Page 16 of Tempted By the Princess

We both startled as Carrie’s phone buzzed with a text. She read the message with a frown, then tapped out a response before setting it back down with a deep sigh.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“We’re catering an office party tonight and my partner isn’t feeling well. We had two of the wait staff call out sick, so it looks like some virus is going around the team. I wasn’t supposed to work tonight, but I’ll need to go in and help.”

“I’ll come too.”

“For what?” she asked.

“I can help with serving. You said you’re down two people. It’s the least I can do.”

“Have you ever waited tables or served food at an event before?”

“No, but I’m a fast learner.”

Carrie laughed. “Spoken like someone with no experience. Besides, aren’t you afraid someone will recognize you?”

“It’s unlikely. No one pays attention to the serving staff, and if I’m dressed like everyone else, I’ll blend in.”

“True. But it’s hard work, Genny.”

“I don’t mind hard work.”

“Okay,” she said skeptically. “If you want to try to help, we could definitely use an extra pair of hands.”

“I won’t let you down, I promise.”

Eight hours later I was hoping I could fulfill that promise. Carrie dug up a catering uniform my size from a stash she kept at her house. The black pants were a smidge too long, but Carrie rolled them in and secured the fabric to itself with duct tape. It turned out better than I would have thought. Once I put the pants on, I couldn’t tell that the hems were taped.

The white shirt fit perfectly, although I didn’t have the right bra for it, so I borrowed a camisole from Lizzie’s dresser to wear beneath it. Then I separated my blonde hair into pigtails, one on each side of my face, securing them with rubber bands. I outlined my eyes with dark waterproof eyeliner and added a few layers of mascara, making my eyes look huge. It was enough to make me look like just another server instead of a pampered princess.

Carrie came out of her bedroom wearing the same outfit as me, her eyes taking in my pigtails and makeup, but all she said was, “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

The rest of the team had delivered the food to the office where the party was, so we just needed to help with serving and clean-up. As we drove to the event, Carrie reviewed the protocols.

“We’re only serving finger foods tonight which is infinitely easier than a full dinner,” she explained. “You’ll just grab whatever tray is waiting for you on the counter. We rotate the types of food, so people get a nice variety. Make sure you know what everything is before you take it out because people will ask.”

“Okay.”

“They’ll also want to know about allergens, like if the hors d’oeuvres have gluten or peanuts or whatever. If you don’t know, don’t guess, come back and ask us.”

“Got it.”

“Be sure to offer napkins, and when your tray is empty, do a walk around the room to pick up discarded plates and napkins. But don’t pick up any napkins with your bare hands, use another napkin.”

“Why?” I asked curiously.

“You don’t want to touch someone’s snot if they used it as a Kleenex, or their saliva if they spit it out.”

“Oh gosh, I never even thought about that,” I said. “That’s super gross.”

“Hazard of the business.”

She pulled into an alley behind the building, parking next to a dumpster.

“Are you ready to work?”