Page 9 of Cuffed to my Roomies
“We have cleaning staff. We have dishwashers. What we need is a server who arrives on time for her shift.”
“Am I being fired?” I shifted uncomfortably.
“According to company policy, you’re being formally reprimanded for tardiness. Three more tardies will result in automatic termination,” he said, “I don’t have a choice. I know you’re a good server, you get along with the other wait staff, and the customers like you. But you’re late every day.”
“This is my fault, Ben. I appreciate you giving me another chance. My car should be done tomorrow, and I sure as hell need this job to pay off the repair bill. Maybe with my own ride I can get here quicker.”
“Let’s hope so.”
I swallowed hard and my heart sank. I’d never been fired from a job before. I didn’t want to be the flaky, undependable waitress. But the internship was everything I’d ever dreamed of, and I wasn’t willing to give it up, or to shortchange that experience for a waitressing gig, when I could, realistically, get another job as a waitress, possibly with different hours. I just liked it there, liked the people on my shift, and the whole atmosphere. It was polished but not uptight, and no one tried to grope my ass, which was a hazard I’d run into before in that line of work.
When I went home after that shift, I was worried that I wouldn’t last the week. I sat at the kitchen table, chin in my hands, staring at the glass of water I’d gotten myself. I didn’t know what to do.
“Watching ice melt?” I heard Brett ask, “We have TV, you know. I’ll even let you hold the remote.”
“Thanks,” I said, looking up at him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said, not wanting to trouble him.
Brett flipped a chair around and swung his leg over it, facing me, “What’s up, buttercup?”
“I got a warning at work. I’ve been late four days in a row.”
“Your internship’s only part time, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So what’s the hold up?”
“I get all these opportunities to go to meetings and events, and I never let one pass me by so I can learn as much as I can while I’m there. So then I end up having to stay late to do my filing or copying or emails or whatever I promised to do. And the shift starts so close to when my time’s up at the magazine—the bus has been a lifesaver, but I still end up flat out running to get to the restaurant, and with having to cross at the light and—these all sound like bad excuses. I can’t seem to make it on time. And policy is that I’m fired in basically three days.”
“Have you tried telling the magazine people no? Like, I’d love to sit in on that but I have to finish my work?”
“I have. I just end up dawdling and wondering what’s going on at the meeting and I still barely get finished.”
“It sounds like you just want to be at Envy.”
“Well, right. I mean, that’s exactly what I want, but I have to make money so I can live.”
“What if you changed jobs?”
“I’m going to have to. I’ll look around for a place that lets the servers start a little later.”
“Why switch? Don’t you like this place where you work? Just see if they have a bartender opening. Tips are better at the bar anyway. I used to sling drinks when I was going through the academy. Made a damn fortune in tips on the weekends.”
I looked him up and down, “I bet you did,” I teased, “And the bar’s open later so I bet they have different hours. That’s not a bad idea.”
“I have those once in a while,” he quipped.
“I appreciate it. It was nice of you to take an interest. I mean, you guys helped me out when I needed it most, and I don’t want to interfere with your dynamic as roommates. I don’t want to be in the way.”
“If you were in the way, we wouldn’t have asked you to move in. I know it seems like Derek runs the show, and a lot of the time he does, but it was a mutual decision. And not just based on that frittata you made.”
“Thank you. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think maybe you got railroaded into agreeing to keep me around.”
“You think I’m a pushover?” he said, a wry tilt to his eyebrows.
“No, not at all, I just think you seemed more cautious, more self-contained.”
He looked thoughtful for a moment before speaking. “I didn’t used to be. We can thank my ex-wife for that, I guess,” he said ruefully.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up something painful,” I said, taking a long drink of water.
“No, it’s fine. I’m okay talking about it. Now.”
“It must’ve been really hard on you. I can’t—I haven’t known you long at all, but you seem like the least annoying person in the world, you’re calm and kind and respectful. I can’t imagine someone wanting to leave you,” I took another drink, and promptly choked on my water. My eyes watered, and my face turned red, not only from choking but from openly admitting how attractive Brett was to me, not just his looks but his demeanor as well.
