Page 4 of Stardusted
“What’s going on?” snapped the angry woman at my own table.
I’d almost forgotten she was there. I blinked then scrambled to cling to professionalism when all I really wanted to do was throw my tray and scream. Somehow, I summoned a soothing tone. “I-I’m not sure. I’ll find my manager. Just…please stay here and, um, keep calm. I’ll be right back.”
Before she could fire off more demands, I turned on my heel and hurried toward the kitchen. This night just kept getting better.
As I moved, I searched for tonight’s manager, Sandy, but of course she was nowhere in sight. Typical. She had a sixth sense for disappearing when things got hectic. She had to have noticed the blackout, though. Hard to miss the entire restaurant going dark.
Grumbling, I veered toward the office behind the bar. She was probably holed up in there, scrolling her dating profile. Again.
If the outage dragged on, we’d have to comp food, hand out free drinks—meaning we’d need Sandy to emerge and pretend to do her job for at least five whole minutes. That, or finally appoint an assistant manager like every single one of us had asked her to do. Control freak, party of one.
The lights blazed back to life, sudden and blinding. I flinched as they stabbed my already tender skull. The jarring screech of monkey calls and music returning mid-chorus followed, painfully loud after the shocked silence. Guests groaned, hands went up to shield eyes, and I paused mid-step, trying not to stagger.
Sandy chose that moment to materialize, brushing past me with a customer-service smile plastered on her face, eyes wild. From the far side of the room came the unmistakable crash of breaking glass. I twisted just in time to see Emily’s expression crumple in horror as the rest of her tray hit the floor. Serving ware, fried fish, and lemonade flew everywhere.
As if on cue, Jackie bellowed, “Good-for-nothing freeloader!” from somewhere in the kitchen. A pair of old ladies gasped like they’d just witnessed murder. My headache intensified.
I needed a minute.
Spinning, I stalked toward the back of the house, passing tables murmuring about “solar flares” like they were the harbingers of doom. I caught a glimpse of Kelly heading in my direction, her smile frighteningly triumphant.
Nope.Not today, Satan.
I took a hard right into the prep closet, slammed the door behind me, and sucked in a breath.
Sanctuary.
The closet was tiny but blessedly quiet, packed with cases of sealed bar bottles, stacks of silverware, and boxes of condiments. More importantly, it was out of view. No guests. No Kelly. Just peace.
Or what passed for it in restaurant life.
Short of chain-smoking in the alley or crying in the bathroom, hiding in here was the best it got. I’d wrap a few silverware bundles, give myself two minutes to pull it together, and hope the pain ricocheting around my skull would dull into something tolerable.
At least the door muffled Sandy’s screeching and the din of annoyed customers. The lamp in the corner cast a pale yellow glow over the space. I sagged back against the wall and let myself breathe. Taking this double had seemed like a good idea at the time. One morning class and a full night of tips—a done deal. If I hadn’t needed the money so badly…
Muttering an oath, I dropped my tray onto the folding chair and glanced at the stack of neatly rolled napkins. Someone else had clearly shared my plan. I had, if I was lucky, a few minutes to myself before I had to resurface and pretend I hadn’t been contemplating that aforementioned cry in the women’s bathroom.
It was just a power flicker. Not the end of the world.
Definitely not aliens.
Sighing, I pulled my phone from my apron pocket. No missed calls. No texts. Not that I was expecting any. Amelia was still visiting her dad, but she’d be heading back soon. I debated texting her a vent-rant about the night but decided against it. Instead, I glanced at my signal.
Full bars. Still no sign of an intergalactic takeover. Take that, Kelly.
I snorted and tucked my phone away again before grabbing a fresh napkin and set of silverware.
But before I could start folding, the door behind me creaked open.
My shoulders tightened. She’d found mealready?So much for hiding.
“Well,” I said with a sniff, “your alien friends sure didn’t hang around long.” Sneering, I started to turn. “If they were going to shut off our lights, they at least could’ve stuck around long enough to close the?—”
Only it wasn’t Kelly.
My eyes landed first on a broad, well-shaped chest. Wide shoulders attached to a tall, lean frame.
It wasn’t Kelly at all.
