Page 12 of Rent: Paid in Full

Sienna better watch herself.

The last thing I need is her hot blondeness deciding it has a crush on Ryan. I don’t know his orientation yet. IthinkI’ve felt him looking a couple of times when I get changed, but it definitely seems like he’s a little less angry with Sienna than he is with the rest of us, and I can’t say I like that.

I shoot her a warning look. She licks a little salt off the rim of her margarita like a kitten licking cream from a bowl and pretends not to notice.

Fuck.

I keep an eye on Ryan as he waits on his other tables, barely able to keep up with the conversation as I watch him. I manage a few well-timed hmms and mmms, but that’s about it.

Ryan is a terrible waiter. That much is clear. Forgetful and harassed in the extreme, all but ready to commit an act of violence against one of his patrons at any given moment.

Still, I have a good time. I learn something new about Ryan: it isn’t just me. The tension around his shoulders is perpetual, and so is his bad mood. I take comfort in that. Plus, the food at Pepe’s is excellent, despite the fact I get chicken enchiladas instead of the beef fajitas I ordered. The flavors are amazing. I’ll definitely be back. And soon.

There are only a couple of tables still occupied when we leave, and it’s pouring outside, so I call an Uber for the others and wait in my car for Ryan to finish his shift.

5

Ryan

Thank fuck that’s over.It was a shift straight from hell, and not just because Miller took it upon himself to grace Pepe’s with his presence. My truck broke down on the way to work. I had to walk the last three blocks in the rain, all the while calculating how much a tow truck will cost me in addition to the repairs my piece-of-shit truck already needs.

It’s throwing good money after bad, but what choice do I have? The bus service is shit in this part of town, and I have to be able to get to and from work.

I’m tired and more than ready for bed. It was pretty busy for a weeknight tonight, and we were understaffed on top of the Miller and dickhead friends situation. Not that the Miller and his dickhead friends situation wasn’t the worst part of my night. It was. All I’m saying is it wasn’t the only bad thing. Waiting on them was hell, but the low point came right at the end. The bill had been paid, I’d seen them passing the book around, and each had put their cash or cards in. I was about to collect it when I saw Miller swoop in and take it. He peeked inside and then reachedunder the table surreptitiously and shoved an extra stack of bills in.

In life, there’s horror and humiliation aplenty. If you’re the kind of guy I am, there’s more than your fair share of both, but standing there smiling, thanking them for coming as the book burned a hole in my hands was a special kind of low.

A forty-five percent tip for service that could be called mediocre at best. Fuck me, it stings.

The shame of it feels heavy and unpleasant. It’s eye-wateringly hard to swallow, not least because of how much I need the money and how much I hate that he knows that about me.

I’m more than humiliated. I’m angry too.

I call out my goodbyes and wave to Kia and Paul once I’ve stocked the napkin trays and refilled the condiments my tables used.

I’m so tired I’m tempted to use Miller’s ridiculous tip to call a ride, but my pride won’t allow it. I’m giving this shit back to him the second I see him, and I’m going to give him a piece of my mind free of charge. The more I think about it, the angrier I get. Rage heats and swells in my hands and my chest. I stretch my fingers and shake them out, trying my best to stop them from curling into the fists they want to form.

I asked him not to come. You heard me. I was incredibly clear about it. I literally said, “Don’t,” when he said he was thinking about it. I said it with force.

How the hell do you misunderstand that?

I pull my hood as far over my head as it will go, trying to shield myself from the worst of the weather, and start walking. I’m less than ten feet from the door when a great big fuck-off SUV flashes its lights at me. I look around, blinded, and can’t see anyone else on the street, so I’m momentarily unsure what to do.

Maybe they need help?

Maybe they’ve confused me for someone else?

Maybe they’re kidnappers planning to grab me and sell me as a sex slave or worse?

I speed up my pace just in case.

The SUV pulls up beside me and the window rolls down. The streetlight cuts stark lines into a beautiful face, lighting the bottom half while his eyes remain in the dark. Full lips are parted. The cleft of a chin dips in. An Adam’s apple juts out of an otherwise gracefully arched neck.

“What are you doing?” asks an indignant Miller fucking MacAvoy. “I’ve been waiting for like twenty minutes.”

“Why are you waiting? I didn’t ask you to.”

“‘Cause your car’s broken down, dumbass, and it’s bucketing down. Get in.”