I folded my arms behind my back and tugged at a loose strand of hair there. My cheeks were hot as I looked at him. He was still, deathly still. His eyes were closed and his mouth was a thin line. I felt myself holding my breath as his brow wrinkled.
"Andy, what the fuck am I doing here?" He growled.
"I know, I know. I'm a fucking idiot."
"You got that right. You know this is a formal warning right? It's your second one. I have to fire you if you fuck up again." He clenched his fists and opened his eyes. "And I know you hate waiting tables at 28, but you're gonna hate yourself even more if I have to fire you because you can't just save the weed for five hours. Next to the fucking rubbish bins Andy? That's not even subtle. I expect more from you." I bit my tongue. He was right, of course. Didn't mean I wanted to hear it.
He stood up, not even looking at me.
"Well?"
"Yeah. That was dumb. I won't do it again." Well. I wouldn't get caught again, which is all Leo really asked of me.
"You're going to get your shit together Andy. Be my number one team member. Brightest smile. Flirtiest. Show up on time. Do a fucking good job. Supervised smoke breaks since you obviously need them." I gritted my teeth.
"Yeah. Got it." He sighed and I felt his hand on my neck as he stood behind me.
"And obviously I can't let you off with a warning."
I couldn't stop my smile but I kept my voice even.
"No, ariki." I said.
He grabbed my hair and the nape of my neck and I grunted as he roughly bent me over his desk. He kicked my legs apart and ran his hands down my torso. He was growling as he undid my apron stings. He moaned as he hooked his fingers in my belt...
We both sighed as his phone rang.
"Sorry." He muttered to me, and his voice changed as he answered the phone. "Leo here." I stayed leaning against his desk. Hopefully it was nothing he couldn't handle later. I heard the tone of his voice change though, becoming serious. Damn. I stood up and retied my apron strings. He stroked my arm.
"I tenei po." He mouthed and kissed my fingers as I went to leave. Tonight then. Fine.
—-
He is genuinely my boss. And I'm genuinely in trouble. And I wish he'd taken me over the desk right then but we could wait. No one knows. Leo doesn't spend too much time down in the restaurant so we don't have to play it cool too often and anyway I'm good at playing it cool. Him... maybe not so much.
We met at a bar about three years ago. I was drinking a boy away and we caught each other's eyes early on. Leo's gorgeous. Tall, Rugby players build, Maori. He has a big sleeve on his arm. He keeps his hair long and he pretends he doesn't dye it, that it naturally goes light at the ends like that... but I'm not stupid.
He was staring at me. Emboldened by my fourth gin and tonic I approached him.
"Dance with me."
"I don't dance." I grinned at him.
"You're right. Drinking alone sounds way better."
"You could join me?" I introduced myself and sat down.
"Joan Didion." I looked at the title he was reading on his phone. "She's one of my favourites." He smiled as he looked me over- my long sandy hair and linen shirt that was half undone.
"You're into hippy Californians, colour me shocked." I laughed.
"You read much Eve Babitz?"
"Yes." He said, putting his phone down. "She's my favourite."
He wouldn't take me home that night. In between going to sit outside with him and smoke and talk about books I was making my way through the bars stock and dancing to whatever awful queer house music they played at this hour.
"I've been cut off." I fell into Leo. "So that means I'm your problem now." He looked at me and stroked my hair.
"I'll call you an Uber."
"Call us one." He shook his head.
"No. You're completely drunk. It's amazing you can speak."
"So?"
"So I believe in consent." He took my phone off me easily and gave it back a second later. "Call me if you remember me."
—-
He was there the next week too. I thought about avoiding him- I had been truly obnoxious- I'm a lot when I drink like that. But Leo is magnetic and I found myself sliding next to him.
"It's my second." I held up my drink. "I can consent until the sixth." He didn't look at me.
"You didn't call." I thought about that.
"I thought you were being nice." I shrugged. "I'm sorry about last week."
"Read anything good this week?"
"Finally read The Luminaries."
"In a week?"
"Fast reader." He grinned at me and started relaxing into our conversation. I couldn't pull him to the dance floor but I did watch myself and I stopped at four drinks before I planted myself permanently at his side.
We talked about books mostly, but also politics and art, and how shit the weather was for Summer. He asked me what I did and I lied and told him I worked in public policy. It's one of the two cliches in Wellington but I can't face the fact that I'm a creative who can't get his shit together to run a business so works hospo.
He told me he was a chef and restaurant manager and new in town for a new job overhauling some wanky place. He told me he really loved photography. I didn't tell him really loved metalwork. I get a bit sick of questions about it. I was interested in him, obviously, you don't spend a whole night where you could be wasted and dancing with 15 beautiful boys just sitting next to someone unless you're interested... but he didn't look like he was leaving anytime soon. I'd chain smoked my way through my cigarettes and the bar was calling.
"I need to go home, or I'll start acting stupid again." Leo took my hand.
"I'll see you next week."
—-
My straight male coworker just told me their favourite book is Catcher in the Rye with no sense of irony, how's your day going?
I texted him on my break
Gen Z for you. I'm meeting my new team tomorrow. I'm nervous.
They'll like you.
Bitter hospo people don't like change.
So what are you gonna change?
Everything. The wine, the food. The uniform eventually. The staff talk too much.
It's a restaurant, cut them some slack, how else are they meant to get through the night?