#Chapter 22: The Crude Chef
“Oh, go d,” I think to myself when I see the look on Daisy’s face. “What did he do this time?”
“What happened?” I should have gone over there when I saw him talking to her. I knew he was up to
something, sticking his nose in something that he shouldn’t be, but I guess I gave him the benefit of the novelbin
doubt when I shouldn’t have.
“He told me to button my shirt up,” she says.
“He told you to… what?” I ask, genuinely confused.
Daisy nods. “He said it was too low. I buttoned it up, but he keeps giving me dirty looks now.”
I didn’t notice it before, but she’s got the collar practically buttoned to her throat. Usually, she wears it
with a few buttons undone, like a lot of my waitresses do. For one, it’s way more comfortable. The
collars are tight, and they’re a little scratchy. I’ve been meaning to replace them for some time now.
And secondly, as s hit ty as it seems, having a little sex appeal is Waitressing 101. It’s a good way to get
tips, and I’d never look down on my servers for doing what they can to make extra money.
“Did he say anything else?” I ask, trying to keep the anger out of my voice. I don’t want her to think it’s
directed at her.
Daisy pauses. “He… said this is a classy place, and that I shouldn’t show so much cleavage,” she
says, staring down at her lap as she fiddles with the hem of her skirt. “I’m sorry, Abby. I didn’t know.”
“Don’t apologize,” I say.
She sniffles again, and I reach behind me for my box of tissue. I hand it to her, and she gives me a
grateful look.
“I’m sorry for crying,” she says before blowing her nose. “I just don’t want you to think I don’t take my
job seriously. Some of the other waitresses do the same thing. I just have bigger boobs than them.”
“Don’t worry about it, Daisy,” I reassure her. “The way you were wearing your shirt before was fine. You
must be uncomfortable with it buttoned up like that.” From what I remember, she didn’t even have
cleavage on display. The dress shirt just hugs her boobs more than some of the smaller girls.
“Are you sure?” she murmurs, wiping her nose with the tissue.
I nod. “I’m positive. Don’t listen to him; wear your shirt however you want.”
With a small smile, Daisy hesitantly unbuttons two buttons and pauses, clearing waiting for my verdict.
I nod. “That’s fine, Daisy.”
“I know this is a classy place, and I’m not a classy person–”
“You look very classy, Daisy,” I say, cutting her off. It’s not a lie. She has her blonde hair up in a tight
She’s wearing nice, subtle makeup, and
with her, and I certainly
the single tattoo on her wrist, she looks
Abby.” She wipes off
the door. She strides across the kitchen with her head down,
who’s wiping off the counter in the corner. He doesn’t
I say, barely containing my anger
me, his eyebrows going up. Chloe’s standing with Ethan on the other side
on her face that she’s enjoying this. She really
“My office, now.”
down his rag and crosses the kitchen. I lead the way into my office, and he follows,
you tell Daisy to button up
I could see everything. I’m sure your customers noticed it too. It’s not good
a waitress wandering around looking like a
utter the word that I hate the
any woman for that matter. And for the record, if I had an issue with how
mentioned it to her myself. It’s
directly to my employees.”
“This is
have bigger boobs than
me when I hired her that she was worried the others
I
probably reignited
restaurant,” he says dismissively, shrugging. “If that’s what
you have to stop treating my employees like
it’s gross that you pay so much attention to what women wear. It’s just like when
—”
myself before those words can come out. Like when we were together. But it’s the truth;
taking out his outdated views on modesty
can’t
have something else to say, Abby?” he asks, folding his arms. “Or can I get
let out an exasperated
run this place. I
“Fine,” he says.
I reply, narrowing
at me for a moment. His eyes are cold, but I can sense that
so slightly. “Is that all?” he
Get back to
______
Karl
tense. Behind us, one of the
I might have ever heard. I think his name is John, or Jim
name I haven’t committed to memory. I don’t know, and frankly,
But what I do care about is how infuriating that man
but I’m already tense tonight, and John isn’t helping. On one hand, my
keeps ringing in my ears. “It’s gross that
but of course, I’m the one who
indulging a bit too much last night in a
But I needed it after
me on edge. She barely greeted me when I
again. I could tell by the way
with me. I just don’t see why I should
but
name is roars out
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