The Waiter Bradleigh Collins (autobiographies to read TXT) 📖

doing the whole year. I don’t wanna be drunk and crying.”

“Baby,” The Waiter looked at me. “You’ll be kissing me all year.”

“I can live with that.”

Around eleven-thirty, the wait-staff began handing out L2K (Lucy-2-Kyle) themed party favors - hats, crowns, horns, glasses, the works. By eleven-forty-five, the champagne was flowing and everyone had gathered at the windows to watch the ball drop. The DJ was playing the longest version of Prince’s “1999” I’d ever heard, and everyone was dancing and singing along.

“I see Josh will still be doing the white man overbite in 2000,” Kyle said.

“I do that too!” I screamed. “I’m doing it right now! It’s totally hereditary!”

Everyone laughed as we continued to dance. To say that the crowd below us in Times Square was packed in like sardines would be an understatement. It was so tight that you couldn’t even make out individual bodies. Just a sea of people pulsating as one gigantic wave. They wore multicolored shaggy wigs and waved long wiener-shaped balloons frantically above their heads.

“Hello peasants,” Josh said as he stood in the window and waved down below.

“What if all the lights in Times Square go out at midnight because of Y2K?” Simon asked, prompting a swift punch in the shoulder from Dana.

“Really, Simon?” she said. “Why don’t you just go up to the DJ booth, scratch the record and stop the music?”

At fifty-nine seconds, the crystal ball atop the New York Times Building began to move. And of course, I began to cry. By the time we hit the ten second countdown, it was so loud with everyone inside combined with the hundreds of thousands of people outside, that it literally sounded like the entire world was counting.

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

And then, insanity.

“Happy New Year!” everyone screamed. Balloons fell from the ceiling. The Waiter grabbed me and kissed me for what seemed like forever and yet still wasn’t long enough. The sound of the confetti canons outside startled me, as did the fireworks going off from the top of the Times tower. I was so overcome with joy. And I could not stop crying.

“Welcome to the millennium, baby,” The Waiter said, kissing my face and wiping the tears. “This is going to be our year.”

“I love you,” I said.

“I love you, Red.”

“I’m crying. And drunk. At midnight,” I said. “Dammit!”

He laughed.

“These are happy tears universe!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “I want happy tears all year long!”

The band sang “Auld Lang Syne.” Afterwards, they sang “New York, New York.” The eight of us formed a circle by the windows and sang along, arm-in-arm.

I wanted time to stop. I wanted to stay like this forever. I had never been happier at any point in my life. And I was terrified that I would never be this happy again.

CHAPTER 32

◆◆◆

Pat Kiernan lied.

My favorite news anchor warned me about the cold start to my morning commute. It was ten degrees. However, he failed to mention the bitch-slapping my face would endure as I waited for the train on the 125th Street platform. By the time I got to work, I couldn’t feel my cheeks, my eyelids, or my lips, and the only thing warm on my body was the snot dripping from my nose.

It was the Tuesday after Martin Luther King Day and Jackie was back from a two-week vacation in Bermuda. The weather in New York could not have been more of a contrast. It was so cold over the long weekend that The Waiter and I never left the apartment. Daily deliveries from Kozmo sustained us with all the necessities - food, wine, DVD rentals, condoms, oatmeal raisin cookie dough, etc. I spent the entire weekend helping The Waiter prep for a meeting with a group of investors from California. They were flying out to see him and Nick this afternoon. I’d never seen him nervous before. I was equally nervous for him.

Jackie waltzed into the office with her usual bouquet of flowers and an enviable tan that made her look like Jennifer Aniston and me look like Snow Miser.

“Happy New Year, Sammy,” she said as she passed my desk. “Why don’t you grab a cappuccino and meet me in my office?”

“Will do.”

“I already made you one,” George said, handing me a cup. “You looked like you needed it.”

“I’ve never been this cold in my life.”

“It gets worse. You might want to invest in some La Mer. You’re kinda pasty.”

I laughed and hung up my coat. I opened my desk drawer to grab a legal pad and saw the holiday card I’d received from Dalton. He’d sent it to the office because he didn’t know where I lived. Inside, he’d written a long apology. An apology that six months ago I would have thought heartfelt but now found hollow. I didn’t throw it away because it said all the things I’d always wanted him to say. However, I did put two sticky notes on it - one on the outside saying “EVERYTHING IN HERE IS A LIE” and one on the inside saying “NEVER BELIEVE HIM AGAIN. SERIOUSLY SAM.”

I grabbed my cappuccino, legal pad, and Franklin Covey day planner and headed to Jackie’s office.

“Sit down, Sammy,” she said. “I’ve got good news, bad news, and good news.”

I immediately thought I was being fired. Of course, I had no reason to think Jackie wanted to fire me and I knew I’d been doing good work, but that was the first thing that came to mind.

“So, the good news is that we just got another substantial round of funding and everyone, including you, is getting a raise.”

“That’s definitely good news. But I’m bracing for the bad.”

“The bad news is that no additional headcount was approved. The board wants us to keep our team small but grow big. We’re going to have to increase the number of articles we’re publishing and attract more advertisers.”

“You’re going to pay me more to write more? That doesn’t sound