Danielle
Arrived at the restaurant, I change into my uniform consisting of a black skirt, a white blouse and a small red apron and reach my colleagues who are already standing in a circle going through today’s reservations.
Salvatore, a good-looking and tall guy in a waiter’s uniform with a faux hawk smiles mockingly at me while whispering, “You are late, Dani.”
I just stick my tongue out at him and proceed to tie a high ponytail.
Even if I have covered up the bump on my forehead with loads of make-up, I leave a few strands out of my ponytail to be sure it is fully disguised.
“Dani. Do you know Valerio Dantiano?” I nod at Adriano, my boss and chief of service at the restaurant where I’m working.
“We are childhood friends,” I answer, pulling at my apron nervously.
He smiles an
