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Join Date: Mar 2008
Posts: 161
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The first part of chapter ONe...
This is the first half of Chapter One. I don't have any cool titles yet but I'm definitely going to think of chapter headings before I'm done. I didn't post the whole chapter because it's really long *maybe I'll break it up into two chapters later, in fact most likely I will, I'm still working out the timing of all that*.
Anyway, please read and let me know what you think. I know you can't really see where it's going from this part but I gotta start somewhere and can't post the whole entire novel in one post. I much appreciate anyone reading my work!Thanks and here goes....
“Excuse me!”
He heard the voice, but attempted to ignore it. Maybe if he didn’t look, he wouldn’t have to respond. Maybe the voice wasn’t even directed at him in the first place. Maybe, he hoped, if left unattended to, it would just go away.
“Excuse me!” the voice continued, louder this time. It now bordered on a yell. “Hey!”
He turned, nearly dropping the tray of drinks he held carefully on his arm. He found balance, just to lose it again when a giggling child darted past his legs, followed by another. The second one, a little boy, practically tripped him. He regained his center quickly, and was amazed and thankful when the drinks didn‘t fall to the ground. What a mess that would have been. He stood frozen for a moment, waiting cautiously for another obstacle, and tried not to glare at the parents of the children, who sat a few tables over and were obviously too engaged in their own conversation to properly supervise their offspring. Muttering to himself and giving in, he looked around for whoever had called out to him.
Over at table seven, a heavyset man in a gray polo shirt was staring at him, holding a fork up in the air.
“Yes?” he said, looking at the man while watching out of the corner of his eye for more scampering kids.
“This fork is dirty. I need a new one.”
The fork didn’t look dirty at all. It gleamed almost as much as the man’s bald head.
“I’ll be right on that sir, just give me a moment.”
Fork man appeared mildly irritated, obviously expecting his utensil crisis to outweigh the needs of the customers waiting on their drinks. Table seven was Shelly’s territory. Fork man would have to deal with it.
He scanned the room in front of him. He had three tables right now. There were the two young women who already had their food, the table of the four people who were waiting on the drinks he had in his hand at the moment, and two older women who were just being seated. Shelly was taking care of the other four tables, one of which was the source of the rambunctious children.
He made it safely to his destination without being tripped again and began handing out the drinks.
“Here you go.” he said, setting the last cola down. The group consisted of two men and two women, all appearing to be in their twenties. They stared vacantly at the menu.
“Are you guys going to need a little more time?” he asked politely.
“Yeah.” said guy number one, a square jawed blonde.
“All righty. I’ll give you just a few minutes and I’ll be back to take your order okay?”
“Thanks.” said girl number one, a bleached blonde with an artificial looking tan.
He smiled and nodded, before remembering fork man‘s dilemma, and rushing with the empty tray back to the kitchen, where he found Shelly.
“Hey.” he said. “Baldy at seven needs a new fork.”
“Okay.” said Shelly, looking a little overwhelmed. She was balancing two trays of food on one arm and had a third in the other hand. There was sweat on her brow from the heat of the kitchen, and some of her dark hair stuck limply to her face.
His heart got the best of him.
“I’ll get it for you if you want.”
“Thank you sweetie.” she said, looking relieved.
Shelly was twenty nine, short, curvy and genuinely very nice. She, like many other waitresses he had worked with, had developed the habit of calling everyone “sweetie”, “honey”, or other equally sugary pet names. The difference with Shelly was that her bubbly personality didn’t come across fake, unlike most of the others, especially some of the younger ones. He’d always found the habit a bit disconcerting, and despite how genuine it was, it seemed that it might bother older folks when someone half their age called them “honey.”
He headed back out into the danger zone, dropped off the clean fork, and on to the table with the two older women, who were still waiting to place their drink order.
“Please not coffee.” he said under his breath as he approached. He hated coffee, especially at night. Often times it was out, and needed to be brewed fresh. Also, coffee meant providing creamer, which at this restaurant, came in a tiny little pitcher that was a pain in the ass to fill.
He approached the table, readying his usual spiel.
“Hey how are you doing?” he said, handing each woman a menu. “My name is Devin and I’ll be your server this evening. Can I start you ladies out with something to drink?”
After going on four years in the restaurant business, Devin had his fake waiter voice down. The tone raised a bit in pitch, and took on a slightly melodramatic quality that reminded him of a television announcer. He hated the voice with a burning passion. He became someone completely different than himself whenever he was dealing with customers, but it had to be that way. Regular Devin would simply tell a stupid customer off, where as Waiter Devin knew just the right way to kiss ass to make tips. It made him feel dirty, but he had to admit, he was pretty good at it.
“Something to drink.. “ Older lady number one said, as if she had never heard to question before. She had on a sparkly red top fixed with a large gold pin above the breast.
Devin attempted to use a sort of Jedi mind control on the woman. He focused intensely on her, trying to force his thoughts into her brain. Water.. Cola.. Juice.. he thought. Not coffee. Anything but coffee.
“I’ll take a coffee.”
“Me too dear.” said older lady number two, this one a curly haired blonde in a white blouse. “One coffee. Extra creamer.”
Devin grimaced and forced a giant grin. Obviously, his midi-clorian count was not what it should be.
“Two coffees coming right up.” he said. “Just a few minutes ladies.”
Of course, the coffee pot was almost empty and Devin had to start a new one. While he was waiting, he headed back over to the twenty-somethings. As soon as he noticed them come in, he knew they would be difficult. It wasn’t anything they said or did, it was just a general psychic sense he had developed in his time as a waiter. Sometimes, you just know.
“Are you guys all ready to order?” he asked, pad and paper in hand.
“Do you have steak?” fake looking blonde asked.
“Yes.” said Devin, eyeing the large selection of steaks on the menu in front of her.
“What’s filet mignon?” girl number two asked. She appeared to be some sort of Asian ethnicity. She had blonde streaks in her hair, and was sporting a tan as fake as girl number one. “Is that beef?”
She pronounced the words “fill it mig non.” and Devin internally smirked, while staring at her patiently.
The blank customer service face was another wonderful trait he had developed over the years. Servers couldn’t laugh or get angry at a customers stupid remarks, they instead had to stuff the emotion down inside and hold it there until they could make it to the back to let it all explode out in a zealous rant.
“Yes it is.” said Devin. “So is the porterhouse, the London broil, the t-bone-”
“What’s Arctic char?” guy number two interrupted. This one was dark skinned and had on a Dodgers cap.
“It’s fish.”
“What’s it taste like?”
“Sort of like Salmon.”
“What does Salmon taste like?” square jawed blonde asked.
“Well, honestly, I don’t know. I’ve never had it. I‘m vegetarian.” Devin said, shrugging and laughing a little. “But I hear it’s wonderful, very juicy and a lot of flavor.”
Both square jaw and Dodger cap stared at him.
“Vegetarian?” Dodger cap said. “But I thought you said it was fish?”
“Yes.” Devin said, not bothering to explain that at least to vegetarians, fish counts as meat. “Fish.”
“How could you never have had Salmon?” square jaw said, laughing as if he were amazed at such a wild concept.
Devin just smiled and shrugged, desperately wishing he could point out to square jaw that he had just asked what it tasted like, implying that he had never eaten it himself. He resisted this urge, ignoring the question by simply repeated the positive review.
“I hear it’s wonderful.”
“Okay.” said square jaw. “I’ll have that.”
Devin jotted down his order, then looked to Dodger cap.
“A burger.” he said.
“Okay, which one?”
“Which ones do you have?”
Devin didn’t understand why some people bothered to look at the menu in the first place.
“The California burger is delicious.”
“Okay, I’ll have that.”
“What’s better, the chicken or the pork?” fake tan blonde asked. Devin smiled.
“Well, what are you in the mood for?”
“The pork.” she said.
“Good choice.” he said, grinning. “The pork is better.”
She appeared satisfied.
“I’ll just have a house salad.” said Asian blonde streaks.
“Dressing?”
“Thousand Island.” she said. “No wait! Ranch. No wait. Thousand Island.”
Devin paused, staring at her, his pen to the pad.
“Thousand Island.” she repeated.
“Thousand Island it is.” he said. “All right guys, I’ll put this order in right away and it should only be a few minutes.”
He rolled his eyes as he headed back towards the kitchen.
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