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I fucking hate him.
"Coming right up. Anything else, guys?"
I don't want to be predictable. And I'm sure he has several IDs in his pocket in case we get checked, so whatever.
The rest of the table orders wine, beer, and cocktails. Which is just fine so long as they tip me well.
"What's the special tonight, Nadia?" Jason asks me.
"Eggplant bruschetta as a starter and orecchiette with zucchini flowers, pork sausage, and smoked cheese as an entrée."
"Jesus!" Cain yells. "That sound downright illicit. Is that legal? I'll have all of that, pretty please."
Scribbling his order, I smile despite myself. The asshole can be charming when he wants to be.
"How can you work here and look like you do?" Judith asks me. "I'd get fat in no time."
I laugh. "I suppose I'm used to it. My dad's the chef. When he cooks at home, pasta's just a small course—we eat a healthier starter and main." That's a lot more honesty than I should give those guys. They use truth as ammunition. I clear my throat. "I recommend the spaghetti frutti di mare," I say, because shellfish is the most expensive option.
My favorite is the good old carbonara, but they don't need to know that.
I jot down all their orders, glad to see each of them goes for a starter and an entrée.
Jason's last. "I'll have the spaghetti carbonara, per favore, Nadia." He slips into Italian with ease, like it's a comfortable shoe.
My eyes narrow on him. "Sei sicurò? Il pesce alla griglia è squisito."
"Ho gusti semplici, cara."
His accent's better than mine, though I hear a few errors. I sigh, huff, and turn on my heels to give the orders to the kitchen.
He's not in the Italian class, that I know of. What was that about?
I ask the bartender to prepare their drink order and run them two platters of complimentary antipasti. I'm tense as heck when I bring them to the table, not sure what to expect from them. Some bullying or mockery, no doubt.
Judith smiles brightly at me. "It looks amazing, Nadia, thanks!"
"For real. Italian food is just so Americanized in most restaurants," Melina says. "I haven't seen such a good platter since Rome last year."
I manage a smile, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. "Thanks. Every ingredient comes directly from Italy, or is locally sourced." I give them the usual pitch, pointing to the various cured meats on their platters and letting them know where they're from.
Rowan rushes to try everything as I name them, and comments with appreciative moans and thumbs-up. I finally chuckle. "Don't choke on that, stupid."
He grins with his mouth full. Gross."It'll be worth dying for."
Andrea, the bartender, catches my eye to let me know he's done with the drinks.
I go to collect them, serve them, and check on my other tables, always conscious of the group. They act like normal young people out on Friday night, barely sparing me a look. Part of me relaxes. The other part of me wonders what the fuck is going on. Jason tells me he wants me to be part of his life, then he leaves me alone for a week, and now he's coming to my dad's restaurant and…leaving me alone? If that guy's still playing a game, screwing with my head this time, I don't like it one bit, and it makes me want to screw with his right back.
We approach the end of my shift as they finish their starters. Normally, I notify all my tables that I'll be going, but this time, I slip out without a word, letting Jenny deal with the fallout. I'm sure Jason had a plan. He wanted to corner me, or say something to get under my skin. I don't let him.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Our townhouse is close to the restaurant. I walk back in less than ten minutes.
Jason would be surprised if he saw our house. It's nice. Dad bought it the year Mom got pregnant. Nineteen years ago, Brooklyn was less trendy, and much cheaper. Nowadays, it would cost a pretty penny. There's nothing luxurious inside; it's cozy and comfortable, with a beige leather sofa and warm wood accents.
Mom always calls the house Dad's house. I see why. It's nothing like her. Her room and mine are the only touches of color. Hers, royal blue, with tons of velvet and silk. My walls are painted grayish purple, with silvery wallpaper on one wall. The princess bed I chose at twelve is ridiculous, but also humongous and ultra comfortable.
