The Waiter Bradleigh Collins (autobiographies to read TXT) 📖

“Okay, I’ll get us a table outside. What do you want to drink?”

“Apple martini and a glass of ice water.”

As I walked to the back, the smell of Italian food made me ravenous. I hadn’t eaten anything since my morning bagel, and I was now looking forward to devouring the breadbasket.

I freshened up and headed back to the front of the restaurant. I joined Josh, who was already sitting outside drinking a beer and looking at the menu. Just as I sat down, a glorious green apple martini appeared in front of me. I reached for the glass and took a sip.

“Hey, didn’t I just see you guys in the park this morning?”

I looked up at our waiter. I saw the dark hair falling across his forehead. It was Mr. Deltoids. Mr. Deltoids was our fucking waiter.

CHAPTER 2

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The Waiter stood there, smiling at me.

“Yeah, I remember you,” Josh said. “I told my cousin to stop leering at you this morning.” I could feel my face turning red.

“Your cousin?”

“Yeah, my totally single cousin Sammy here.” He emphasized the word “single.” Josh and The Waiter both laughed. I wanted to crawl under the table. I couldn’t bring myself to look at either of them, so I buried my face in the menu.

“I’m just gonna climb over the railing here and step in front of a bus,” I said without looking up.

“Please don’t,” The Waiter said. “I’ll be right back with some bread and I’ll tell you guys about our specials.” He walked away. I glared at Josh, who was sitting across the table from me grinning like a Happy Buddha statue.

“What?” Josh asked, “This is fucking fantastic!”

“I am mortified.”

“Why? He obviously likes you. Every guy likes you. Come on. You’re hot and you know it.”

“That is so not true. And he’s our waiter. It’s his job to be nice to us. Which makes this even more humiliating.”

I really had no idea if he was flirting with me in particular or if he was this friendly because it resulted in big tips. And even if he was flirting with me, I was leaving tomorrow. And even if I weren’t leaving tomorrow, I was still gun-shy about getting back into the dating world. The pain from my breakup with Dalton was too fresh. I gulped my martini. I was going to need some liquid courage to get me through this dinner.

And then it appeared. The breadbasket I’d been craving. Only now, my stomach was filled with butterflies and alcohol.

“So Sammy,” The Waiter said, “That’s kind of a guy’s name, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” I summoned enough courage to look up and make eye contact with him. He was even better looking up close. He had beautiful brown eyes, sexy full lips and cheekbones that were made for precision glass cutting.

“Is that short for Samantha?”

“No. Just Sammy. It was my grandfather’s name. Well, his name was Samuel, but everybody called him Sammy.”

“You spell it with an ‘i’?”

“Nope. With a ‘y’ like a guy.”

“Interesting.” His smile lingered a bit, causing me to wonder if Josh was right. Maybe he was flirting with me. Or maybe I have something in my teeth.

“So, here’s what we’ve got going on menu-wise tonight.”

As he rattled off the specials, all I could think about was how I felt like Drew Barrymore’s character in Never Been Kissed, a movie that my best friend Dana and I had been to see a few months ago. I felt like a total geek. I had been with Dalton for so long that I had no clue how to date, or flirt, or even know if someone was flirting with me. I had zero game.

“I’ll give you guys a few minutes to decide,” The Waiter said as he walked away.

“Sam, you should see if he wants to meet us out tonight,” Josh said mockingly, looking down at his menu.

“God no! And I swear, if you ask him or embarrass me any further, I will call that girl Katie from last night and tell her to meet us out too. I still have the napkin.”

“Touché.”

I studied the menu, then glanced over to see The Waiter laughing with the bartender as he loaded a tray of drinks for another table. I looked around the restaurant. All the waiters and waitresses were wearing the same thing. Black pants with a white button-down shirt. I’d seen my waiter without the shirt. My face felt flush again. And just like that, he was back.

“Have you guys decided?”

Josh ordered first. Spaghetti and meatballs.

The Waiter turned to me. “How about you, Red?”

“I’ll have the fettuccine with basil.”

“Excellent choice. It’s my favorite dish.” He winked and disappeared.

“I think you’re his favorite dish,” Josh mumbled.

“Stop.”

“Dude, he’s totally flirting with you.”

“Dude, I’ve totally got no game. I have completely forgotten how to do this.”

“There’s nothing to do, Sam,” Josh said reassuringly. “Just be yourself. You’re funny. You’re gorgeous. You’re related to me. It’s all good.”

Josh always knew how to make me feel better. Growing up, we were inseparable. We were also the black sheep of our ultra-conservative southern families. As kids in the 1970s, we bonded over roller-skating, disco dancing, and Star Wars. Our teenage years were spent driving around our tiny hometown of Douglasville, Georgia, listening to Cheap Trick and Motley Crue. We went to different high schools and colleges, but we still managed to hang out together all the time and were always fixing each other up with our friends.

Josh was working as a C.P.A. for Ernst & Young when I was hired at the ad agency in 1994. One of our clients was the Atlanta Olympic Committee. I was constantly scoring invitations and tickets to all the cool happenings in Atlanta during the mid-90s. Josh was frequently my plus-one.

For about a year, he dated my co-worker Julie. She liked the fact that he looked like David Arquette, and he liked the fact that she had huge tits. Obviously, their relationship didn’t last. A couple