No Prince Charming

Everything about him spelled trouble. We see his type all the time at the restaurant; cocky young men in pastel-colored polo shirts, wearing their white male privilege as casually as the designer jacket draped over their shoulders. His winter tan spoke of Daddy’s vacation lodge at Aspen, his gold Rolex deliberately oversized and gaudy. I could sense the waitresses tensing as they watched to see where he was seated, knowing to expect lewd remarks and paltry tips if they were the unlucky winner of tonight’s douchebag lottery. He ran a hand through his bleach blonde highlights, flashing an expensive and predatory smile at the hostess. She gestured him towards the bay window, our prime date night seating area. I wondered if he’d slid her a twenty, or whether he’d just namedropped her into submission.

He was messing with his fancy phone when the woman walked in. I paused midway through polishing the glassware, mesmerized by the way her hips swayed in the burgundy sweater dress that hugged her every curve. Her warm, brown hair waved gently around her delicate face, but it was her eyes that had most of my attention – large like an anime princess, almond in both shape and color. She was ethereal, and I winced at the thought of her with that Brock Turner wannabe. Nonetheless, she headed towards him, smiling shyly as if it was the first date. Just my luck to be working the bar tonight, perfectly placed to watch this real-life Beauty and the Beast play out. He finally glanced up as she reached his table, his eyes lingering far too long on her chest.

I lost track of them for a while as the dining room filled up, a typically busy Saturday night service. Practicing my mixology skills, I bounced the lemon off my elbow, juggling glasses and clowning around a little to help fill the staff tip jar. Hayley came over with the drinks order for the table.

“She wanted a glass of red, but he insisted on a bottle of the Bollinger, that overpriced James Bond version we only bought in as a joke.”

“Typical. What kind of a guy takes his date to a world-class vineyard and orders the same showy bottle of bubbly he could get off Amazon? Here, let me take it over to them.” I grabbed the super ornate ice bucket, figuring this guy was big on glitz. I also grabbed a bottle of my favorite red wine.

As I approached the table, Bigshot was jabbering on about his stocks in Netflix, while his date tried to look interested.

“Sir, Madam, the 2009 Bollinger. 007 limited edition.” I deftly popped the cork and caught the foam neatly in a crystal champagne flute. “Would Sir like me to wrap the decanter to take home? It comes free with your purchase.”

His nostrils flared angrily. “Do I look like the sort of customer who wants to take home free stuff? Keep the damn bottle yourself. I just happen to like this vintage.”

I nodded, rolling my eyes at his date from over his shoulder. She giggled, much to his displeasure.

“Just pour the damn bubbly and push-off, would you?”

I poured a second glass of champagne, placing it in front of his date, who held her hand up in protest.

“Oh no, really Chad, I can’t drink champagne. It goes straight to my head, I’ll get a terrible migraine tomorrow.”

“Nonsense Sadie, you just haven’t had decent champagne, that’s all. If it costs less than a grand, it’s dog’s piss.”

I cleared my throat, taking the wine goblet from the lady’s place setting and pouring her a drink from the other bottle.

“If I might make a recommendation, Miss, this Merlot is my particular favorite. It’s Mojave Rain; a fruity 2019 number with undertones of dark chocolate and black cherry.” I held the glass out to her, its ruby contents swirling gently. The Chadster was triggered.

“How dare you! Trying to push your cheap house wine on us! If my date wanted that swill I’d have ordered it for her.” He grabbed the glass, throwing the contents angrily into a nearby vase of peonies.

I walked back to the bar, half expecting the champagne bucket to wallop me on the back of my head. This man was more volatile than I had imagined.

Hayley hurried back to their table, apologizing for my behavior and trying to smooth his ruffled feathers. “May I take your orders? Miss?” She turned to Sadie, ready to write down her appetizers, but Chad grabbed the menu out of her hands.

“I’ll order for both of us. We’ll take the hand-dived scallop and fennel salad, the Wagyu beef, and fries to follow.”

“Um, sir? We don’t actually serve French fries here… maybe you would enjoy the dauphinoise potatoes instead?”

Chad turned an unattractive shade of purple. “I SAID we will have French fries, damnit! This place is meant to be Michelin starred, I’m sure your chef can figure out something as simple as fries.” He slammed his hand down on the table for emphasis.

“I will ask Chef if he can make an exception for you, Sir.” Hayley scurried away from their table, heading for the pass with their ticket.

Her eyes met mine, and we smiled. We both knew how Jon-Pierre, our head chef, responded to such requests.

Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, their order was up at the pass. One plate of scallops presented on our finest china. The other blended beyond recognition and served in a sippy cup our crotchety chef kept for just such an occasion.

“I’d better take them their food, I don’t want him blaming you,” I told Hayley, who was struggling to contain her giggles at the carefully placed sprig of parsley garnishing the top of the mush.

Poor Sadie looked like a deer caught in headlights as I brought over their appetizers. Chad was explaining why the welfare state was the direct cause of crime in America, and how nobody expected to have to work for a living anymore. Pretty rich coming from a guy with a 10k watch he surely hadn’t saved up for.

“Your food, Miss.” I passed her the elegant dish and she smiled at me, a tiny dimple appearing in her cheek that made my stomach quiver. “And yours, Sir.” I placed the bright blue sippy cup in front of him. Explosion in three, two, one…

“What the HELL is this meant to be?” He yelled, spittle flying.

I pretended to be confused.

“Why, this is what you ordered, sir. The hand-dived scallops.”

“It looks like baby food!” He dipped a spoon into the greyish-brown sludge, and I nodded sympathetically.

“Yes sir, it does rather. I’m afraid when you requested french fries with your meal our chef must have assumed you were ordering for a child. I’ll rectify it at once.”

I took his plate and bowed deeply, winking at Sadie who seemed to be stuffing a napkin into her mouth to hide her laughter. Hayley walked towards us with the proper order - we always put in an extra ticket when Chef was feeling feisty.

I was back at the bar making martinis again when Hayley delivered their main courses. Jon-Pierre had outdone himself – while Sadie had a perfectly plated steak with the regular sides, the Chadmeister was treated to the full contempt of the kitchen. A pink melamine plate, the rim decorated in cavorting lambs, each section separated so none of the food was touching. Steak chopped into bite-size pieces, French fries, and a few packets of ketchup of the kind you might find in a fast-food chain. We all fell silent waiting for the reaction.

“I suppose you think this is funny?” The vein in his forehead was pulsing unpleasantly, and I was pretty sure we had pushed him too far at this point. I hurried over to help.

“I thought you told chef this was for an adult customer, Hayley? This is unacceptable” I pretended to chastise her, and she disappeared gratefully back to the bar to watch from safety.

“I want to speak to your manager, NOW!” Sadie reached out a hand to calm him and he slapped it away angrily, spilling her champagne all over her.

“Sir! Please lower your voice. This is a respectable establishment” I rebuked him, and helped pull Sadie’s seat out so she could go to the ladies and clean her dress.

“Do you know who I am? My father owns this miserable place! I’ll have you all fired for this, just you wait and see!” He threw the plate across the room, causing a collective gasp from the other diners. I cleaned up the mess quietly, then poured two fresh glasses of champagne, assuring him we would correct his order.

I went out back to the kitchen, bribing Chef to make the new dish in exchange for an expensive shipment of spot prawns he wanted for his tasting menu. When I returned to the dining room Hayley beckoned me over to the bar, looking distressed.

“What’s up?” I asked, somewhat distracted as Sadie walked by, still patting at her dress with paper towels.

“I think he spiked her drink! I saw him drop something into his glass, then swap them over,” she told me.

“Right, well that’s not happening on my watch!” I assured her, striding over to their table.

Sadie was picking up the glass, raising it towards her lips. I swiped the flute from her hand, putting it on the tray of another server as he walked by.

“What the devil do you think you are doing now?” Chad demanded.

“I’m terribly sorry Miss, but we have reason to believe he tampered with your drink. Would you like us to escort him off the premises?”

“This is preposterous!” He spluttered. “I will destroy this place! You’ll be shut down in a week, you hear me! I’ve never been so insulted in my life! When my father hears about this…”

“Your father who owns this place, Sir?” I inquired calmly. “That’s strange because I’m pretty sure it’s my name on the deeds…”

Sadie got up now, sighing heavily as she pulled something from her handbag. A police badge!

“Whilst I appreciate your intentions, you guys nearly screwed up my arrest here.” She took out a shiny pair of handcuffs, and my thoughts went down a rather inappropriate avenue for a moment.

Chad was raging. His chair went flying as he attempted to land a punch on my chin. Luckily he slipped on a French fry I must have missed in the clean-up, falling with a thud that made the glasses rattle on the nearby tables.

Sadie climbed astride him, securing his wrists as she read him his rights. She was even more magnificent now, her air of authority intoxicating. I offered a hand to help her up, as other officers moved in to take the handcuffed Chad out to their car.

“You do still have the glass, I hope?” She asked.

I nodded. “It’s not the first time we’ve had this sort of thing happen, my staff knows to hold on to the glass for testing.”

“Excellent.” She took out a business card, handing it to me in a professional way that made my heart drop into my stomach. “We’ll need you both to come down to the station tomorrow for a statement. We’ve been after this guy for a while - he’s suspected of three date rapes that we know of, who knows how many others that went unreported.”

“I’m glad to have helped.”

She turned to leave, and I felt like Prince Charming on the steps outside the ballroom, watching his one chance at true love disappear into the distance.

“Wait!” I called out.

“Yes?” She hesitated, looking back over her shoulder.

“How about that glass of Merlot? If you’re off duty now, that is.”

She smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”