, fear clutching at my chest as the men stepped forward toward me.
"Beat her up," the older man ordered, his voice cruel and merciless.
My eyes widened in terror. "W..Wait, no, please!" I stammered, trying to back away, but the bodyguards were closing in.
Before they could touch me, the door opened once more, and one of the man from earlier walked in again.
"You're not seriously thinking of beating a woman over an accident, are you?" he said firmly. "It was a mistake. She's already apologized."
The older man's mouth opened and closed, unable to find words. His anger seemed to falter under the other man's unwavering gaze.
He stepped forward and grabbed my arm gently to help me to my feet. "Come on. Let's go."
Still in shock, I didn't resist. As we turned toward the door, the man stopped, looked back at the furious older man, and said bluntly, "And besides, your proposal sucks."
Then, just like that, we left the private room and stepped out of the restaurant.
I was still dazed, struggling to process everything that had just happened, when I realized he was pulling me along toward the parking lot where their car was parked.
I hesitated, then said softly, "Uhmm... Mister, thank you so much for helping me, but I have to go back."
He stopped abruptly and looked down at me, as if only now noticing he had been holding my hand all along. "Oh," he said quietly, releasing me.
I gave a small, grateful smile. "Thank you. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come in."
He studied my face for a moment before asking gently, "Does your face hurt?"
I frowned, suddenly aware of the dull ache spreading across my cheek. My fingers instinctively touched the spot, and I realized it was already swollen from the slap.
"I'll get it treated, but I really have to get back to work now," I said, trying to sound stronger than I felt. "Thank you again, Mr...?"
He smiled slightly. "Just call me Zachary."
I nodded. "Thank you, Zachary. You can call me Evelyn. It was nice meeting you."
I turned and hurried back inside praying I don't get fired.