A Shot in the Dark

Haunted Past

My boss Sarah whispered to me from the window leading into the kitchen, raw panic and desperation flooding her voice, "Gabriella, do me a favor and ensure that Lindsey doesn't screw this up tonight." Her dark brows slithered together, telling me that she was genuinely terrified. "I just received news that the food critic and reporters are coming here at the last minute, and I don't want anything to go wrong. Not like last time." Her voice became whispered with the last sentence, but there was no mistaking her words.

A spike of fear was instilled in me a moment before I forced it to evaporate. "Nothing bad will happen, I swear." I grabbed her hand over the window sill, noticing how it was slightly trembling. "I'll make it my mission to take care of our new recruit and help her out, just as I've done in the past." Although the words came out calm and controlled and Sarah's face relaxed, I still could not help the worry that crept up my spine.

"Thank you," she said, returning her attention to the kitchen staff. I turned to leave but was stopped by a tug on my wrist. Sarah's fingers prevented me from taking another step. "I know she's in the best hands. Just remember that you have a job to do also. Don't be so preoccupied that you forget, please. I trust you."

Her words choked me up, although I never let them reach my eyes. Only able to get out a stern nod before grabbing a plate stacked with creamy pasta, I let her words soak in. She trusted me, and I knew that before, but now her saying it made it feel more genuine.

My palms became sweaty as I weaved in between tables of customers chatting across from one another. The moon from the skylight gazed down in streams from above, blending with the artificial to create an aurora of color on each seated guest. Switching hands, I used my apron to wipe off the moisture while catching a conversation between two gentlemen dressed in regal suits as was suitable for this restaurant. One wore black with a cream white dress shirt and crisp black tie that seemed tightened excessively, while the other wore a navy blue jacket with a perfectly stainless shirt and dotted tie.

Recognizing the table for the pasta in my hands, I set it down in front of the grateful lady, refilled her water, then backtracked to the two men.

"Hello, gentlemen, my name is Gabriella and I will be your server for this evening. What can I get started for you?" My hands worked with my mouth as I set down their menus and brought out my notepad. The click of the pen and grace over the paper was always satisfying.

Seeing the men up close was a stark contrast to when they were farther away. The man dressed in black greeted me with nothing more than a light scoff under his breath. Decades of wrinkles ran around his eyes, and the absence of a smile plagued his features. He rummaged through the folds of the menu, settling on a bottle of our finest whiskey and a plate of our popular dish, Fettuccine Alfredo. Without another glance, he shoved the menu into my arms and continued typing on his phone as though nothing had transpired.

I retained a sigh and plastered on my best attempt at a smile before turning my attention to the other man. He wore a genuinely kind smile and met my eyes with deep blue ones that marvelously matched the suit that dressed him. He was significantly younger than the other man, perhaps a couple of years older than I was as well, with slight stubble on his otherwise chiseled face and paired brown hair.

"Dad," he said, addressing the other man, "you could be nicer. She's just trying to do her job." His father barely acknowledged him other than a sideways glance. "Sorry," the younger man said to me, eyes searching the menu to discover what delicious Italian food was in store. Tearing his eyes away, he spoke clearly, a touch of humor in his deep-set voice. "What would you recommend? I've only been here to 'La Dolce Vita' a handful of times."

Pulling recommendations was a hassle, mainly because Italian was not my ideal dish. However, one choice rose above the others, which I would select frequently.

My hands relaxed a touch, balancing the menu into the crook of my arm. Noticing a blonde curl in my vision that had fallen out of my ponytail, I pushed it behind my ear before speaking. "The Pizza Margherita isn't the most popular dish, but it's my go-to in this restaurant, and the cooks love to prepare it for guests as well—says it brings them back to good old Italy or something like that. All I know is that their voices go up an octave every time it's ordered."

The small laugh that rose out of his mouth dissipated the worry in my spine. "Well," he continued, "then I'll have that with a glass of water, please, Gabriella. I'm Felix, by the way." A pleasant feeling filled me with him remembering my name—something that nearly never happened.

"Nice to meet you. I'll have those out for you gentlemen shortly." I felt a blush creep to my cheeks as I turned towards the kitchen to get their meals started.

"Oh, and please tell the cooks," Felix said before I got too far away from their table, "Grazie per il tuo duro lavoro."

The female cooks crowded around each other to look out the window at the strange gentleman. "What a handsome face," I heard one of them say. "And what mannerisms! A true gentleman if ever I saw one," another gushed. Their broken English was hard to follow when their voices increased in volume, but they never failed to bring a smile to my face.

Once I had pinned the order receipt to the counter, I tuned out the ogling older women to reach for my phone. A new message caught my breath in my throat, and my body went cold. My eyes took a hurried glance around before settling in and opening the message from an old companion.

It read: "There's another gig tonight. The jewelry store closes early and we have an inside guy. Are you in or not?" My finger clicked the power button as fast as humanly possible when I saw Sarah coming to me from my peripheral vision.

"Are you alright?" she asked, placing a hand over my forehead as if to check for a fever. "You've gone completely pale. Something wrong? Please tell me Lindsey didn't unintentionally insult a customer again. I swear, I told myself that I should let her go, but you convinced me to keep her on, and now she's causing all of these problems—"

"Woah, calm down there." I grabbed her shoulders, shaking her out of her pointless ranting. "I'm fine and Lindsey is doing wonderful. In fact, I was just going to check on how she's getting along. Everything is fine." I forced the words to be calm and reassuring, but fear still clawed up my throat.

Author's note:

Setting up the story from the very beginning is usually a pretty challenging thing for an author to accomplish, but it somehow came as a breeze for me. Although there were moments when the story would get away from me, I kept my determination to finish this part.

Funny enough, Felix was never really part of the outline I created. He just snuck up on me, I liked how he made Gabriella feel, so I decided to leave him after some debate. I made him into my "perfect man" of sorts haha.