Darling (Darling #1)

1

Today was rush hour. It went as it always did, crazy and fast. Basically, crazy fast. Good thing I have my trusty friend to help me through the evening. 

"Jas! Table 11 is ready for you!" Candace said while speaking another list of food orders to the chefs. 

Great, I had to swim through the crowd of customers and waiters to get the food. It was already getting rowdy and the last thing I need was to bump into someone. I quickly grab the tray of plates from the counter and walk them to table 11 with a smile.

After placing the salmon croquettes, vegetable medley, and medium rare steak in front of the customers, I took a breath. The night's not over yet.

"Here you are and please let me know if I can get anything else for you."

"Thanks." Each customer said then dove into their plates. 

With a nod, I left their table and walked towards the back shouting out my next orders. 

"Thank you! I need table 5 and 4."

"Got it."

It was always like this. Since the restaurant, Chandlers, opened up last month in downtown Chicago, people have been swarming in like bees to honey. I couldn't catch a break even if I wanted to. 

Don't get me wrong, I loved it. The thrill of moving around and serving people delicious, high class food four eight hours and the very nice tips I received didn't hurt either. Reservations were backed up in months for people to eat at this place and it was never a dull day. Even in the mornings, brunch and breakfast were full to capacity. 

I always lived in Chicago and after I graduated college with a major in Economics, the economy didn't give me grace in finding a job. So, as soon as an opening for waiters and waitresses at Chandlers were available, I didn't hesitate to apply. I had several experiences with hosting and being a waiter from the fast food chains to the grill and bars to fancy, shmancy restaurants. 

It was a breeze and a headache. 

Moving quickly, I grabbed an empty dish bucket, went to a deserted table I served and grabbed the tips, check, and the dirty dishes, loading them in my bucket. Once it was full, I walked into the kitchen to give the dishwashers, dodging a couple of waiters with food on their trays.

That was a close one.

"I need mashed potatoes for table 4!" Candace yelled.

She was on it with the orders. The restaurant wouldn't last long if they didn't have Candace on their team. She used to be the caller in five four-star restaurants. Her ease and grace with handling pressure was astounding. 

Gordon Ramsay would be proud. 

Quickly walking back to table 11, I asked them if they needed anything else including refills.

"Yes," The man said holding his empty glass of red wine. "of the first wine you brought out. It was exquisite."

"Yes sir." I took the glass and went to the bar area that was bustling with people too. I grabbed the Penfolds Grange Hermitage red wine and went back to their table, filling the man's glass half full. 

He was already on his third.

This place oozed elegance and fanciness. The restaurant sat at the top floor of the John Hancock Center building. It had floor to ceiling windows with tables populated on the main floor decorated with cream linen cloths and a fine dining atmosphere. The corners of the restaurant held booths with the same silver cutlery, white plates and bowls with gold swirls accented on them, and a bar with a smooth, mahogany oak surface.