Page 1 of Deck the Skulls

Chapter 1

Rissa

“Hello? Miss? Over here!” As if the shouting wasn’t enough, there were fingers snapping in the air. Rissa turned to see the three guys in business attire at table four looking annoyed. One of them was holding his hand up, still snapping for her attention.

She wanted to grab those snapping fingers and bend them the wrong way until she heard a crack. Instead, she plastered on a smile and changed course. Three strides brought her to the table. “What can I do for you?”

“You can start by being quicker with the refills,” the guy with the snapping fingers said. “I’m out, and Ted and Doug are almost out. Are you new here or something?”

She managed to keep her smile in place, but only barely. “Sorry about that. What were you all drinking?”

“You don’t know?” the guy asked with a smirk. “Do I have to do your job for you?”

“I believe you got these drinks at the bar,” she pointed out. “You didn’t order them from me.”

“I guess you better go talk to the bartender then,” he said, making a waving motion. “And make mine a double this time.”

Why did people insist on being assholes? It wasn’t a question she needed an answer to, though. What she really wanted was the legal right to beat people up for being twats.

“I’ll check in with Barb and Jeff to find out what you ordered. Do you want to order food while I’m here?” she asked.

To her relief, the three men ordered copious amounts of food. That, along with the alcohol, would drive their bill to one of the highest of the night so far. The tip from them would mean she should be able to make rent. Or at least pay the past due and not get evicted. Not getting evicted was always nice, especially around the holidays. Putting up a Christmas tree in an ancient four-door sedan didn’t really work.

She wished she didn’t know that firsthand.

After taking down their order, she checked in with table six, then headed to the back to put everything in the system. A trip to the bar got her their drinks, which she dropped off on her way to take table three more bread.

Even though it was the day after Thanksgiving and all these people should be home eating leftovers, everyone had decided to spend Friday in the Gaslamp Quarter of downtown San Diego. It almost felt like half of everyone was in the Stuffed Pig. She’d been thrilled to get the job, even if it meant dealing with pricks like the ones at table four. Thankfully, most customers were there to have some fun and were minimally annoying.

For some unknown reason, this was the busiest Friday she’d worked since getting hired eight months ago. Customers started arriving at four and hadn’t let up since. It was wall-to-wall people and now that it was drawing towards eleven at night, they were getting into groups that had already had a few drinks in their system. Things were starting to get rowdy as more obnoxious customers arrived.

Because Rissa’s manager knew he could, he’d given her a split schedule. She’d opened that morning, had to take off for the middle of the day, and now she was set to close. She’d gone home and taken a three-hour nap, but that wasn’t enough to combat the lack of sleep that was currently shortening her temper to only a few millimeters long.

“I hope you don’t expect a tip,” snapping fingers said when she dropped off their drinks. “If you're this bad with everyone, you’re probably used to not getting tipped.”

Make that a single millimeter and this guy was singeing both ends.

His friends laughed as she gave up on smiling and simply walked away. Something grabbed the back of her half apron and jerked, forcing her to stumble a step before catching her balance.

“I wasn’t done talking to you,” snapping fingers said. “You shouldn’t walk away like that. It’s bad manners. You should ask me how you can make it up to me or how you can make me happy.”

Rissa pulled out of his grip and twirled around, breathing heavily. “Don’t touch me.”

“Calm the fuck down! I grabbed your apron, not you,” the guy retorted.

The other men cackled, and one asked her if it was “that time of the month.”

Backing up a few steps, she focused on not giving into any violent impulses. Once she was out of reach, she turned and walked away. Stomping to the back, she slammed her serving tray down on the counter.

Ned gave her a sympathetic look. “I’ll trade table twelve for that one,” he offered.

She nodded her head, not trusting herself to speak. Ned went off to check in with his other tables when she saw her manager talking to the men at table four. Steve had on his smarmy smileas he nodded his head vigorously at whatever the guys were saying to him. Then he looked up and caught her eye. He pointed to his tiny office, a clear indication he wanted to meet her there.

Great.

The moment he stepped in behind her, he started yelling.

“You can’t treat customers that way. We aren’t the local dive bar where the guys expect to be harassed. You have to be polite to everyone, Rissa!”