By the end of the night, I’d dropped three beers, tipped over two bottles of wine, and dumped an entire tray of food.
Kiki was ready to murder me. I didn’t blame her a bit, but none of it was my fault. It was all Ada. That damn woman was all goo-goo over that slimy piece of s**t she called her boyfriend. She sat on his lap and kissed him and completely missed it when he checked out the waitress.
I could barely breathe, let alone serve food to a bunch of people who were happy and oblivious to the fact that I was ready to knock someone out.
“Are you sick again?” Kiki asked when she caught up to me after one more spilled tray. Thankfully that one was empty plates, but she was still pissed.
“I’m fine.”
“Then get your s**t together. It’s going to cost me more than I paid you all night to r
