Everveil

“Excuse me!” A voice cut through the busy restaurant. “Excuuuse me!”

Fuck me. Kinsley thought her shoulders tightening as she forced a smile and turned on her heel toward her booth of two. “Yes, ma’am?” she asked walking up. “How can I help you?”

“Our food has been taking forever!” the woman stated, setting her wine glass down. Kinsley took in a soft breath, forcing the smile to stay.

“Ma’am, as my host said when you were seated, and as I said when I greeted you, our ticket times for food are around half an hour right now-”

“Why!?” The woman cut her off. “Are you lying? Did you forget to put it in!?”

Fucking rude. The thought bubbled into Kinsley’s head.

“No, ma’am, I can promise you I did not forget to put it in. The kitchen is just backed up.”

“Why are you backed up? Can you not do your job?” the woman demanded, tilting her head. Her bob—teased to hell and back—didn’t so much as tilt with her. Kinsley forced her eyes away from the hair choice and brought her customer service voice up another octave.

“We are doing our job. They are working as fast as they can.”

“This is ridiculous. We come here all the time, and it always takes so long for-”

Then why the fuck do you keep coming back here? Kinsley thought as she drowned out the customer’s lecture. “Sorry about the wait ma’am, I’ll go check on the kitchen for you again.”

“You go do that-” the woman mocked, picking up her wine glass. “-and bring my husband another beer.” Kinsley turned on her heel, taking the chance to flee. She rounded the corner only to see a full bar and no bartender.

What the fuck. Kinsley huffed a breath and moved to the server-side station connected to the bar. Two coworkers were gathered on the dark red tile, just staring at the empty bar. Kinsley frowned, wondering what they were staring at while grabbing a to-go cup and lid.

“Where in the fuck is the bartender at now!?” Becky with her signature slicked-back hair, asked, not turning to look at anyone. Kinsley shrugged, not knowing while scooping ice into the cup. “He always takes off without saying anything!”

Janet came storming up to the station, “Where the hell is Savannah? She is nowhere to be found, and her entire section needs shit, and I am too busy for this shit!”

Maddie gave up watching the bar, turned to the terminal and logged in, “She is probably crying in the walk-in again.”

Kinsley glanced over while setting the sour mix down and saying nothing.

“No, I ran trash out,” Beck said, smoothing a black strand down while staring at her reflection, “and saw her outside smoking.”

Maddie nodded, “I bet that is where Mark is. Busy as shit night, his whole bar rail looks like they need shit, the server drinks are piling up and instead of being inside, he is outside getting high with her, because you know he is trying to sleep with her.”

“Why do we tip him out?” Janet wondered, staring at the ceiling. Kinsley shrugged, not getting in the middle of this while she started mixing the contents of the to-go cup.

“Kinsley!” Becky suddenly looked away from her reflection. “Please make my drinks!”

“No.” Kinsley answered, looking for where she placed her to-go cup.

“But you’re a shift lead, you are allowed back there.”

Kinsley shook her head, finding the lid. “Greg is weighing all the bottles because the pours are off. Anyone back here has to be held responsible, and I have seen Mark making drinks. He used triple sec instead of vodka and ignored me when I tried correcting him, so no chance in hell am I touching shit back here.”

“You are making a drink right now.” Becky pointed.

“This is a mocktail for Jermany; Greg doesn’t care about these.” Kinsley explained.

Janet looked up from the screen, “Hey Becky?”

“What?” Becky asked, not hiding the annoyance in her tone.

“Was Savannah outside vaping or smoking?”

“Uh...” Becky blinked, Kinsley glanced over while grabbing a straw. “She was hitting her pen, I think. Why?”

“That bitch said she forgot her weed pen and has been using mine all shift!” Janet threw a crumpled receipt into the trash. “Kinsley go yell at them to come inside!”

Kinsley snorted. “You do it.”

“You are the shift lead!”

“And yet none of you care when I tell you to get off your phones and do your jobs.” Kinsley countered.

“Kinsley I neeeed drinks!” Beck whined.

“And I need forty-two to stop trying to crawl down my throat and steal my soul, I am just a server today. Go drag Greg out of the office.”

Kinsley pushed past the swinging doors into the kitchen, and the noise hit her full force. Music blasted from a speaker over the hiss of fryers, plates clattered, and everyone shouted over the music and one another to be heard.

“Can someone please turn that shit down!?” Emma, the expo person, asked again for the fourth time that night. A cook shouted back “Hell no,” making Emma sigh and turn her attention back to the plates of food piling beneath the heat lamps. “Where are my fries!? I am missing so many fucking fries! Stop bumping tickets if I don’t have the fries!”

Kinsley bit the inside of her cheek. No. No chance in hell was she walking through that mess right now. She slipped around the handwashing station instead, squeezing past the shelf currently housing abandoned drinks from the back of the house and peeked around the corner toward the grill.

Jermany glanced away from the flat top. “What are you doing?” He raised an eyebrow; Kinsley quietly held up the to-go cup and gave it a little shake. Jermany narrowed his eyes at her.

“Will you please push forty two’s order?” Kinsley asked.

Jermany looked up at the main screen, “We can’t even see that table yet.”

“I know, and I never ask this, but please. She is either going to kill me, or I’ll lose my job tonight.”

“You Ms. Shift Lead, know we aren’t supposed to push orders ahead just because you asked nicely.”

“Yeah, I know, buuut...” Kinsley shook the drink, “You are the head cook and can do it.”

“Kinsley, every server is asking for their tables’ food.”

“What if I clean the fryer baskets tonight for you?” Kinsley added, shaking the cup, “I also brought you a bribe.”

Jermany sighed, “This table is that much of a bitch?”

Kinsley nodded, “I don’t know if it’s the extra hours this week getting to me, or if she is just the final boss of Karens, but I just can’t tonight.”

Jermany nodded, taking the cup. “Fine.”

Kinsley perked up, “You are the best!” she sang while sneaking away. She then heard Jermany ask what table it was again and quickly spun back around. “Forty-two Jermany!” She heard him laughing as she huffed, called him an asshole and returned to the dining room and immediately scanned her section. The couple at forty-two were chatting with each other, not looking around for her. Perfect. She grabbed empty plates from thirty-eight as she passed. “How was everything?”

“Good.” The older man grunted, leaning back and letting her reach his empty glass. “Tell whoever made that steak I could kiss him.”

Kinsley smiled while stacking his plate on top of his wife’s. “I will tell him, but I have to warn you, he is married and might have an objection to that.” The couple chuckled at the cheesy joke, letting Kinsley sneak away and move around her section.

“Kins!” Kinsley turned, seeing a regular staring wide eyed, holding up his glass.

“I got you!” she called, turning on her heel toward the bar and adding to the list already running in her head. Soda for forty-one, ranch for thirty-nine, check on the appetizer for thirty-six, another beer and wine—fuck, wine—Kinsley looked over at forty-two.

Fuck, I really don’t wanna go over here. Kinsley watched the couple for a moment. The blonde woman was munching on a breadstick, drinks were good; her husband’s beer wasn’t even half empty, they were occupied. Kinsley turned before eye contact could be made and scurried away.

“Ma’am can I get a box?”

Kinsley looked over at her coworker’s table. “No, unfortunately you have to finish that here.” The man stared. Kinsley then chuckled, touching his shoulder. “I’m joking. I’ll be right back.” She strolled away as she heard him chuckle.

Back inside the kitchen, she walked past expo, Emma was still yelling about fries. Kinsley dropped off her dirty dishes at the dish, grabbed the ranch she had nearly forgotten about, turned to the soda machine and poured a soda. Becky strolled past just then; Kinsley glanced over, “Your two top needs boxes.” Becky grunted, pulling out her phone from her apron and asking for some fries to snack on.

“Do you see any fries!?” Emma snapped, gesturing toward the expo window.

“Okay, geez.” Becky huffed, unlocking her phone. Kinsley logged onto the computer to ring in drinks.

Emma didn’t look up, “Kinsley, your forty-two is up.”

Fuck yes! Kinsley turned, “I love you so much right now,” she said, loading her ranch cups and soda onto the tray.

Becky frowned, “How the hell is your table up before mine?”

Kinsley chose to ignore that. Emma looked up from the stack of tickets in her hand, “You know you can come back, right? You don’t have to balance everything together.”

Kinsley smiled. “And do extra steps?”

“Riiight-” Emma nodded, “-you’re the one with the bad knee.”

Kinsley gasped. “What do you mean, I am the one? You getting me mixed up with the other servers?” She added extra sauce on the side because she already knew they were going to ask.

“There are so many of you.” Emma hummed.

“Oh yeah.” Kinsley nodded with a smile. “I forget we servers all look alike.”

“Don’t you have food to run?” Emma scowled.

“I always make time to harass my favorite expo.”

Emma laughed, “Your food is dying.”

Kinsley mocked her while walking away, “Your food is dying!” She quickly pushed through the swinging doors, balancing the tray as she headed toward her section. She swung by the bar, spotting her beer. While she punched the ticket, she glanced at the three servers staring at Mark while he looked up cocktail recipes. She said nothing while moving away, dropping off the beer to her regular first. “Here is your ranch.” She dropped the cups at thirty-nine without stopping, moving on to the next table. “And one refill.”

The couple at forty-two were already watching her approach. Kinsley took in a breath. “Here we are.” She lowered the tray and started unloading the plates. “Careful, these are hot.”

The woman frowned. “It’s about time. You stopped at every table while holding our food. Thought you were never going to get here.”

Kinsley smiled, ignoring the statement. “Can I grab you anything else, more sauces maybe?”

“No.” The woman snapped, waving her hand at Kinsley, “We’re fine.”

“Alright, enjoy.”

Kinsley turned away before another complaint could be thought of; she made another lap through her section, clearing empty glasses, dropping off food, and chatting with her regular.

“Excuse me!” That same fucking voice carried over the restaurant. It was a talent, really.

Fuck me. Kinsley smiled at her regular, excused herself and turned. The woman at forty-two was waving her over. Kinsley moved, taking a long breath before reaching the booth. “Yes, ma’am?”

“All of this...” The woman flicked her hands above the plate, “...is cold.”

Kinsley glanced down at the plate that burned her hand. “Cold?”

“That is what I said, isn’t it?” the woman snapped. “Yes, it is cold!”

For a moment, Kinsley’s mind buffered. “Uh....” She had watched Emma pull it from the window. She took it right to the table, aside from two fucking stops that took maybe a second each “...Okay, I can have the kitchen remake it for you.”

The woman’s face twisted. “And wait another thirty minutes? No!”

“I can have the kitchen prioritize the remake— ”

“No, I am hungry now. I am not waiting again.” The woman glared. Kinsley pressed her lips together.

“Yes ma’am. If you don’t want it remade, do you want something else instead or—”

“I said no.”

Kinsley stared at the woman. I do not know what solution you expect me to pull out of my asshole. “Okay, well, if you change your mind, just let me know and I’ll have them remake it.”

Kinsley turned and walked away after the woman refused to acknowledge her any longer. She returned to her regulars’ table, where Jim huffed a laugh. “That woman is a bitch!” he whispered.

Kinsley gave him a look. “You have no idea, Jim.” Kinsley chatted with him and his girlfriend a bit longer; her eyes kept drifting toward her tables. She watched the wonderful woman from forty-two get up and head to the restroom.

“Some people are just unhappy and have to take it out on others to make themselves feel better.” Emily—the girlfriend—spoke up, watching as well.

“Yeah, you’re right. Just wish someone wouldn’t take it out on the person who isn’t cooking, you know? Like ma’am, I am just a server. I am waiting with you.”

The table chuckled and talked about their plans after dinner. Kinsley glanced around automatically and caught Greg, out of the office for once, and greeting forty-two.

What the fuck?

Jim looked over. “What is that about?”

“No idea,” Kinsley replied, watching.

“Are you gonna go over there?” Emily asked.

Kinsley shook her head. “No, it’s rude, and it’ll be worse if I go over there and stare them down while they complain to my manager.”

“You think they are complaining?” Emily asked.

“I’ll bet my paycheck on it.” Kinsley snorted.

“You get a paycheck?” Jim joked.

Kinsley shrugged. “Hey, two bucks is still two bucks.”

“Fair.” Jim nodded, agreeing. The trio watched until Greg walked away toward the server station, then Kinsley followed. “Come back and tell us!” Jim loudly whispered.

Kinsley walked up to Greg at the terminal. “Why were you over at forty-two?”

“They had some thoughts about their experience tonight.” Greg replied, making Kinsley snort.

“Oh, I bet they do. What did they say?”

“That the food was cold, you offered to do nothing about it, and you weren’t very...present, tonight. Which, when I walked out here, you were more interested in chatting with that one table than doing your job.”

“I do my job,” Kinsley stated. “Go table-touch any of my other tables and ask if I have been present. I stopped for two minutes to say hi to my regulars.”

“That isn’t what they said.”

“I don’t care what they said. I am telling you what happened,” Kinsley retorted.

“Kinsley, what do you expect me to believe when I walk out here and you’re standing there just chatting with Jim and his new flavor of the week?”

“Okay, first, Jim is like the nicest guy, and he has been with Emily for months. He isn’t like that. Second, you should believe what your shift lead is telling you, the job of which you gave me.”

“Kinsley, I am comping the food—”

“Why? They didn’t even wait the full time. I had Jermany push their ticket. They waited like twenty minutes, the food was as perfect as it can get and-”

“You had Jermany do what?”

“Greg—”

“No, you cannot go back there and push your table’s food above the others. That isn’t allowed.”

“I know that—”

“Then why did you do it?”

“Because she was pissed off when she walked in, she was pissed off when she sat down, I did everything in my power to make her happy and I couldn’t and now—”

“So, because you can’t do your job-”

“I do my job, and I do it very well,” Kinsley stated, “Do not imply I do not.”

“Kinsley—”

“No, Greg. I am on my sixth day in a row here. I am freaking tired, I am doing this as a favor to you, and you couldn’t even back me up with a table!”

“It isn’t that deep, Kinsley. It’s not like I am taking it out of your pay.”

“No, it just rewards the bullshit behavior, and they keep coming back knowing they can do it again and get more free shit.”

“I am taking off her meal.”

“Then you can finish closing out the table.” Kinsley stated, turning on her heel and walking away.

“I am not doing your job.” Greg called.

“Well according to you, I clearly don’t, so...” Kinsley called back, still walking away back toward her section.

Jim and Emily perked up when they saw her, waving her over for the gossip. She sighed, walking over, aggressively ignoring forty-two and the woman staring smugly at her.

“What happened?” Emily quickly asked as soon as Kinsley got close enough.

Kinsley sighed, rubbing her face as she leaned on Emily’s chair. “Greg is a fucking asshole.”

----

The restaurant music was off, and the last of the customers had finally walked out. Kinsley finished cleaning her section and stood back looking at it to make sure she didn’t forget anything. She glanced at the empty table, forty fucking two. Zero tip on that entire meal, yet she still had to tip out on the wine and beer. Whatever. She turned and jumped, “Son of a bitch!” she cursed, seeing Jermany standing behind her. “Make a sound! You scared the shit outta me!”

Jermany laughed, amused. “You promised to do the baskets and yet, they aren’t finished.”

“We closed like half an hour ago.” Kinsley glanced at her watch. “I’m getting back there.”

“We need the sinks; the baskets are in the way,” Jermany informed her, Kinsley sighed and nodded.

“Okay, I’ll be back there in a moment,” Kinsley said untying her apron. Jermany nodded and headed back to the kitchen.

Emma walked out of the restroom and glanced over. “Heard you bit off Greg’s head tonight. Why?”

“I didn’t bite his...” Kinsley sighed, rubbing her temple, “...he just comped food off a table that shouldn’t have been comped and didn’t back me up.”

Emma snorted, “That sounds like him. You could blink wrong at that man, and he’ll comp shit just so he doesn’t have to keep standing there.”

“He’s a fucking asshole.”

“Ooo, someone is cranky.” Emma sang.

“It is fucking Sunday, leave me alone.” Kinsley said, walking toward the back. Emma followed.

“Well, at least you have tomorrow off, right?”

“I still have class tomorrow.” Kinsley grumbled. “Semester starts.”

“Ew.”

“Yeah.” Kinsley nodded, walking across expo to the dish, then stopped confused. The baskets were sitting there, clean and drying. “What...?”

“You thought I was gonna make you do that?” Jermany asked, Kinsley turned. Jermany flashed a smile. “Come on, Kins, you’ve had a rough day. Go home. Sleep.”

“You are my favorite,” Kinsley breathed.

Jermany barked a laugh. “I am everyone’s favorite. Now go home.”

“Thank you!”

Kinsley didn’t need to be told twice to clock out and leave. She couldn’t tell you one thing that happened during the silent drive home. She blinked, and she was home.

“Don’t know how I’m alive,” she muttered to herself, walking inside her dark apartment and closing the door. She locked it and looked around. Silence. Her roommates were already in bed.

Lucky bastards. Kinsley kicked off her shoes and put them on the rack. She glanced over and saw her roommate’s tabby cat sitting on the round table just watching her. “You know you’re not supposed to be on the table,” Kinsley told the cat who just blinked at her. Kinsley huffed, walking over and shooing her off the table. “Asshole cat,” Kinsley grumbled, heading to her room.

After a quick shower and changing into pajamas, Kinsley stood in the kitchen, light on, staring into the fridge for something for dinner. Her eyes landed on a container of fried rice from two nights before. She shrugged, good enough. She grabbed it and dumped it onto a paper plate. The rice slid out in one solid block, keeping the same shape as the container.

Kinsley stared at it, looked at the container, then back to the plate. “Probably still good.” She nodded, shoving it into the microwave and hitting a few buttons before pulling a pan from the cabinet to cook an egg to add to it.

While stirring the egg, she reached down and rubbed her aching knee. She blinked, tilting her head when she spotted a fucking hairball sitting beside her foot. She looked over at the cat, who sat in the entryway watching her.

“You are so fucking lucky I didn’t step in that.” Kinsley glared at the hairball. “You are like two inches from the hardwood floor. Why couldn’t you have just thrown up on that?” The cat blinked, slowly purring. “Asshole cat,” Kinsley muttered, taking the pan off the heat and placing it aside.

She picked up the rug and tossed it with the rest of the dirty laundry, too tired to care about it. She walked back only to find the cat had hopped back onto the table again. Kinsley groaned. “No, down.” The cat stared, making Kinsley walk to her to swat her off the table. “Asshole.”

Kinsley grabbed the rice from the microwave, scraped the egg onto it, and pulled an ice pack from the freezer. She glanced over her shoulder at the cat, who now sat on the floor watching her. “Asshole cat,” Kinsley muttered again, slowly walking to her room and shutting the door.