Best Served Fake

ten // the dumbest plan

"What the actual, and I cannot stress this enough, fuck."

I was at work the following night, dressed in the shirt and tie mandatory for the upper-class restaurant, my tray balanced on my hip. It wasn't particularly busy tonight; there was only ten tables in the whole restaurant, and only two of them were occupied. The meals were expensive enough that one customer alone easily covered the staff wages for the night, and it meant that the job was usually pretty cruisy.

The venue was beautiful; hanging plants, ornate gilding, gorgeous art pieces and clientele. It was inside of a heritage building, old and vintage in an elegant way; the kind of place you can imagine as a ballroom.

There were only a few guys sitting along at the bar, ordering drinks. The youngest of them leaned forward, his black hair curling over his forehead, listening as I regaled the story of my weekend, while Madeleine poured him a water. "Like, seriously," he repeated, eyes wide. "What the fuck?"

Madeleine, my favourite co-worker, pushed his drink over the counter. "Thank you for that insightful contribution."

Cole Knight just grinned, and sipped on the end of his straw. "It just seemed that the occasion called for numerous what the fucks. All of the what the fucks. Because, like, what the fuck, right?"

I shrugged at Madeleine. "What the fuck."

Madeleine patted my shoulder. "Honey, I'm sorry. That's really fucking shit."

Madeleine Beaumont was a year older than me, stunning and far too cool for me to ever interact with under normal circumstances. She was all French elegance and hippie coolness; with long, shampoo-commercial hair and designer clothes, coupled with a mouth like sailor, a million tickets to indie bands and an invite to every party in town. Her father owned the restaurant, and paid her handsomely to waitress the wealthy patrons of the venue.

She had been in the year above me at school, and was known by everyone. Somehow, after her father had hired me last year to waitress with Madi, we'd become friends.

Sydney hated her.

I smiled weakly, thankful that it wasn't busy, and I could just sit and talk to Madeleine. Decompress. Cope. "It is a bit shit."

"To be fair," Cole added. "They were always a bit shit. Both of them. I never said anything to you, because, like, it's a bit of a social faux pas to call both your best friend and your boyfriend assholes. But also, they were mostly assholes. Like, 95% of the time. Minimum."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks for holding your tongue. I'm surprised you managed."

Cole didn't seem to hear the sarcasm. "Oh, no problem. Heaps of people thought they sucked, so I just told other people about my opinion."

I laughed. Cole Knight used to go to school with me. He'd dropped out last month, with no warning or preamble. No one had seen him since. He dropped in at the bar occasionally, looking a little worse for wear, and never buying anything, despite his parent's enormous fortune. His clothes were crumpled, and his hair looked as if it hadn't seen a comb in about a month. Plus, he was always faintly sunburnt, as if he'd been spending all of his time outdoors.

Every time I asked, he just smiled his usual cheeky, cavalier grin, and told me not to stress.

I didn't press the issue. We'd never been best friends, but it was impossible not to like Cole Knight.

"I didn't realise everyone hated them," I said. "Honestly, I thought everyone loved Sydney. She certainly seemed to think so."

"She's hot," said Cole, as if this explained everything. "And she's funny and charming, I suppose. But mostly just like, mega hot. Not as hot as you guys, or, like, me, of course. But still steadily, solidly hot. Doesn't take away from the fact that she's a raging bitch."