Mother of Alpha - Burgov Series III

6. Diana

"I hate working Saturdays." - I muttered under my nose, ironing the damn robe. Who even came up with this insane idea of waitresses wearing sheets?

"You're one grumpy Cinderella today." - Chelsea chimed in from the couch where she and Sean were watching cartoons.

"I'm not grumpy, I just wished to stay home with you guys."

"And in six months you will. You just need to finish your course and get the license. After that you'd be just another boring 9 to 5 rat like the rest of the world."

"I know. I just don't like missing time with you guys."

Sean turned to me and I saw his mind working hard on something.

"Mommy, if you want, we can come by for dinner."

I set the iron aside and looked at him. He had that lopsided smile he always wore when he was trying to win something and his brown eyes were shining with mischief. My little guy knows exactly how to play out his cards to break the bank.

"Are you offering so that I won't miss you, or because you know you could get a chocolate shake?" - I asked, narrowing my eyes.

His smile widened even though he was fighting it.

"Because I would miss you, of course." - he grinned. When he was smiling like that, he looked exactly like his father. Something in my chest always squeezed me a bit tighter when I noticed that undeniable resemblance. I love him with everything I have in me, but does it make me an awful mother to wish he looked more like me?

As always, I brushed that unsettling feeling to the back of my head and answered with a smile.

"Nice try, Honey. But, guess what, if you'd be good for auntie Chelsea I might find a slice of chocolate cake for you." - I said, and Sean started enthusiastically nodding.

"Is there a chance you will find two?" - my Cousin asked.

"If you'd behave too, I might."

Chels turned to Sean with a cheeky grin and they high five one another. Sometimes I have a feeling that I'm living with two seven-year-olds.

I took the hanger with my work uniform and threw a bag on my shoulder.

"Read him some goodnight story, but nothing that might scare him." - I told Chelsea and she snorted.

"That kid isn't afraid of anything. Is that right, tough guy?" - she told me, and turned to Sean to tickle his sides. They were both doubled over in fits of giggles and I sighed, knowing they were no longer listening. I swear, mosquitos focus better than those two.

"Okay, I'm off to work. Remember that the potential cake will appear after you eat your veggies."

"Yes Mom!" - they shouted collectively.

I shook my head and went for the door. The ride to the Meatology was as always too long and too crowded. Any other normal town would have better or at least more frequent public transportation to the downtown, but not Portland. It's an actual miracle if I get a seat. That's probably why it's almost impossible to get to the restaurant with my robe still in good shape. And this was not my day.

I spent a good five minutes in the back trying to straighten the wrinkled fabric, finally deciding to cover it by draping the material differently, when Sarah entered.

"Oh, you're here!" - she said excitedly - "You have some luck, girl. Some hot guy just came in and he sat in your section. I tell you, he's yummy!"

I smiled at her, knowing perfectly well that, for Sarah, almost every guy with a thick enough wallet is yummy. The girl can't help herself. She still believes that one day some wealthy, handsome man would spot her in the crowd and free her from working here and smelling like sweat and grease by the end of the day. And today I don't have the heart to tell her those kinds of things happen only in bad movies. So I just took my pad and went to my section.

I had two tables with already closed tabs, drinking the remains of their beverages. One table with three men, that most likely came for a proper meal before they go partying, the kind of table I hate the most, because they often feel that by tipping me, they gain the right to inappropriate comments, just because I'm their server. And one booth with just one guy sitting with his back to me.

I ignored the first two tables and went to the party boys first.

"Hello, gentlemen. My name is Diana. I see you already have your food, but do you need anything else?" - I asked with my work smile, the one Chelsea says is absolutely fake, but it at least pays my bills.

"Three more beers and your number on the side." - the one with uneven front teeth and slightly greasy hair said.

Of course. How inventive.

But the most surprising thing was a low dog-like growl that reached my ears, and I whipped around trying to see if one of the guests brought a pet in. It happened once before, and Geoffrey, my manager, was not happy, especially when the little Yorkie left a puddle so big that I had a hard time believing it came out of his small body.

But this time I noticed no dogs. Huh. Maybe one of the guests has some strange ring tone. People can do weird stuff just to come off as cool and special, while in fact they just look sad.

I turned back to the three men, and shot them a wry smile that didn't reach my eyes.

"Three beers coming right up. And my lucky number is two." - I said, turning on my heel to go for their stupid beers with a bit of saliva in them, before they could react.

I ordered their beers at the bar, and winked to Tony, our bartender, giving him a go ahead to use not exactly clean glasses, and went to my last table, with just one customer. That's probably the guy Sarah described as yummy. I don't think even she would be desperate enough to see either of the three sleaze balls as cute.

I put on my usual smile when I reached him. But I remembered those soft eyes in the color of the sky before the rain. That's the guy from last Thursday, the one with the chatty sister-in-law.

"Hell, I'm…"

"Diana. I know." - he said with a small smile. And I had the strangest feeling that I knew this man, although it was impossible. I see dozens of people every day and I'm used to feigning friendliness, but with him I felt like I didn't have to pretend. And that was dangerous. The last time that happened, Sean happened.

"Am, that's right." - I said awkwardly. - "So have you made up your mind?"

"Not quite. What's Chef's specialty for today? My previous steak was excellent." - he said with the same warm smile.

"I thought your sister-in-law ate most of it." - I said before I could stop myself. What the hell is wrong with me?! Being sassy won't help me pay my bills.

But surprisingly, he started chuckling. A low baritone rumbling from the depth of his throat. At the same time manly and musical. Lovely actually.

"Yes, she did, but she had only good things to say about it."

He said it so easily and naturally that I couldn't hold my own smile. This man clearly cares more about his brother's wife than about himself. That's not an everyday occurrence.

"Will she be joining you today?"

"Oh, no. Octavia and Ilia went back home. I stayed for a couple days longer and this time decided to actually taste your food."

And there was the same smile again. The one that could make you trust him. The one that looks suspiciously genuine. The one that could mean one of two things, either he's a perfectly normal guy, who's simply good with people, or he's a sociopath. Knowing my luck, he's the latter.

"Right." - I cleared my throat. - "So today the Chef recommends Scylla's Ribeye with whisky sauce on the side."

"Sounds perfect, I'll take it. And could you be so kind and pack four slices of that chocolate cake you have? Ottie wouldn't stop talking about it too, and if she knew I returned here and didn't bring her any, my life could be in real danger." - he asked, looking as if he wasn't joking at all. And I remember well, from my own pregnancy, how serious I was about my chocolate intake.

A small giggle escaped my lips while I was writing down his order. The guy who's so considerate of his sister-in-law can't be all that bad, right?

"Done. Anything to drink?" - I asked, meeting his eyes once again. It's strange they seems lighter than the last time, but maybe that's just my imagination.

"Just water."

I nodded and spun around, going to the kitchen. After placing the cute guy's order, I took three, already waiting, beers and brought them to the overgrown frat boys' table.

"Here you go, gentlemen." - I said, clenching my jaw, because those three were as far from being gentlemen as they could be. And man, did I want to tell them what I really think, but that wouldn't pay my rent and earn money for my son's new shoes.

I started walking away, hoping to escape another sexist comment, but once again luck wasn't on my side.

"Wait a second. Maybe you could settle our bet." - the bleached blonde asked, and just by his sly smirk I knew I wouldn't like it. So I sighed, hoping this moment would end soon. - "We were wondering if you have something under that rag. My boy, Justin, says you do, but I think you're completely bare underneath it." - the disgusting man-child started wagging his brows, probably thinking he was being sexy, but failing.

"Then I'm sorry, but you're a loser." - I said, feeling slightly better to be able to call him that. - "Mister Justin is right." - and I turned around to dart away from them, wishing I was home and able to scrub myself clean, because even breathing the same air as they do makes me feel dirty.

"I'm afraid I will need proof." - his words stopped me, and once again I heard the dog's growling. Weird.

I turned back to their table with a saccharin smile.

"If you don't trust my words, I can get a manager, he would be able to settle your bet."

The guy's smile fell and he narrowed his eyes at me, knowing his jokes stopped now. Then I gave them a curt nod and went to clean one of the tables that had just gone vacant.

I hate those kinds of situations. Men think they can say absolutely anything and sometimes even touch me, just because I'm tending to them. I'm a waitress, not a freaking Geisha!

Just like that, in the first fifteen minutes of my shift my day was ruined. I went back to the kitchen and took ten long breaths. An absolute must, if I don't want to explode at another jerk who thinks he's funny, while in fact he's just giving a bad review of his mother's parenting methods.

I gathered the nice guy's steak and started walking towards his table, when I noticed him standing above the three frat boys with a dangerous-looking scowl. He said something I couldn't quite catch or read from his lips, and then he went back to his table, leaving three obnoxious men staring intently at their half-empty beer glasses.

I tried to make something out of this, especially because when I was passing their table they wouldn't even glance at me, or utter a word to one another.

I set the man's plate in front of him, still wondering what was going on, but he just smiled with gratitude. Signs of his scowl or any potential disagreement were gone.

"Forgive me, sir, but is everything alright? Were other guests giving you trouble?" - I asked, glancing knowingly at the other occupied table.

"Oh, no. Everything's perfect. I was just asking if they had a saltshaker."

Yeah, I knew that was a lie. First off, he had a saltshaker right in front of him, and secondly, that innocent question wouldn't make the frat boys look like scolded children afraid that their dad can lose his temper.

But instead of confronting him about that, I simply nodded and left him to enjoy his meal.

Soon after, the three men downed their beers and went out, leaving a few bills to cover their tab and give me quite a generous tip. That was unexpected, because I was anticipating at least one more unpleasant encounter and definitely no tip, but I was happy how that turned out.

I started tending to my other tables. Saturday evening can get quite hectic, but I still couldn't stop thinking about the nice guy and what he said to those three dickheads, but whenever I approached him, he offered me no explanation, as if whatever I saw hadn't even happened.

He ate his steak. Asked to compliment the Chef and order a coffee with a slice of raspberry cheesecake, all the time smiling and being perfectly polite. And I couldn't figure him out.

"See I told you he's yummy." - Sara said, stopping next to me by the bar, our usual spot to observe our sections of the restaurant.

"No, it's not like that."

"Yeah, that's why you're eyeing him as if you were ready to be his baby-mama." - she snorted. I shot her a glare and she started giggling even harder. - "Don't worry, no judgment there, I know I would if he sat in my section. Guys like him are meant to be stripped and tied to the bed."

I shook my head, because that's exactly what Sara would say about eighty percent of our male, single guests between the age of twenty-five and forty.

However, even under the suit the nice guy is wearing, one could tell he's taking care of himself.

But no! That's exactly the kind of thoughts I shouldn't have about any man, especially the one I'm serving.

I left Sara to do another round and when the nice guy asked for the check I felt kind of disappointed. I know he was here for at least two hours, but his soft, good-natured smiles and perfectly charming demeanor made every small innuendo from my other tables less unbearable.

I brought him the check and a container of chocolate cake just like he asked, but with a strangely heavy heart.

"Tell your sister-in-law it's even better when you put some whipped cream on top." - I said, not even knowing why I was once again cutting the distance between us. It was so unlike anything I do with my other customers that I didn't have the slightest idea where that friendliness came from. Maybe it was because I was sure he stood up for me. Not that I needed him to, but it was still a nice thing to do. Every girl my age knows that chivalry is long dead on this continent.

"I will." - he said with yet another smile, and his deep, gray eyes were almost sparkling with joy. - "But I'm afraid it would only lead to sending me here for more."

I chuckled and for some reason blushed.

What the heck?! I meet dozens of people and there isn't a day when I'm not asked about my number, relationship status or sometimes even something less civil. But somehow the mere mention that he could be back works way more effectively for me than if he asked me out.

"The things we do for the ones we love, right?" - I said, finding my voice again.

He watched me intently for what felt like eternity.

"Exactly." - he answered in a low voice.

I smiled again and stepped away, mainly because the shift in the atmosphere between us was strangely intense.

From my spot by the bar I saw him putting the money on the table, taking the container and leaving the restaurant, but not before he sent me one last smile.

It was so strange, because he was just one of those guys who was in and out of my life, just another customer, but I couldn't explain the disappointment I was feeling. This perfectly well-mannered, handsome man was undeniably the highlight of this day.

With a sigh, I went to collect his bill and cash, but when I started counting I frowned. He left three hundred dollars for a meal that cost less than one hundred. What the hell?!

I picked up the check to inspect it again. Maybe I put something I shouldn't have in there. And that's when I noticed a written note hidden below the cash.

Use it to buy some pepper spray,

Vanya.

I giggled to myself. He sounds just like Chelsea.

Maybe there are some signs of life on Mars after all.