Working in a fancy restaurant has its pros, like getting paid well but it also has its cons, like the snobby rich people I have a serve and the uniforms.
I look like an idiot with a bow tie and my hair gelled back against my head, the black vest is ridiculous and the black slacks are uncomfortable especially with a sock in my pants to make a bulge. I've tried using the strap on I have but it only makes the pants more uncomfortable, I'm forced to have my sock.
Lucky for me, I don't have a lot to do besides take orders and take people to their tables. Although it's not much, dealing with 'proper' men and women, I have to undergo comments about my piercings or stretched ears. I don't bother removing them or anything, my boss had made me a deal that as long as I'm polite and do my job I can keep them in.
He did lecture me about the bruises on my face and the cut lip I have though, I had explained I had a small run-in with a crazy man that seemed to be on drugs, he bought it rather quickly. You'd think with the number of bruises I get he'd fire me for being so clumsy and unlucky enough to get in fights or whatever lie I throw at him.
Currently, I'm just standing at a counter where the drinks are, waiting on a table full of rich bastards I can serve. I'm eavesdropping on a couple that is apparently cheating on their spouses and are planning to run away to Hawaii, I don't understand how running away is easier than just asking for a divorce with the people their cheating on.
"Hunter, table 12." A waitress named Lexi grabs my attention, smiling sweetly at me as she passes me to another table.
Turning to the table she said, I see three people sitting in the booth, two men and one woman. The woman is in a short red dress that hugs her body tightly and her face is caked in makeup even if she's in her mid forty's or fifty's. The man directly next to her is in an expensive black suit and looks very serious and cold.
The last man is the youngest of them, probably their son, who is actually pretty attractive. He has a well-structured face, his lips have snake bites in them, his ears have white stretchers in them, he looks tall and strong and I can see some tattoos on his hands.
Surprisingly he's not in a suit, instead, he wears ripped black jeans and a black tight shirt with a leather jacket over it, boots on his feet and he sits laid back and relaxed with his arms on the top of the booth and his knees spread like he doesn't give a single fuck.
I say tall in the most extreme way, seeing as his knees connect to the bottom of the table and his arms look really long, it's like he's 6'6 or close to it. He's not lanky like some guys are but he has long limbs and is very muscular and fit, like a football player mixed with a basketball player.
It's impressive, he'd crush me with a single arm if he wanted. Hell, he could kill me with a small push.
I blink and shake my head, scolding myself for staring instead of doing my job as I walk to the table. I do my best to smile politely to costumers, ask how they are it how their food is as I go past them, trying to hide that I couldn't care less about them.
I hate these people, their snobby and act like their better than everyone when in reality they're just as imperfect as the rest of us. They parade their money around in the form of expensive clothes or cars, some even use cash to pay hundreds of dollars for their meals then never leave a tip.
Upon getting within feet of the table, the attractive boys' eyes turn to me, allowing me to be shocked when I see one eye is a deep brown and the other is a beautiful blue. I never saw someone with two different eye colors, maybe their contacts? Either way, I like it, it makes him unique and different.
When I'm next to the booth, the woman immediately speaks without looking up at me, "The usual, Tiffany."
I blink and raise an eyebrow, I thought Tiffany quit working here? Either way, that was rude and it irritates me. She could have at least had the respect to look at me when she's talking to me, I hate when people do that.
The boy smirks as if he's amused at my reaction, I imagine he is, a male waiter being called a female. If only he knew. If only he knew what I go through every day, his mother is no match for my parents and I'm aware of that, the shit I deal with is ridiculous enough but I also have to come here and deal with people like this, that is the most sadness though ever.
It's like no matter where I go, I'm always just entertainment for people in a higher social status like I'm unwanted and unless.
"I'm not a waitress, Mrs. And Tiffany no longer work here." I correct her, getting out of my head and forcing her head to raise to look at me.
I notice her eyes stay trained on my piercings and ears before she scans my body, she looks severely dissatisfied and displeased which only irritates me more. Her own son has piercings, she can't whine about mine, she doesn't have the right.
"I will not be served by a punk with those things in your face, go get someone else." I nearly roll my eyes as she waves her hand dismissively with a disgusted expression, I don't take this at heart, I've been called worst and see that expression every day.
It's something I have gotten used to, seeing the revulsion in my parent's eyes and face, feeling it every time one of them punch or kick me, hearing it in their tone when they yell malicious and very cruel words at me. I know not to take what this woman says to heart, I know better than to listen to people who don't know a single thing about me.
"There is no one else, Mrs. Their all busy. Also, I'm allowed to wear my piercings and they have never bothered anyone else, you're the first to complain." I tell her with a small sigh, trying to speak with as much kindness as possible even if it's hard.
I can feel the son's eyes on me, they haven't moved since I got here, it makes me anxious to have this much attention on me when I'm not getting beat. Usually when people stare its because they want to cause me harm, or when they are already tormenting me.
It makes me nervous he's much bigger than me and he could cause more damage then Joseph and his buddy's. It's intimidating, in fact, I'm so uncomfortable, I shift and inch backward as if I'll run for the hills. Seeing this, the boy's smirk widens and he leans on the table, the abrupt movement of him makes me flinch, expecting to be hit or kicked in my stomach.
His smirk falters slightly as his right eyebrow lifts in question, obviously noticing I flinched away from him.
The woman huffs, gaining my attention back, "Fine, you'll have to do." After she says this, she continues to order what she wants, being very specific as to what to put and what not to put in her food, making sure to threaten to have me fired if I put tomatoes in her salad.
I write everything down, trying to keep up with what she says and have to have another second or two to finish writing when she closes her mouth. I sigh quietly, for such a small woman she sure knows how to command someone around, damn rich people.
I look to the older man who merely orders a bloody steak and a glass of wine, thank god he isn't like his wife. I wonder how he deals with her, she seems very dramatic.
"And you, Sir?" I ask the son, turning to him seeing his smirk carved on his face again, his eyes staring intensely at me.
"You." At first, I didn't catch what his deep voice had said and simply nod and go to write it down, then my brain catches up and I pause.
Did he? No, can't be, not me. I look around me, not seeing any female waitresses or guys around me. I find it astonishing this stranger hit on me, in a good way I hope, I'm definitely not used to that.
"Excuse me, what?" I ask again, my eyebrows furrowing as I feel my face heat up, no one has ever hit on me that way before, if ever.
I'm stunned he even thought of it, guys usually avoid me because I'm either gay or they don't feel comfortable with me being Transgender. I've come to the conclusion that I'll find someone who loves me for me, and not if I'm Trans or gay after high school.
I'm willing to wait, I wouldn't want an immature prankster to play a joke on me for popularity, that's plain cruel.
"I said you, I would like you. Why don't you have a seat?" The son's deep voice has amusement in it as he watches my face redden when he pats his lap, his smirk growing.
His father is chuckling and his mother looks about ready to burst in anger as she hisses at him to shut up and order, I can't believe what's happening and my embarrassment is only increasing the longer he stares at me like he's undressing me.
That look alone causes so much anxiety in me, because the thought of sex scares me, especially when I haven't had that kind of surgery yet. I want to wait until I get it to have sex, I hate the thought of having a vagina when I get that intimate with someone.
Some people have sex when they don't have the surgery and that's perfectly fine, but for me, I just can't. I'd loathe the whole experience.
"Uh, is there anything else you'd want, something, in reality, like on the menu." Instantly his smirk disappears and his eyes harden, he's probably not custom to being told no or anything close to it.
I doubt anyone has told him no, he's attractive, intimidating and loaded. Who in their right mind would reject him? Me.
He simply shakes his head, continuing to stare at me like I'm crazy to say that to him, I probably am. He and his family seem very wealthy, he could possibly have me fired or even pay someone to kill me for a simple sentence.
I nod quickly before turning and walking away, being intimidated by his unique eyes on me and I'm not strong enough or confident enough to deal with such an intense stare. So Instead of dealing with it, I go straight to the kitchen where I give the chef the small paper filled with the orders, watching him curse when he reads it.
I stay in the kitchen where I'm safe from that boy and his fucking eyes, opting to just watch the cooks scramble to get the food ready while being screamed at by the head chef. I guess these people really are very wealthy, I haven't ever seen them or anything, I just assumed by their clothes.
I can't help but think it's possible for the son to attend my school, though I'd think they'd put him in a private school, it wouldn't be very odd if he did go to my school. A lot of the popular students are wealthy, living in big houses and have expensive cars or clothes, most of their money is from having a Doctor's parent or maybe a lawyer as a mother.
Myself, I'm not wealthy. My parents own a small flower shop, my mother loves flowers and my father just wanted to make her happy, that doesn't bring in much money and we're poor to my classmates but actually, we're just middle class.
I pay my shots and surgery's from years of saving, this job helps by paying well hourly and my other job just adds to whatever I earn here. I do help pay bills when we can't or help my mother pay for groceries when she lets me come along to the store.
But I hope that boy doesn't attend my school, if he does there's a good chance he'll track me down in class or something and teach me a lesson for speaking to him like that. I couldn't help it, I was shocked and I can't control what comes from my mouth at times, that's probably another reason I'm bullied.
If he does, at least I'd be beaten by someone more attractive than most of, even all the guys, at school. That'd be a promotion.
I blink when I'm handed the tray of food, next thing I know I'm being pushed from the kitchen, being lectured about watching my mouth and being polite by the chef. I guess this family had threatened everyone's jobs, how wealthy are they?
I balance the tray on my right hand, weaving through people expertly as I walk, I've done this so many times over the years that I learned the perfect technique to balancing a tray filled with food. Just be hyper-aware of where you're going and who's in your way.
As I walk back to the table, I feel and see the son's eyes on me again, making it hard to concentrate. He stares at me like I'm the prey and he's the predator, which if we where animals, he would be. Hell, he is now, he's bigger and stronger, I'd run if he came at me with the intention of harming me. Again, something that will happen eventually.
I make it to the table without dropping anything no matter how impossible it was not to with his attention in me for so long, I managed to avoid eye contact which seemed to help even the slightest.
"Here you go, enjoy." I politely say like I'm required to do as I place the parent's food in front of them, noticing that husband nods thanks, the wife just huffs again.
Talk about snobby, she's the worst person I've served in my two years of working here. I'm glad I won't get them when they return, I'll have another person so it, I can't deal with the son and his mother at the same time.
I turn to leave, but a hand catches my wrist making me flinch then freeze as my body tenses and I look at whoever has rudely grabbed me, seriously these people are the most disrespectful people I've met. Besides my own parents, of course.
I see an enormous hand wrapped completely around my wrist, tattoos on it that disappear under the sleeve of a leather jacket that belongs to a certain unique eyed boy.
"Do I know you?" His voice is impossibly deeper and filled with curiosity, a tone I'd never expect him to have or show.
I simply blink at him, I haven't met him before, I'd recall his eyes. But it's reasonable if he goes to my school that he saw Joseph beating me, I wouldn't doubt that happening because when he does people usually crowd around and watch. Today they were too busy catching up with friends and such to notice much.
"No, I don't think so. I don't know you. Sorry." I answer him, taking my wrist back from his grip and continuing to another table to get in with my life and job.
I'll probably never see him again. Unless he surprises me tomorrow with a beating.