Dinner at the Red Pearl

"What happened out there?!" Pierre the restaurant manager yelled, bursting through the swinging doors that separated the guests from the waiters. Or as Tommy, the subject of his inquiry thought it, the Haves from the Have-nots. His jaw clenched as he sponged the plum red out of his button up shirt.

"You should have seen it," his shift mate Dave laughed, "The fox on 32 knocked her glass unto him on her way downstairs!"

"It looks like I've just stepped away from a car crash!" Tommy said, tossing the sponge into the sink with defeat.

"Almost as good as any action film, eh?" Dave crept behind him to whisper, met swiftly by Tommy shoving him away with his forearm.

"What's your problem man? It's a joke, lighten up!" he protested, "I'm the one who has to go mop up".

"Then Dave, may I suggest you get to it?" Pierre said before turning his attention to the room, "Make sure no more guests try to take glasses off their tables, we've been over this, it's how accidents happen!"

Tommy knew he shouldn't have told anyone about the audition he'd screwed up earlier that day. That was a moment of weakness, even for him. He couldn't believe that he'd thought this time would be it. His proverbial 'big break' as an actor at Bristle Film Studio. But once again, he blew it. His best chance to leave this Michelin star prison.

Just two hours to go, he thought. He couldn't wait to be home. His knuckles whitened as he scrubbed once again.

"So your solution is to burn a hole through your shirt? What's the matter with you?" Pierre asked with more concern than annoyance.

Tommy took a deep breath, avoiding eye contact. He was in no mood for a heart to heart. Certainly, not another one. It was bad enough that Pierre had talked him through his breakup. Having yet another meltdown in the kitchen, was a new low he wasn't quite ready for.

Pierre, gathering as much said softly, "There are more shirts in the back".

He cupped his hand on Tommy's shoulder in the way he did when one of the waiters was having a bad night. Like he'd done just weeks before. "Chin up because you need to go back out there and offer 32 a complimentary glass".

Tommy's shoulder's tensed, but before he could explain the debilitating embarrassment of having to do so, Pierre cut him off.

"I don't want to hear it! And if you spill this one, it's coming out of your pay check!"

He took careful steps towards the table looking up briefly only to make sure he was approaching in a straight line.

"Hello again" she said, avoiding his eyes.

"Good evening Madame, as a form of sincerest apologies, The Red Pearl would like to offer you this complimentary glass of wine".

"Madame" she mouthed, somewhat taken aback but mostly amused. "You age me", she quipped. Bringing the rim to the top of her lips, she took in the aroma before taking a sip, "Sansonina?"

"I'm... I'm not sure, but I could get our sommelier, Ruben-"

"I was drinking the Château La Fleur-Pétrus," she smiled up at him, "No need to bother your friend Ruben. I use to be one myself".

"A sommelier?" his lips curled into a smile. "Really?" Looking at the woman sitting in front of him, he would never have guessed.

"Yes, you can call it my party trick". She held up her hands as if admitting his disbelief wasn't lost on her. Playing with the stem of the glass, she seemed suddenly transported in thought. Remembering humble beginnings, Tommy assumed.

"Would it be terribly rude if I ask the kitchen for another glass of the Château?"

"No, not at all. I'll get that for you right away".

He returned with another glass, the right one this time. "And here is your Château".

"I think you mean yours" She looked away, once again avoiding his eyes, "Consider it my apology for earlier. We both know it wasn't your fault".

"That's...very kind of you, but I think you'd agree that I've had enough wine for one night".

"Yes, shame it all seemed to miss your mouth," She laughed, "that was where I was aiming for, I promise".

He found himself laughing too.

"Honestly, thank you, it's just that we aren't allowed to drink while on the floor".

"So, you're going to make me drink these by myself?"

He hesitated, thinking of how best to respond, "Perhaps, your date will enjoy one once they've arrived".

"If they ever do" she whispered. She had come in under a diner reservation, but the kitchen only had about forty minutes till closing.

He felt for her. He could see the disappointment she hid between gracious smiles. If this is how charming she was after being stood up, he imagined how she'd blossom when loved. He wondered what it took to make a woman like her feel loved.

"Well, I can't join you for a drink but I can certainly take part in a toast," He snuck a glance around the room. Without picking up his glass, he slid it across the table within an inch of hers. "To introductions" he whispered.

She stifled a laugh, following his discretion. "Sharon".

"Tom". With a final push of his glass, it clinked against hers softly.

They beamed at each other. Wow, he thought, admiring her dark curls. She had the most beautiful hair. The kind you only see in old movies. Actually, come to think of it, everything about her felt that way. Timeless and in need of being immortalised.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, bringing him to reality.

It was Charlotte, his ex-girlfriend. Calling to ask how the audition had gone, no doubt. She had a knack for doing that. Doing small things to show she cared followed by larger things to show that she didn't. Like gifting him a book by his favourite comedian for his birthday and then breaking up with him two days later. Granted, he should have seen it coming. It was How to Be Alone: If You Want to and Even If You Don't by Lane Moore. To be fair, it helped.

"Something wrong?" Sharon asked.

A text had come through:

Hey, How was the audition? I thought I'd give you-

"Nothing," Tommy said, putting his phone in his pocket, disinterested in reading any further. "Enjoy your evening". He took a laboured bow before making his way back to the kitchen.

Leave it to Charlotte to ruin a good thing.

The next hour of his shift went by slowly, particularly the ten minutes Pierre had lectured him about using his phone on the floor. Through it all he found himself stealing glances at Sharon whenever he had the chance. Just in case she needed anything, of course. He liked to believe that he was just doing his job; scanning the room like he was trained to.

She waved him over, a smile he was growing fond of shining across her face as she did, gesturing that she was ready to pay.

"Hi". He said sheepishly on his approach, check and card reader in hand.

"Hi," she laughed. "I was beginning to think you'd disappeared. You close soon don't you?"

"My apologies, it's been a busy night," he lied. "Did you enjoy your sangria?"

"Yes, it was delicious, I love them-

"Me too!" He said with enthusiasm he immediately regretted.

She pursed her lips together, trying not to giggle. She found him endearing. Like a puppy making its way down tall steps.

"Sam, our bartender, he makes a great sangria" He continued.

"He really does," she said, "sorry I didn't order it from you, I just thought I'd stretch my legs, make some conversation, that sort of thing."

"I hope he didn't bore you too much".

"No, Sam was great. Better than waiting for my so-called date"

He hesitated, searching for the right words.

"Yes, I was stood up, but I'm fine with it." She said, pulling out her bag to pay, "no need to dance around it".

He scoffed, picking up the glasses. "I'd love to meet the man crazy enough to leave you waiting".

There was a gentle silence. Her shoulders seemed to soften, as did her armour of poise. She looked up at him almost as if to say, 'thank you', but she said instead, "Well, if you had, then we might not have had these lovely little moments".

He took her in, feeling even more glued to her presence and less willing to hide it. For once, he knew exactly what to say to her. 'had? these moments don't have to end-

But then he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket.

Uncanny isn't it? he thought. How Charlotte could sense when he was on the verge of happiness. Almost as though she would love to swoop in at the last minute to take credit for it.

"Are you okay?" she laughed. "That's the second time tonight you've had that look on your face-"

"What are you doing after this?" he blurted out.

She stared up at him, clearly contemplating her answer. Contemplating his question. Is he asking me out? she wondered.

Only then had it occurred to Tommy that this could all have been in his head. There wasn't just the possibility of rejection, there was an overwhelming likelihood.

'You're just her waiter'. She's a Have and you're a Have-not.

He continued, clearing his throat, "You know, it's Friday night, so..."

"Right yes," she said conflicted by his clarification, "no, no plans, I'm just going to go home, maybe have another glass of wine before bed".

"Right ok". He said.

Damn it!

It was happening again. He was choking. He finally knew the perfect thing to say and this time he couldn't blame it on Charlotte. He had the script in his head, he knew his lines, but once again, he just couldn't do it.

But then a strange thing happened. She said the words he had been rehearsing in his head. In many ways, this would have been his second audition that day. Except now, adrenaline coursed through him with a sliver of hope that he might get the part.

"For a moment there I thought you were about to ask me on a second date". She smiled shyly into her napkin as she wiped the corners of her mouth.

Sharon, you're damn near perfect.

"Second?" he played along.

"This would be our first, right?"

Yes, it would. I'm happy you think so too, he wanted to say. But instead, a relieved smile grew across his face. All he could do was nod shyly as she stared back at him, equally enamoured by his presence.

"Uhm," He said after a moment, "cash or card?"

"Yes, of course". She laughed, digging for her purse. A laugh Tommy had only just accepted meant that she enjoyed his company.

"Actually, you know what," He jumped in, "It's on me. Free of charge".

Her cheeks flushed, "Really?"

"Yeah, something tells me it was meant to come out of my pay check anyway"

She gathered herself, her voice almost a whisper, "...I'll get the next one."

"Oh, but before I forget", he said handing her a small red card, "The Red Pearl would like to ask that you kindly consider filling out this short survey about the service you received. Please leave your contact details if you are happy for us to contact you for any further details regarding your availability- I mean, service".

She laughed, "I am happy for you to contact me, yes". Her eyes twinkled, "In fact, I hope you do".

Tommy shifted to the back of the kitchen, red card in hand like he held the winning ticket to the lottery. His chances had been just as slim. But then he remembered his missed calls from Charlotte. The constant interruption that loomed over him all night. He sighed, unlocking his phone to read her text:

Hey, how was the audition? I thought I'd give you a heads up. Apparently, a producer from Bristle Film Studio is having dinner at the Red Pearl tonight. A Sharon Crawford. Might be a long shot, but try finding a little moment to talk to her!