The Waiter Bradleigh Collins (autobiographies to read TXT) 📖

people to this party?” I asked. “My best friend Dana and her boyfriend are visiting that weekend.”

“Of course. Invite as many people as you want. But they all have to wear costumes.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, and I hope you don’t have any plans after work tonight because we’re taking you out to Peter’s for happy hour.”

I didn’t have any plans other than to go home, change clothes and hit the gym. Happy Hour on a random Tuesday sounded just fine, especially since Dalton wouldn’t be home from work until after nine.

Later that afternoon, Eric from the IT Department came over to set up my iMac. He handed me a piece of paper with my login info.

“Try to login and see if that works,” he said. “I’ll be right back with your iBook.”

“I get an iBook too?”

“Everybody’s got one,” Eric replied nonchalantly. I was starting to realize how incredibly different the culture of a startup was compared to any other place I’d worked before. There were certainly a lot of perks that came with the job.

Eric returned with my iBook.

“It’s so cute!” I squealed. It looked like a clamshell and it had a handle, like a purse. And, of course, it was orange.

“Every girl says that,” Eric laughed.

“What do the guys say?”

“They just say, ‘cool.' Or they ask for a Dell.”

Eric made sure I could login on both devices before he disappeared. I was reading my article on the company’s website when George came back over to my desk carrying a large box with a bow on it.

“This just came for you,” he said, setting it down on my desk.

“Oh, wow,” I said. “Who’s it from?”

“Open it and see!”

I unwrapped the bow and opened the box. Inside was a large fancy bottle of sparkling grape juice with another smaller box sitting right next to it. There was an unsigned card that simply said “Congrats on your first day. And I’m sorry.” I knew exactly who it was from.

“Oh, do you not drink alcohol?” George asked, looking at the bottle. He sounded concerned.

“I definitely drink alcohol. This is a private joke.”

“Good. Because it’s almost time for happy hour. I’m going to go pack up and then we’ll head out.”

As George walked away, I picked up the smaller box. I was afraid to open it. I was afraid I would start crying right there, no matter what was in it. The sentimental gift of the grape juice had already taken me back to that day at the GreenFlea and stirred up feelings that didn’t need stirring. I thought about not even opening it and just tossing it in the trash. But I couldn’t. My heart pounded as I opened the box. Inside was a blank CD with a note from The Waiter.

It simply said, “Play Me.”

CHAPTER 19

◆◆◆

“Where’s Peter’s?” I asked as we walked up Columbus Avenue. I couldn’t help but notice that every block was bringing me closer to Pomodoro.

“Columbus and 68th,” George said. “Not too far.”

It was not too far alright. Pomodoro was on Columbus and 70th. I had no idea if The Waiter was working, but the thought of being so close to him made me nervous. The CD he’d sent was in my bag and I still didn’t know what was on it. I’d have to wait until I got home to find out.

When we arrived at Peter’s, we grabbed a high top table near the bar and ordered a round of drinks.

“So, how often do you guys do happy hour?”

“Every Friday,” Patricia responded. “And whenever George is in the mood, like tonight.”

“Yeah, but The Queen always comes on Fridays,” George said. “And she picks up the tab.”

“Jackie is amazing,” I said. “I’ve never met anyone like her. I’ve certainly never worked for anyone like her.”

“Me either,” Patricia agreed. “She takes great care of her team. And we all work our asses off for her.”

“What’s her story? Is she married? Single?”

“Oh, The Queen is single,” George answered.

“What about you, Sammy?” Patricia asked. “Are you attached?”

“Yeah, I moved here with my boyfriend. He’s an IT consultant. He got a long-term assignment with his company and free corporate housing.”

“Oh, that’s incredible,” George said. “Where?”

“On the Upper East Side.”

“Oh no, that’s sad.”

“Why is it sad?”

“The Upper East Side is a wasteland. Stuffy old rich people live there.”

“Where do you guys live?”

“I live in Queens,” George replied.

“Brooklyn,” Patricia said.

“Where does Jackie live?”

“Central Park West. She walks to work every day.”

“Jackie comes from old money, although you’d never know it because she’s so down to earth,” Patricia added. “Her parents were in commercial real estate.”

“Her parents live on the Upper East Side,” George said. “See, old money.”

“How long have you been with your boyfriend?” Patricia asked.

“Almost ten years, on and off.”

“Ten years?” George yelled. “Are you serious? Why aren’t you guys married by now?”

“Neither of us is the marrying type. It’s never really been something I wanted.”

“Damn girl,” Patricia said. “Ten years is a long time.”

“He must be really hot,” George chimed in. “What’s his name?”

“Dalton.”

“Oh wow, like Patrick Swayze in Roadhouse Dalton? Yeah, definitely hot. Minus the mullet.”

“I can’t believe you’ve seen that movie, George.”

“I’m crazy for Swayze. You should call your man and tell him to come meet us.”

I knew Dalton wouldn’t come even if I called him. I also didn’t want to prolong happy hour because I was dying to get back to the apartment so I could listen to the CD. The suspense was killing me. But I didn’t want to diss my coworkers on my first day.

“He’s been working late every night on a project. But you’ll definitely meet him at the Halloween Party.”

We stayed at Peter’s until seven. Then I caught a cab on Central Park West instead of Columbus so I wouldn’t have to pass Pomodoro on my way home.

When I walked in the apartment, I was surprised to find Dalton lying on the couch watching television.

“Hey babe!” he said. “How was your first day?”

“It was good.” I walked to the bedroom and put my bags down. “I’m