For Rent or For Real

Chapter 5-1

Chapter 5

“Ready for your first big night on the floor on your own?” Roger Franklin asked Ted. Ted was looking in the mirror in the servers’ dressing room, trying to tie his black tie just the way the restaurant required—loose with his white shirt open at the collar.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Ted replied, turning to face the man who had been training him the past few weeks to wait tables at the classy bistro. “How do I look?”

“Perfect,” Roger said, stepping forward and loosening the tie slightly. “A handsome dude like you will pull some serious coin out of this crowd when it comes around to tips.”

“I hope so. My f*****g old man wouldn’t fill out my loan application so I didn’t qualify for tuition aid. I’m going to owe a bundle and I know he won’t pay for it.”

“Well, with those bedroom eyes, your sexy smile, and killer body, you’ll do just fine. Do you have questions about tonight’s menu?”

Chez Raphaël, like so many fine dining establishments, had a limited menu which changed on a daily basis, requiring the servers to always be up to date. Ted had studied that evening’s offerings as well as the wine list. “I think I have it all straight. I’ve never heard of most of this stuff though, let alone pronounced it. I guess I should have paid more attention in my high school French class.”

Roger laughed. “I’ll be working the section next to your tables, so if you get in trouble just whistle. I’ll be right there. Okay? Here we go!” Roger slapped Ted on the back and the two headed for the door.

Once on the floor, the butterflies in Ted’s belly took flight and the confidence he’d felt in the dressing room flew off with them. He looked around the swanky dining room. I shoulda taken the job at McDonald’s! he thought, looking at the well-dressed patrons sitting at the tables before him. That’s more my speed.

“Theodore,” the maître d’ called. The haughty old man insisted all his servers use their given names—nicknames were taboo.

“Yes, sir,” Ted replied, startling slightly.

“Table ten in section five was just seated with a party of four. Wesley will finish up the tables he has been waiting on in that section but you’ll take any new seatings.”

“Yes, sir,” Ted said again, making sure he had his order book and pen. He filled four glasses with water, placed them on a tray and headed for table ten where four middle-aged women sat.

“Welcome to Chez Raphaël,” Ted said with his broadest smile. “My name is Theodore and I will be taking care of you ladies tonight.”

“I just bet you could,” said one of the women, raising an eyebrow and winking at her fellow diners.

Ted gave a shy sideways nod and, still smiling, asked, “May I get you something from the bar?”

“Are you sure you’re old enough?” another of the women asked, giggling.

Without hesitation, and with his sexiest smile, Ted said, “Yes, ma’am, would you like to see my driver’s license? Although that’s what I should be asking you.”

They all tittered, exchanging appreciative glances at his implied compliment. Ted took their orders and headed for the bar.

He indeed wasn’t old enough to be serving liquor. He’d lied on his application for employment. He knew in order to make the money he needed he’d have to command bigger tips than he could working as a bus boy, the only job at the restaurant other than kitchen help that could be had at eighteen. As a bus boy you got your hourly rate and a small percentage of the tips from the servers whose tables you bussed. The restaurant hadn’t questioned him. Ted had hoped they wouldn’t. He had passed for twenty-one easily on other occasions. He was glad, however, the ladies at table ten hadn’t taken him up on his offer to show them his driver’s license.

Another table in his section was seated with an older couple celebrating their wedding anniversary. Yet another had a family with young children, and Ted’s first evening as a server was underway.

* * * *

“Wow, that’s a hunk of cash!” Ted’s roommate Charlie Wills exclaimed, coming in later that night and finding Ted sitting on his bed in their dorm room, counting his tip money. I wish I could make that much at my lousy work-study job in the dorm laundry.

Ted sighed. “Yeah it is. But it isn’t going to be enough. Not unless I increase my hours and work more shifts. Then when will I study? I have two evening classes as it is.”

Charlie sat on the bed and picked up a pile of bills. “You could work days on those nights.”

Ted nodded. But the lunch shifts would be shorter, the menu had cheaper items, and the bar tab would be smaller. That would mean less in tips. Although there would be more ladies. Ted thought of how the four women he’d shyly flirted with earlier had responded to a handsome young man playing up to them by giving him an inordinately large gratuity.

“Nah, even with women to chat up, I need more cash. This won’t come near making me what I need.”

“Maybe you could offer them a little extra service…for a fee?” Charlie suggested, tossing the money back on the bed with a lascivious laugh.

“Oh yeah, right,” Ted said, also laughing. “That’s just what I could do. Offer to f**k them in the cloakroom.”