Eat The Rich (bxb)

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Chapter Four

MICAH BLEU



The next few days felt like hell, not being able to get our money problems out of my head for five minutes so I could just relax. Valentina contacted our landlord but received nothing but "read what the letter said" back. I wanted to scream from the top of a building to vent my frustration.

Valentina was trying to keep me positive with ways to cut down on spending so we could afford the extra rent, not like our living was already tight as it is. She devised us a plan to try and save us a few pounds here and there, most of it involved being out of the house as much as possible so that our bills on electricity would at least go down a little bit.

So I actively accepted more shifts at the restaurant to try and keep things afloat for the time being. Marco questioned why but I didn't tell him the reasonings.

By Wednesday I already felt like I had been hit by a car, working endless hours and studying in between. I couldn't concentrate to save my life and I knew that Marco was concerned about me, no matter how hard I tried to cover it up.

Currently covering over six tables, including Weston and a bunch of his clients . They hadn't been here before, not that I could remember. Taking a bottle of red wine over to their table and turning their wine glasses face up, none of them barely acknowledging my presence.

Cracking the bottle of wine open and placing one hand behind my back as I fill their glasses with my other hand. Starting at the end of the table and making my way towards Weston, his glass the last I fill.

My movements are a little too quick for my liking because everything in my mind was running a million miles an hour and it wouldn't stop. Bending my wrist backwards as I pour the bottle, the wine just missing his glass and wafts a gush of wind in his direction. His glass spilling over onto the table before crashing down on the floor. Shattering into pieces, red wine now dripping down the white table cloth and onto Weston's tailored trousers.

Weston shows a sudden shock which only snaps me back into the room, everyone now turning to see what had happened.

"Oh my God," I cry out, my cheeks beginning to burn with heat from the sheer embarrassment. "I am so, so sorry."

Weston lets out a strained grunt as he holds his hands away from the spilt liquid. "It's fine," he says after a few moments. There isn't a hint of annoyance or anger in his voice, he just sounded slightly agitated.

"Let me get you a cloth and some napkins and I'll clean up the glass and get you another," I say before shooting up from the floor, my legs feeling wobbly and unstable.

Avoiding the gaze of everyone who was now watching me like a hawk. Marco is by my side in an instant. "Micah, what is up with you?" He asks in a hushed tone as I grab all the things I needed to clean up my mess.

"Nothing," I mumble back. "I'm sorry, I'll clean it up and offer what I can to apologise for my mistake."

My feet scurry over to their table as I hand Weston over a damp cloth and thick napkins. "Here," I say before dropping to my knees again. "I'm so sorry, it was an accident."

Weston's feet shuffle as I attempt to sweep the glass into a dustpan, my knees soaked from the wine. "I said it's okay," he says his voice now somewhat calmer.

"We're not paying for that bottle you know," the guy from beside him peeks over at me on the floor, his eyes looking back at me unimpressed. "We don't expect this kind of behaviour at a place like this, I thought this place is meant to be professional."

I just wanted the floor to eat me alive and get me out of this deathly situation, swallowing harshly and nodding towards him. Weston shakes his head in defence. "No, it was an accident and it's fine," he says as he turns back to me.

His dark eyes softening at the sight of my flush red face, fuck me I wanted to cry and hide in my bed forever. "No it's not fine," the guy interrupts again. "I've never had this kind of experience at a Michelin Star restaurant and I expect better."

"People make mistakes and he has apologised," Weston argues back. "Let's leave it at that, okay?"

I wasn't sure how to feel because right now I felt speechless. Blinking back at him, my whole body almost going into shock from how understanding he was.

My hands shake as I sweep the last shards of glass into the dustpan and standing up instantly. "If there is anything I can do at all to make your experience better, please do let me know." I say with as much confidence in my voice as possible.

Weston nods towards me and offers a smile. "No worries,"

"I'll get you guys another bottle of wine," I nod once before shooting off into the kitchen and disposing of the broken glass safely.

"Hey man," Abel says quietly from behind me. "Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?"

I shake my head towards him. "Honestly there is nothing wrong," I lie. "I'm just tired, that's all."

Abel stares back at me as I move away and grab another bottle of red wine, his eyes watch on looking concerned but I ignore get back to work. Now wasn't the time to crack, especially here.

With forty minutes of my shift left, I take myself off to the bathroom and quickly splash my face with water in attempt to cool down my boiling skin. Tonight felt like a complete disaster and I couldn't wait for it to be over.

The bathroom door swings open and Abel stands there. "I thought I'd find you here," he says as he approaches me.

My eyes watch him in the mirror as he stands beside me. "You don't have to hide things from me you know?" Abel says softly.

Eventually I rotate my body to his as he glances up at me. "You're my friend and I care about you, I know when something is wrong."

I rub my hand over my face and completely forget I have glasses sitting on my nose, resulting in bashing myself in the eye. "Fine," I let out a sigh. "My landlord is putting my rent up and I'm not sure how I'm going to be able to afford it."

"Shit Micah, that's rough. I'm sorry," Abel says sympathetically.

My head shake towards him because I knew he couldn't do anything and it wasn't his fault. "I just have a lot of other things to think about, I need to make sure my mum is okay and she's got enough money. But at the same time I need somewhere to live, I need to finish my degree."

Abel's lips frown at me as he thinks for a second. "I can ask Marco if he would be happy to give you a pay rise or something to help these next few weeks?"

"No, no way I can't do that, I would feel so guilty. It's fine, I can figure something out by myself. It's just been on my mind and I've not been completely with it."

The sound of a toilet alerts us and I didn't even realise that there was anyone in here because the restaurant was so empty. The toilet stall swings open and my eyes dart to the door in the reflection.

Instantly averting my gaze when Weston steps out adjusting his cufflinks on his shirt. I purse my lips and look down to the sink, wishing that I hadn't said anything. Feeling beyond mortified that he's heard me say that I'm broke and might not have anywhere to live soon.

Before Weston can even make it over to the sink I move past Abel and straight out the bathroom door, not being able to face him anymore. That was it, this night officially couldn't get worse.

Not that I cared what he thinks but I hated people knowing my business, when I struggled to even tell my friends. Abel is hot on my trail and quickly catches up to me, even with his small legs. Placing myself in front of the till and tapping away like I was busy when really I just wanted to act like I had something to do.

"Do you want to talk about it in private?" Abel asks quietly as he approaches me.

I shake my head firmly and keep my eyes on the till, pressing random numbers. Abel notices and I know that he knew I wasn't doing anything productive at all, just a load of shit to stall time.

"Okay," he sighs and leaves me alone.

Knowing that I had to take the bill over to Weston's table was mentally destroying me, I never wanted to see him again after tonight. My heart couldn't take the humiliation any longer, it physically hurt to be this ashamed of my situation.

Printing the bill from the till and sliding it in a leather pocket book, taking small but steady steps over to his table. Placing it down gently between us, not looking at any of them directly. "The bill," I say politely.

Weston holds his hand up for me to stop, our eyes catch and I wished he couldn't see me right now. "I'll be paying by card, can you get the machine?" He asks.

Nodding my head. "Right away sir," I say before holding my hands behind my back and moving to grab the card reader.

As I return I notice Weston's card on top of the bill book and I quickly take it, placing it inside the machine. "Here you are sir," I say as I hand it back over to him to punch in his pin.

Weston takes it from my hands and I patiently wait, slightly rocking back and forth on my toes. Looking out towards the front door, watching as customers leave slowly.

The sound of the machine printing a receipt brings me back to his attention. "Thank you," Weston smiles gratefully and I nod awkwardly back.

"I'm sorry about the wine again," I repeat, making myself sound like a broken record. "I hope you had a fabulous evening regardless."

His smile spreads further. "Don't worry about it," he shakes his head.

His guests begin to mumble amongst themselves and I dismiss myself from their table. Abel stands by the till and reaches out for the card reader and connects it up to the till. "Ten minutes and you can get the hell out of here," Abel says optimistically.

A breath of air escapes my lungs. "Not soon enough," I grumble.

"Lighten up it—" he pauses. "—holy fucking shit," Abel says suddenly which completely startles me.

"What?!" I exclaim in sudden fear, not liking the element of surprise.

His eyes are glued to the card machine in front of him. Then he slowly turns towards me, his facial expression completely fallen. "He's tipped you a fucking grand Micah,"

"Excuse me?" I say in disbelief as I step closer to him and look over his shoulder.

"That guy has tipped you one thousand pounds,"

My face felt like it had been drained of all colour, too scared to even turn around and face him. Why the fuck would he do that?

I felt angry and I felt violated, he felt sorry for me. That's why he gave me the money because he heard my pathetic sob story and thought, 'wow his life must be fucking shit'.

"Jesus, you're lucky," Abel says before placing the machine back in its holder.

"If you think I'm keeping it you've got another thing coming."
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