The Goddess Ch. 01

Chapter 1 Benny “Your shift started fifteen minutes ago, Benny.”

I rolled my sleeves up to my elbows and soaped up my hands and wrists. My shirt was untucked, my belt was nowhere to be found, and my hair was a mess. I made it to work by the skin of my teeth today.

“I apologize, Boss,” I said, shooting her a well-practiced regretful smile that I didn’t mean. “Got stuck in traffic.”

“Do you get stuck in traffic before every shift? Because this is becoming a problem.” Erin put her hands on her hips.

“Nope… sometimes I miss my alarm from all my late nights of partying,” I winked. I didn’t tell her it wasn’t my party, or that I didn’t get home until almost four in the morning. But the tips meant I could buy groceries this week.

She rolled her eyes. “Be here on time, please. You’re one of my best, Benny, but if I don’t start writing you up for being late, other people are going to get lazy and start copying your behavior.”

“Yes Ma’am.” I tied my apron around my hips and headed out to check in with Maxine.

Maxine, our shift lead for the day, shook her head at me in mock disapproval. “Loverboy running late again today?”

“Late nights, Maxine. Gotta keep all my girls satisfied.” I wiggled my eyebrows.

Rolling her eyes, she said, “You should worry about keeping your boss satisfied. You’re on tables one through six today.” She handed me a stack of menus and a spray bottle. “In the meantime, put those talented fingers to work.” She slapped me on the ass with the clipboard as I walked away.

I let Maxine think I was a playboy and a man slut. I was always tired, always horny, and always hungry, and I guess my character fit her assumption. It was a running joke that I hooked up with a new girl every night. I didn’t correct her. I’d rather have the disdain of being a fuckboy than the pity I’d get if I told her the truth.

Thursdays were always slow, but today was oddly stressful. Erin was nervous because apparently someone from corporate was coming by today, but she didn’t know who or when. A group of single moms in the corner had ordered peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for their kids, and most of the jelly was now on the wall. A group of college girls sat in the corner, enjoying the free bread and butter but only ordering sodas and laughing obnoxiously. And Maxine and I had a bet going on about how many times the older lady in the corner would complain about her food, and I was pretty sure I was going to win, since she was up to four.

“Benny, I swear, if she sends this back one more time,” Erin whispered to me. “What did she say this time?”

“She said the breading on the shrimp was too spicy.”

“But last time she said it was too bland.”

“Well,” I shrugged. “Guess she wants something in between.” I set the plate down.

Erin glared at it, picking up one of the untouched breaded shrimps. She bit into it and rolled her eyes. “It’s perfect.”

“Obviously. Sebastian made it.”

Erin put in another order for the shrimp and went to supervise the creation. I grabbed a spray bottle and a rag to clean the jelly off the walls near table three.

Shrimp Lady finally left, and Maxine and I couldn’t help but laugh about the situation while I cleared the table. “What’s her problem, anyway?” Maxine asked.

“She only gets five shrimp. If she complains multiple times, she gets seven or eight. People do it all the time, especially if they’re hungry but don’t want to pay for a side.”

“You think that’s it?”

“I dunno. Probably. She looked obnoxious. I can’t stand stuck-up people like that. Just eat your food and if you don’t like it, don’t order it. C’mon. At least she left a good tip,” I said, tucking the bills into my pocket.

“I know you gave her the wrong dipping sauces on purpose.”

“There was nothing I could give that woman to satisfy her. The least I could do was give her the spicy ketchup instead of the sriracha aioli.”

“Excuse me?” A voice I didn’t recognize cut in over our discussion. Maxine and I both turned to see the new guest standing at the front of the restaurant.

It only took three seconds for her to turn my world upside down.

The first second was a visual overload as I took her in. She was a few inches shorter than me, perhaps five foot seven or eight. She wore a black blouse with a few buttons undone, and I could see a hint of cleavage that made my mouth water. An expensive necklace of red, orange, and white gemstones rested on her breastbone, like something a queen would wear. Full round breasts and a thin waist melted into curvy hips. She wore a form-fitting skirt made of black shiny leather that stopped right above her knee, a slit up the back dangerously close to exposing her. A piece of black lace was sewn into the slit, as if to imply modesty even though it didn’t truly do anything. Almost like she was saying, I could be decent, but I don’t want to be. Her bare legs were smooth and looked like satin, and she wore a pair of elegant black strappy heels. She had full, shiny, raven-black hair, curled and styled to frame her stunning Grecian facial features. Ivory skin, high cheekbones, a straight nose, dark red lips. But her most stunning feature was her shocking, enchanting eyes.

They were golden. A light brown, like honey, or topaz. An earthy amber that made her look like a supernatural entity or a creature from the underworld.

In the next second, I experienced a strange emotional compulsion that led me to believe that this woman was important. Not just a businesswoman from the corporate office, or a rich senator’s wife, or someone of a high rank. No, it was something almost spiritual. I felt like it was a privilege or a once-in-a-lifetime honor to gaze upon her, let alone serve her a meal. Whatever her name or title, it should be capitalized, and she deserved respect just for existing. I knew this instinctively, as if she knew it too, and in knowing it herself, she communicated it to me simply by the way she stood.

The third moment was filled with condescension and guilt as she lifted a perfectly arched eyebrow and met my gaze, as if she were saying, are you going to stand around all day and stare at me, or do you have the decency to seat me and serve me a meal? But it was also filled with a strange pride and honor, because out of everyone in the room she could have made direct eye contact with, she chose me.

What a weird thought. She’s just a woman, Benny. Come on.

I elbowed Maxine, who jumped before she greeted her. Maxine gestured to an empty table on the other side of the room, but the woman pointed to the dirty table I was cleaning. “I’d like to sit there. I’ll wait for him to finish cleaning it for me.”

Maxine didn’t know what else to say, so she nodded and wrung her hands, fidgeting as I finished cleaning the table.

I worked too quickly and carelessly, knocking over a water glass in the process. My blood pressure rose and my nerves went haywire as I struggled to contain the mess. I heard a quiet sigh behind me.

My thoughts immediately went defensive. She has no reason to be frustrated, she’s the one who requested a dirty table. But when I glanced at her, she didn’t look annoyed or upset.

Maxine wordlessly threw me an extra rag from behind the hostess stand, sensing my discomfort. I soaked up the water and collected the rest of the dishes, determined not to make a complete fool of myself in front of her.

Chill out, Benny. Just breathe, do your job, and take her order. You’re good at this. The rich older ladies love you.

Returning from the kitchen with a spray bottle and clean rag, I sprayed down the table and wiped it up, and then cleaned both chairs too, not knowing which one she’d prefer to sit in. Maybe a little extra attention in the preparation of her table would provide me a splash of favor to make up for the inconvenience of the spilled water. Once it was ready, I stepped back and lifted a hand to the table.

She was staring at me with an odd expression. Something between interest and… humor? And although she was shorter than me, she had this energy, this way of looking at me, like she was looking down at me. I could usually ignore that feeling, at least until I was off work and could put it out of my mind. Letting myself be affected by snobbish people during my shift was always a bad idea, because it made me careless.

I swallowed and stood firm under her expression.

She walked slowly, as if she were in no hurry at all, as if she hadn’t stood there for what felt like ten minutes while I prepared the table. Pausing by the chair, she looked at me with a challenge in her stunning golden eyes. I swallowed my pride and pulled the chair out for her, seating her as if she were a queen.

Maybe this was the woman from the corporate office, and she was testing me to see just how far I was willing to go for the sake of customer service.

Well, there weren’t that many things I was good at, but getting a smile out of someone was certainly near the top of the list.

I was about to tell her the specials when she removed her gaze from mine and took the menu. “I’d like a glass of white wine. Pinot Grigio, or a Sauvignon Blanc. Something light and crisp. I’ll decide on my entrée when you return.” With that, she ignored me.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Miss,” she said, her tone correcting, but not insulting. Almost as if she preferred I use the term, but would not demand it.

“Yes miss.”

I kept an eye on the drink order while I checked my other tables. When I passed Maxine again, she raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips as she crossed her eyes slightly, an expression I was quite used to seeing on her. It was our would you take a look at this entitled snob expression. I smirked and rolled my eyes, not really returning the sentiment.

She didn’t feel like a snob. She felt like a challenge. Impress me, she seemed to say. I bet you can.

When I finally brought her the glass of wine, she beat me to speaking again, placing an order for a Caesar salad and a side of the breaded shrimp. I pursed my lips slightly at the order, praying we weren’t about to have a repeat of the earlier fiasco.