Crash (A Billionaire Contract Romance)

Sweat, Resumes, and Dissapointment

I didn't think that finding a job would be so difficult, I've been walking around for hours now. This is my third day out and I feel like I've applied to out at least fifty places but most people have to keep saying they aren't looking right now or they'll get ahold me, which I can't depend on I need something.

At least an interview.

My money is flying out of my pocket. I won't be stuck penniless.

It’s hot and humid, the sign above the bank across the street says it's 87 degrees. I use the back of my hand to wipe the sweat off my forehead. Tipping my head back I gulp down a large amount of water that's already warm. My feet hurt and my body is begging me to go back to my apartment that has air conditioning and a nice cold shower, my need for employment outweighing my exhaustion.

There's one more place I saw the other day. I've never waitressed for a fine dining restaurant so I doubt I have a good chance here, but I’m desperate the worst I can do is not try. I'll put my resume in then head home.

I pull the doors opened of El Tentacion pleasantly surprised by the cold air. I knew this place was nice, just not this nice. I've never, nor do I think I will ever eat in a restaurant as prestigious and elegant as this one.

There’s a giant chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The lights are on low, fine china and silverware are set up on all the tables. Candles flicker in the middle of each table setting on top crystal holders centered on red table clothes.

Over to the right, there's a glass door in front of an endless supply of wine. People dressed in name-brand suits and dresses sit at the tables talking low to one another. Music that reminds me of my grandpa plays through the speakers. Waitresses and waiters are walking slowly and deliberately with their hands full of wine glasses, entrees, and desserts.

In front of me stands a tall handsome man with short brown hair and chocolate brown eyes. He's wearing a white button-down dress shirt with a black vest on top and black dress pants. He's probably six feet tall. Boston must have special water or some s**t, I swear I've seen more gorgeous guys for the past four days than I ever did back home.

"How can I help you, Miss?" He asks eyeing me up and down. I'm not dressed for this place. I've been sweating for hours now, I can only imagine what a mess I must look like. I’ve worn make-up that’s probably running down my face at this point and left my wavy hair down around my face but it kept sticking to my face so I pulled it back.

By now it’s probably matted to my face and frizzy as hell. Maybe I should go home and come back tomorrow.

It’s too late now. I have to say something.

"I was wondering if I could get a job application?" He looks me up from my head to my toes trying to decide if he should waste his time finding an application when he won't even look it over.

"Do you have serving experience?"

"I've never served in a fine dining restaurant, but I've been serving for six years now." I started serving when I was eighteen tips are good and it's helpful when you can bring cash home after every shift. "I'm a fast learner and am willing to host or do whatever for the time being."

"I just had a waitress walk out, we’re already understaffed, and we have a big party coming in this weekend. If you can go home and make yourself presentable be back here by eight am tomorrow and you can come to do a trial run, see if we think you’ll make the cut.” His voice is weary.

“Perfect, thank you! I’ll be here!” Yes! Yes! Yes! Finally, something better than we’ll call you. Finally, I can go home and bake in peace not worrying about what I’m going to do next and if I made a huge f*****g mistake moving here.

I’m halfway out the door when he says, "Sweetheart what's your name I need to put you on the schedule." I walk back over to my new manager and offer my hand feeling foolish for forgetting to even introduce myself, what a great impression.

"I'm Aria Crawford. Thank you so much for this opportunity," I say enthusiastically well shaking his hand harder and faster than necessary. He laughs in return giving me a charming smile.

"I'm Josh Marshall. Let me get you a uniform and a quick tour before you run out of here." I follow him around the restaurant surprised at the size of the kitchen. Everything is new and shiny certainly kept clean, the smell is mouthwatering. The cooks wear all white with aprons on. There's a back office to put our stuff in and a giant walk-in freezer that feels even better than air conditioning.

After he hands me my uniform, a menu to study, and all the mandatory paperwork I head back home. Shocked when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair is just as I excepted it stuck to my head full of sweat and frizz. That’s not even the worst, I have black mascara underneath my blue eyes mixed with my cheeks that are beet red from the heat I look downright scary.

I take a long cold shower and spend the rest of the night studying the menu and sorting through the rest of my things.

***

So far the day has been going well, I was nervous this morning terrified of making a mistake I couldn't imagine having to pay if I dropped a plate worth more than my weekly paycheck has ever been.

I read the menu until I fell asleep last night committing most of it to memory. My coworkers all seem to be nice I haven't had much time to talk to anyone but Jamie my very relaxed trainer.

Josh just threw me in the mix as soon as I got here. Told Jamie to show me the ropes and walked away. She did to a point but they are busy and I’m already taking a table on my own. I don't mind I would much rather learn as I go, making money in the process than sitting around watching other people make money.

Still, the pressure is intense.

In Buffalo, I worked at this little bar and pub in East Aurora. The menu was basic, 12 different burgers, salads, appetizers, some sides, and lots and lots of Draft Blue. The customers were my family, the village was closed-knit, most faces I knew, Jerry was a regular, always came in on Tuesday nights, sat at back left corner table. He grabbed a bowl full of peanuts off the bar and brought it to his table every time he came.

He always ordered crown on the rocks, a cowboy burger, and a side of veggies. He never ate the veggies only ever finished half the burger, and sipped the crown. He left a mess of peanut shells around the table that took days to fully clean up, but he was there every Tuesday, a new joke on his lips and a twinkle in his eye.

When I said goodbye to my coworkers and customers I was close to tears, it was only a waitressing job at a local bar, it barely paid enough for anything extra, and I always smelled like fried food when I left l, but it was my second home, a little family that never got too close. Not close enough to hurt me anyways.

I loved working there. Made more apparent by every brush-off and dirty look I received today. I always felt as though I was an equal before. Here I’m nothing more than the help. The customers have an arrogance about them. An air of power and money. They demanded they be treated like royalty, in return they treated me as dirt.

I shouldn't complain. I may be treated badly, ignored and talked over most the time but at least they leave generous tips. Yet, I can't help it when my mind wanders back to Jerry and his friendly face.

I push opened the heavy metal door, hanging on to it so it doesn't slam shut as I take a nice big breath of heavy, hot, fresh air. Taking a look around the ally I notice it isn't as big as I would have thought but Josh said its where all the employees take their breaks.

There's a little wooden bench with white paint peeling, pushed against the side of the building, leaving room for someone to walk In between the adjacent building and the bench. The ground is littered in trash and stained with grease alongside other things I don't what to know about.

Sitting at the bench is another waitress I’ve seen around all day. Although I didn’t have much time to introduce myself, she was handing me food that was for one of my tables while I was searching for it, giving me smiles of encouragement or answering a question when I had one.

"Hey, Tara, right? I'm Aria.” I say holding my hand out to shake, she returns the gesture with a friendly smile on her face as she nods her head, her vivid red ponytail bouncing with her movements. “Thanks for your help in there, it gets pretty crazy huh?”

“Yeah, it can be a mad house in there lately. We should have more staff but people keep dropping like flies.” There’s something in her voice that pokes at my curiosity but she just keeps poking at her salad.

“Getting new jobs or…?”

She leans in lowering her voice to a whisper. “We have certain standards we have to uphold, the clientele, they are rich and powerful. The things you hear can be dangerous if the media gets ahold of any of it were the first they suspect.

“Not to mention the fetish these men have to slum it with the help. They’ll bed anyone they meet just because they can. It leads to a lot of demands to the upper management to get rid of certain employees and they never refuse their wealthy customers.” Her honesty is surprising as well as useful.

“Wow, crazy. They are really that important?” I didn’t know many of the people in there, but I could tell they were rich and powerful, you have to have certain amount of money to eat here I just don’t know what were talking about here. Who are these people?

“I could feel the way they look at you like you’re not important, and I how they talk to you like you really aren’t human. A little degrading, but I figured it just comes at a price. The tips their leaving they seem to be worth it to keep my mouth shut and not sleep with any of the customers’ husbands.”

"These people may be rich arrogant bastards, but you keep a smile on your face and never mess up their order, say anything they don’t like, or cross the line in really any way, you get paid really well." She pulls away to bring her fork to her mouth.

I didn't remember to bring a lunch and I don't know what the discount policy is, if there even is one. I could buy something but the prices are outrageous and although I'm doing much better than I anticipated this still isn't enough and won’t be until I open the doors to Shirley’s Café. Named after my grandmother whom my loving of baking comes from.

“I can handle that. It won’t be the first time I have to shut up and smile.” She nods trying to gulp down the bite of salad that she's chewing on. My stomach growls, but I can wait till I get home.

"Where did you work before this?"

"I just moved here from Buffalo, I worked at a little restaurant back home The West End grill and bar. I had my regulars they paid well, especially around the holidays but never this much!"

"Buffalo? That's cool, have you been to Niagara Falls?" Her eyes perk up, growing big and wide. She looks like a child that's just been told they are going to Chucky Cheese. It’s weird to get that reaction, back home it’s just so common that you rarely even talk about it with your friends unless you’re about to go over to Canada and hanging out on Clifton Hill.

"Yeah a ton of times it's only about a half hour from where I lived. I'd go there with my friends sometimes. It's beautiful have you ever been?"

"No I've always wanted to take a trip to see it, I just haven't gotten around to it. Why'd you move here?" The dreaded question that I know is only bound to be on repeat for the next month or so.

"I've always wanted to move to Boston so here I am!" I raise my hands with a smile, for the first time in a long time I’m enjoying myself. Even just a little.

I've been so down and depressed from everything, then I knew I was going to move here I became so focused on making it happen I haven’t really had time to just be let alone start healing. Even now I still hurt, I might always but right now in this moment I can smile for a minute. Happy to be sitting here chatting with my hopefully new coworker under the warm sun.

"That's awesome! All by yourself?" I nod. "Wow I wish I had your guts, I would love to get up and move somewhere, experience life outside of my comfort zone. I've never really gone out of Massachusetts."

"You should absolutely go see it, let me know if you’re ever planning a trip I can give you recommendations on places to go. Places travel sights won’t be able to tell you about.”

“Definitely will! I have a pretty good vacation fund going right now, when I start planning Niagara Falls is on the list for sure! When do you work till today?”

“Six, I’m thinking it’s a good thing I don’t know if I’m ready for the dinner rush. What about you?”

“I’m working a double today and tomorrow. Friday and Saturday I work nights. The money is amazing during the lunch rush, out of this world for dinner and weekends.”

“I’m lucky Josh is giving me a chance I was not expecting to find anything that paid as well as this.”

“Just don’t do anything stupid and you’ll fit in great! I have to get back, it was nice talking with you, let me know if you need anything!” With that, she’s gone taking her empty salad container with her.

The next three weeks fly by as I get into the swing of things. Josh gave me a permanent job after the first week, said I was doing great but that I had to prove I was ready to pull dinner and weekend shifts. But I still see Tara a few times a week and she quickly becomes a good work friend. The only type of relationship I’m good with from anyone.

It’s nice because I can keep my distance. I don’t need to tell her my sob story or be wary of what she might hear around town as I did back home. She’s fun to talk to at work, helping the time go by while spilling all the latest gossip on who’s who.

I quickly learn all the tricks around the restaurant where to stand to hear more gossip, how to get to the kitchen the fast way, which chief to talk to when you need something and all the tricks to the register.

Josh is really nice he helps me out a lot and flirts with me more than I would like but I know how to handle him. Tara calls him a man w***e and has quite a few stories about his personal life, I have a feeling something went wrong between the two of them. The way she avoids him at all costs, she never looks him in the eye when they do happen to be in the same area, not to mention the way she says his name like some sort of disease. I haven’t had the courage to ask her about it yet, not wanting to make her talk about something she’s not ready to. I think she gets that about me too.

Whenever my past gets brought up I always veer the conversation to safer territory, preferring to leave that subject alone for the time being. I’m hoping to avoid it, but Tara is energetic, playful, she’ll sweep you up in her storm and demand attention. She’s been asking me to hang out after work for that last week now, I’ve been able to worm my way out of it so far but I don’t see it lasting much longer before I’m joining her on some sort of adventure.

I’ve been making good tips, more so than I dreamed of, allowing me to put money aside every week for the bakery and a little extra to spend on things I want to like this really awesome mirror I fell in love with, its green with this lemon shaped pattern going around the middle of the frame. The paint is rusted away in spots. It matches the wooden rustic picture frames I have hanging on my walls and the clock I bought yesterday for my kitchen. All from a second-hand store that I found a block away from my apartment.

Everything is well inside my limited budget. I didn’t plan on spending money on decorations and unnecessary purchases however I can’t help but want to make my apartment into a home I can be proud of. It’s my space, I’ve never had that before, coming home to a place I enjoy being is new.

It’s wonderful.