Loving You Differently

Five

Aria Adkins

"I'm about to quit."

I glance up from counting my tips and raise a brow at Sidney in amusement.

"No you're not."

She flops down on the other side of the booth I'm sitting in, sighing loudly. "I know I'm not. But sometimes I wish I could."

I fold the small wad of dollar bills in my hand and grimace. "We just consecutively served thirty customers and I have a grand total of seven bucks in my hand. I wish I could quit too."

Sidney snorts and leans her head against the back of the booth, thumping her fist against the table.

"Its bullshit. The next person to give me a 75 cent tip is getting my foot up their ass."

"I won't stop you," I tell her, standing up and stretching my back.

RJ's is barren and quiet, which isn't unusual since the lunch rush ended about thirty minutes ago. Speaking of the lunch rush--it was a fucking mess. One of the cooks called out so orders were backed up more than usual. A new waitress with absolutely zero experience was just hired and approximately four dishes were broken.

And the customers were extra rude and stingy today because of it.

I walk around the long counter and grab a newspaper and a Sharpie from underneath it, deciding to take advantage of the silence and finish my job search.

"I'm telling you," Sidney speaks up from the booth, "stripping isn't as bad as it sounds. My cousin Lana makes good money."

I furrow my brows and look over at her. "Isn't her club the one that was surrounded by the feds last month? Some drug-bust operation gone wrong?"

Sidney pauses and purses her lips in contemplation. "Wait, was it?" she asks. I shake my head as she pulls her phone from her apron and begins tapping away, presumably checking in with Lana for confirmation.

I sigh as I look back down at the newspaper spread open in front of me. Finding a job that doesn't require a degree of some kind is hard. So far I've got "part-time nanny" and a cashier position at a frozen yogurt place circled in red. Not ideal, but better than nothing.

The distinct sound of the bell above the front door of RJ's chimes throughout the restaurant. I spin around on the tall barstool and almost fall over when I glance over and see whose standing in the doorway.

The manager of Vice.

Also known as the way-too attractive guy that turned me down when I trespassed into his club and demanded a job. That manager.

He's not alone. There's an equally attractive guy standing beside him. They share similar features; both insanely tall, tousled dark hair, and dark stubble lining their jaws. The only difference is that the guy I've never seen before doesn't have both arms covered in ink.

Hot manager guy and I make eye-contact, and I'm quiet as I watch him and his friend take a seat at a booth in the far corner. I glance over at Sidney and for some reason my cheeks flush crimson when she mouths holy shit at me.