Twisted Little Things and Other Stories Page 7

  Lisa watched as another waitress stopped at table eight, replacing the cutlery as she prepared for a new booking. Behind the waitress, table nine stood in the shadows near the corner windows, seemingly unnoticed by all the diners.

  “Oi!” a loud voice shouted from the kitchen, causing Lisa to jump slightly. “Have you died out there or something, Clyde? Get back in here! These profiteroles won't make themselves!”

  “Chef's calling,” Clyde said with a grin, stepping back from the window. “Ignore everything I just told you, yeah? It's no big deal one way or the other. Just leave table nine alone and everything'll be fine and dandy. If you try to seat anyone there, though, Annette'll get well pissed. Trust me, it's more than your job's worth.” He gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder as he turned to walk away. “See you around, maybe. We should grab a drink some time, get to know each other better. I've got millions of stories about this place.”

  Once she was alone again, Lisa remained at the little window, watching the crowded restaurant. She knew the story about table nine – at least the second half, about the ghost – was just a load of superstitious nonsense, but at the same time she couldn't help but feel a faint shiver as she watched waitresses slipping past the empty spot. As crazy as Clyde's claims had been, it was clear that the restaurant's staff gave table nine a very wide berth. Everyone just seemed to pretend that it wasn't there at all.

  Taking a deep breath and telling herself to stay focused, she checked her hair again before heading back out into the noise and bustle of the restaurant. Within seconds, she had three tables calling for her attention, and all thoughts of table nine slipped from her mind.

  Five

  “Not even a tip,” Donna muttered with a sigh as she wandered over to help Lisa clear table eight. “Can you believe that? After everything we put up with, the bitch didn't even leave a tip. She even made a point of telling me to make sure I gave her the right change, like she thought I'd try to short her or something. Some people just do my head in!”

  “I feel sorry for the little girl,” Lisa said, thinking about the fear in Elizabeth's eyes. “She seemed...”

  Her voice trailed off. For a moment, she considered telling Donna about Elizabeth's strange claims, but finally she realized she didn't want to open that particular can of worms. She figured the girl had simply overheard someone mentioning something, and had then let her imagination run riot, and the last thing she wanted was to add any more fire to the flames. Still, she couldn't help glancing toward table nine in the corner. There was clearly no-one there, and no sign of anyone reflected in the window either.

  “I have to get home early tonight, girls,” Annette said suddenly, already slipping into her coat as she hurried to the door. “You can hold the fort, can't you? There should only be one more sitting before closing time.”

  “Oh sure,” Donna replied, watching as Annette headed outside, “don't mind us. It's not like we're not run off our feet already. What the actual...”

  Muttering a few inventive obscenities under her breath, she balanced a couple more plates.

  “Did she just leave us alone?” Lisa asked, genuinely shocked. “There's no way the two of us can serve all these tables without anyone to help us!”

  “Oh, it's only one more sitting,” Donna grumbled, rolling her eyes. “Sure, Annette, go home and put your feet up. Leave the hard work to your understaffed minimum wage underlings, Annette. We won't mind, Annette.” As the door opened and a fresh party of diners entered, she glanced at Lisa. “The next two hours are gonna be fun. Real fun. Trust me, you won't even have time to think!”

  ***

  “Table four's ready!” Clyde yelled. “Table three comin' at you in two minutes!”

  Grabbing the warm plates from the shelf, Lisa turned to take them to table four, only to spot at the last moment that there was chocolate drizzled all over both slices of cheesecake. She froze, running through the order in her mind, before turning and setting the plates back on the shelf.

  “One of these has to be without chocolate!” she called back. “Clyde! I wrote on the tab, one of them has to be without -”

  “Fine!” he hissed, grabbing one of the plates. “Just give me a moment.”

  Sighing, she stepped back and tried to get her thoughts straight. Donna had been absolutely right, the final sitting had been chaotic and busy, and when she checked her watch she saw that they still had ninety minutes to go before closing time. She'd already developed the early warning signs of a major headache, and things weren't helped by the fact that her phone buzzed every half hour with another message from her over-protective mother, fussing about how the first shift was going. All things considered, she was starting to feel a migraine brewing in the back of her head.

  “Just stay calm,” she muttered under her breath, before suddenly feeling once again as if someone was trying to get her attention.

  Turning, she glanced back across the restaurant, but there was no sign of anyone looking her way. She deliberately avoided looking directly at table nine, preferring to focus on the rest of the diners, although after a moment she realized the sensation of being watched was getting stronger and stronger. Still she refused to look at table nine, although slowly she became aware of a figure sitting over there, right in the corner. Swallowing hard, she looked at the window and watched as a bus raced past, and she told herself that any supposed figure was just a figment of her imagination.

  But she could still see it.

  A clear and distinct shape, sitting in the very far corner, at table nine.

  The more she focused on the next table along, the more Lisa was able to make out the shape of a person at table nine. She tried to tell herself that she was imagining the whole thing, but she couldn't deny what she was seeing in the corner of her eye.

  “This is dumb,” she muttered finally under her breath, before realizing that she just had to turn and look directly at the table. There'd be nothing there, she told herself; it'd just be a trick of the light.

  With a hint of fear in her chest, she forced herself to look at table nine.

  To her surprise, she saw a large, red-faced man getting settled at table nine, tucking a napkin into his collar. Not just any large, red-faced man, either. She recognized him from earlier.

  ***

  “Oh relax,” Donna said as Lisa followed her to the terminal. “So I put someone at table nine? So what? Annette's not here, and she'll never find out unless you go spouting off and dobbing me in. Which you won't.”

  “But I thought -”

  “You thought what?” she snapped, sounding more irritated than ever before. “That table nine is haunted so we can't sit anyone there? Seriously? You believed all that crap?” She rolled her eyes as she frantically typed another table's details into the system. “Spooky stories are all well and good during quiet periods, but this isn't the time or the place, Lisa. In case you hadn't noticed, we need all the tips we can get, 'cause minimum wage isn't gonna cover the fucking rent.”

  “But that guy -”

  “I know!” Donna hissed. “He's the guy who damn near ripped you a fresh a-hole at the start of the night when you wouldn't seat him. But do you know what? He came back and I figured, fuck it, let's just give him the table if he wants it so much. And by the way, he was eyeing my cleavage the whole time he talked to me. Trust me, that's the clear sign of a decent tipper in a place like this. So set your moral outrage aside and go take the man's order!”

  Lisa opened her mouth to reply, before hesitating. Despite the creepy incident with Elizabeth earlier, she still didn't want to start buying into some dumb ghost story.

  “And remember,” Donna added, “we pool our tips, so that guy's as good for you as he is for me. Oh, and take some advice from me.” After checking that no-one was watching, she stepped closer and undid the top button of Lisa's shirt. “Show just a hint of cleavage,” she explained, “and he'll be eating from the palm of your hand. Bend over a little more when you're delivering his food, and
definitely bend over when you're at other tables, facing away from him. Get his tip quivering, and he'll leave a nice little load of coins all over the table when he leaves.”

  “I really don't think -”

  “Excellent! Don't think, that's the spirit! Thinking slows you down!”

  With that, she thrust a wine menu into Lisa's hands and then grabbed her shoulders, turning her around before shoving her in the direction of table nine.

  Realizing that she had no choice, Lisa nevertheless quickly re-fastened the button that Donna had untied a moment earlier. She had no intention of leading some old guy on just to get a few extra pounds in her pocket, especially when he'd been so rude earlier. With every step, she wanted to turn and beg Donna to cover the table, but finally – despite the sense of nausea in her belly – she managed to flash a smile as she reached table nine.

  “Good evening, Sir,” she said with all the politeness she could muster, “would you care to take a look at the wine menu?”

  “Well look what the cat dragged over,” the man replied with a broad, self-satisfied grin. “Wouldn't it have been a lot easier if you'd just let me have this table a few hours ago?”

  “I'm sorry, Sir, obviously I -”

  “That's good,” he continued. “Apology accepted. I'm glad to hear that you've realized the error of your ways.”

  Reaching out, he snatched the wine menu, while glancing conspicuously at her chest.

  “The special today,” she continued, determinedly keeping her disgust hidden, “is a half fried lobster, served with a spear of fish and chicken, and a side of seasonal vegetables.”

  She waited, but the man continued to stare at her chest for a moment, before finally he made eye contact.

  “Is that right, honey?” he asked with a leering smile, before licking his lips. “Is that the special tonight? Something that leaves a taste of fish on my lips?”

  “Um...” She paused, hoping that he'd just place his order and let her go. After a moment, however, she realized she could see beads of sweat dribbling down the side of his face. In fact, the more she looked at him, the more she saw that he seemed unhealthily red in the face. “Well, um...”

  “Jeez, it's hot in here, isn't it?” he asked, chuckling as he loosened his collar. “What are you trying to do, sweat us all out of our skins?”

  “I can see about -”

  “Gimme the lobster,” he added, briefly flicking through the wine menu before slapping it down onto the table, “and pair it with a nice bottle of white. Use your judgment.”

  “Of course, and -”

  “You don't wanna join me, do you?”

  She froze, shocked by the question.

  “It's been a while since I had the pleasure of such a pretty dinner companion,” he continued, loosening another button at the top of his shirt. “How about I cover the rest of your wages for the night, and you let me buy you dinner?”

  “I'm sorry,” she replied, taking the menus, “but that really won't be possible.”

  “Ah well,” he muttered, grabbing the napkin and wiping sweat from his brow, “can't blame a guy for trying. I just felt sorry for you, that's all. Maybe I was a little tough on you earlier.”

  “It's fine, Sir,” she replied, just wanting to get away from him. “And will you be having -”

  “Look,” he added, grabbing his phone and showing her the photo he'd taken earlier, which featured her startled face behind the desk at the restaurant's door, “I'll even delete this as a sign of good faith.”

  Lisa bristled as she saw the photo. After a moment, however, she realized she could make out a blurry, out-of-focus figure in the background, sitting in the corner right where table nine should -

  “There!” the guy continued, as the photo vanished. “Deleted, just like I promised!”

  “That's wonderful,” she replied, telling herself that he must have been wrong about the photo. “I'll just... I'll get your wine.”

  “And try to fix the goddamn air-conditioning,” the guy continued, before glancing over at the next table along. “It's boiling in here, isn't it? Am I right, or am I right?”

  The people at the next table simply smiled politely, before turning back to their food.

  “Chop chop!” the guy laughed, clapping his hands together and startling Lisa. “I'm a decent tipper, but only when the service is up to scratch.”

  “I'll see what I can do,” Lisa said with a smile, before turning and making her way back toward the service station. Once again, she felt as if she was being watched, although this time when she turned around she saw that the man at table nine was leering at her and making no attempt to hide the fact that he was staring firmly at her backside. As she reached the terminal and started entering his order, however, Lisa couldn't help but feel a little relieved. The emptiness of table nine had bothered her all evening, so it felt good to know that there was someone sitting there. Someone she could actually see. Someone real.

  Even if he was an ass.

  Feeling a buzzing sensation in her pocket, she slipped her phone out and saw that she'd received another message from her mother.

  She sighed as she read the message, which turned out to be yet another bland check-up to see how she was doing. Not even bothering to respond this time, Lisa switched her phone off and then put it back in her pocket.

  “I'm eighteen, Mum,” she muttered under her breath, as she entered table nine's order into the system. “I'm not a -”

  Suddenly she heard a scream from the far side of the room. Turning, her eyes widened with shock as she saw that the man at table nine had slumped forward, with his sweaty, reddened face resting against the complimentary bread basket.

  Six

  “We are so screwed,” Donna muttered as she continued to pace back and forth across the kitchen. “Damn it, we are so, so fucking unbelievably out-of-our-minds screwed!”

  “At least he hadn't eaten anything yet,” Clyde pointed out as he cleared away the last of the pans from the night's service. “Not so much as a bread-stick. Means they can't blame the food.”

  “It's so horrible,” Lisa whispered, still trembling with shock. “He didn't seem like the nicest guy in the world, but it's still awful to think that he...” She paused, thinking back to the way the man had unbuttoned the top of his shirt and complained about the heat. “Maybe I should have done more. Maybe I could have got him a fan or something. Maybe I could have asked if he needed a doctor, I could have spotted the warning signs...”

  Suddenly they all turned as they heard the door opening. Storming through, Annette stopped for a moment and looked at each of them in turn, her face filled with an expression of fury.

  “Is he...” Lisa stammered, before spotting the paramedics carrying a covered stretcher across the restaurant's hastily-emptied main room.

  “Heart attack?” Clyde asked. “That blows.”

  Looking down at her shaking hands, Lisa realized she must have been the last person to have spoken to the man before he died.

  “What the hell,” Annette said slowly, her voice bristling with barely suppressed rage, “was that man doing sitting at table nine?” She stared at Donna for a moment, before turning to Clyde and then Lisa. “Come on, out with it. One of you must be responsible. Why was he at table nine?”

  Lisa opened her mouth to reply, before realizing that she wasn't quite sure what to say.

  “You,” Annette continued, turning to Donna. “Explain.”

  “We were busy,” Donna replied, sounding a little cowed and uncertain. “Mistakes happen, right? Lisa's new, so -”

  “So Lisa put him at table nine?”

  Donna hesitated. “I take full responsibility. I should have said something or tried to step in.”

  “I didn't put him at table nine!” Lisa replied, as she realized she was being thrown under the bus.

  “You were the last one who spoke to him,” Donna pointed out.

  “Who seated him there?” Annette asked firmly. “Any more bullshit and you
're both fired. I can check the cameras at the front desk if necessary and see who led him over there.”

  Donna sighed. “I just thought that it wouldn't matter if -”

  “You're fired,” Annette snapped.

  “Come on, you can't -”

  “Gather your things,” Annette continued, pointing toward her and then over at the door, “and get out of my restaurant, and don't ever come back. Count yourself very, very lucky that I'm going to give you your last paycheck, because I'm sorely tempted to make you walk out of here with nothing! You stupid little...”

  Her voice trailed off and she let out an exhausted, frustrated sigh.

  “You're being totally unreasonable!” Donna replied, with a hint of tears in her eyes. “There's nothing wrong with table nine! It's just some hokey superstition that you've let build up and build up over the years! That man was built like a brick shit-house, he'd have had a heart attack wherever he'd sat! For God's sake, he was a walking coronary waiting to happen!”

  “You were specifically told to never seat anyone at table nine,” Annette said firmly. “You disobeyed that order, and look what happened! We had to evacuate the entire restaurant during the final sitting of the night, and now people all over town are going to be talking about this! Do you have any idea how hard it'll be for the restaurant to recover? Do you realize how hard I worked to save this place from its reputation?”

  “It's just a coincidence!” Donna muttered, rolling her eyes.

  “Oh, get out,” Annette sneered. “Go on, you dumb little bitch. Out! I should never have given you a chance in the first place.”

  “Who are you calling a bitch?” Donna shouted, before storming over to the door. “I don't need this crumby job anyway! You should watch out, though, 'cause I won't take this lying down!” Stopping at the door, she turned back to Annette with tears in her eyes. “I'll get you for this!” she hissed. “I'll make damn sure you regret firing me! I'll sue you or I'll fucking... I'll just get you, that's all!” She turned to Clyde and then to Lisa. “Good luck working here, you bunch of losers! I hope this psycho bitch doesn't -”