Georgia Calloway

Wilson

"Willy, table four has been waiting over two minutes for someone to come and take their drink order," Collin, the manager on shift, said as he walked by me, heading toward the

hostess stand.

I blinked at him, trying to ignore the fact he got my name wrong for the thousandth time while wondering if he noticed my arms filled with plates of food for a different table. When he glanced over his shoulder and frowned at me, I gave him the fakest smile I

could produce. "I'll be right over."

"Good."

Rolling my eyes, I hurried back to table number seven. I hated table number seven. I didn't know if I was just my luck, or maybe the table was cursed, but whoever sat there ended up always being the rudest and crudest and most condescending people on the Earth.

This time around it was a bunch of businesswoman in sleek suits that tried to leer down my shirt every time I leaned over to clear a plate or glass.

"Chicken Cordon Bleu," I announced as I set down one of the plates in front of a bunch of women who are taking group selfies.

"Nice," the one commented and I wasn't sure if she was talking about the chicken breast or my brusque muscles.

Still, I held my tongue. If I remained nice enough, these women would definitely give me a generous tip.

"Do you need anything else before I go?" I asked after I'd handed out all the dishes.

Please say no, I begged internally.

"Another Blue Moon please," Star-Spangled Lady requested.

I flashed her a smile. "Right away."

As I turned around, I caught sight of Collin staring at me and pointing to table four frantically.

"Am l the only one on shift?" I muttered to myself as I turned toward the table.

Noticing there were only two people sitting at it, I relaxed a little bit. At least it would be

an easy one.

"Hi, my name is Wilson, I'll be serving you tonight," I greeted them, offering the two a wide smile.

The two young women both turned toward me at the same time and I immediately felt my confidence drop as I recognized the pair. They came in at least once a week and they were both drop-dead gorgeous. At this point, I had thought I was used to handsome men and beautiful women coming to this restaurant, but the feeling of inferiority never went away. And these two were top tier. Tonight they were both wearing button-ups, rolled at the sleeves to reveal their veiny forearms.

One of them wore a black shirt with a white vest, while the other had a white shirt with a black vest. I didn't know if it was on purpose or not, but either way, they made a great duo.

It made me a little mad. What was up with filthy rich people being so attractive? Wasn't it enough that they had money? They had to steal all the good looks too? It was so unfair. Or maybe I was just too bitter. I had to work on that and stop messing around.

"A strange name, but I guess that's not important," the woman on the right said, her tone smooth and curious.

She had dark, neatly parted hair that was pushed up in the front. It was a little curly at the top and the back of it was styled so that it looked tousled. She studied my face, her dark green eyes squinting a bit.

The other tried to cover a laugh and my eyes shifted to her. She looked like your typical description of Girl Next Door-chestnut-colored hair, brown eyes, a pretty face, and a kind smile.

"Aha, I get that all the time..." I said, feeling like I'd been staring at them for five minutes when in reality it was only five seconds.

She annoyed me by her comment. I'd served her a couple of times before. Is this really the first time she paid attention to my name?

"It's cute though," the Girl Next Door responded, smiling politely at me.

I stared at her teeth, feeling a stab go through my heart. Of course, she had perfect teeth. Perfectly straight, perfectly white. Why would I have ever expected otherwise? These two were on a whole different level than me. I couldn't look even a fraction as flawless as them even if I took five hours getting ready every day.

"Can I start you off with something to drink?" I asked, wondering if I sounded as depressed as I felt. Every second in front of them was like a hard kick to my morale.

"A shot of Lagavulin for me, Wilson," the dark-haired one said, not even bothering to pick up the drink menu.

"Absolutely. And sorry for this, but I need to see your I.D," I responded, offering her a half smile. She didn't look under-aged and I was pretty sure I'd served her alcohol before, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

"What? You don't know who I am?"

"Am I supposed to..."

She looked troubled for a moment before something dawned on her and she nodded. "I guess I wouldn't expect someone like you to know."

Something about the way she said that smirked me. Was she a celebrity? She looked like she could be an actor or maybe a musician. But then again someone like me would definitely know if she was. She was probably the daughter of some rich guy who made airplanes for a living. I didn't particularly care who she was.

"Your I.D.," I repeated.

The lady dug out a black leather wallet from her skirt and stitched along the lower left-hand cover was the word Hermes. She held out her hand. "Here you go."

I took the I.D from her, my eyes sliding over the name on the card before I could stop myself. Georgia Calloway. Really? I thought. Georgia? What kind of name was that? It didn't ring a bell, either, so she probably wasn't famous. Pursing my lips, I scanned over her birth date. 12/25/97

"You're a Christmas baby?" I said, handing the card back to her.

Georgia nodded, tucking her I.D back into her wallet. "Since the day I was born."

I felt my lips twitch into a smile before I could stop myself. "Kinda sucks though, doesn't it? I bet your Christmas and birthday presents are combined as one,"

Without even blinking her response was a nonchalant, "No, never."

I just kind of let out an awkward laugh.

Figures.

"Anything for you?" I asked the other woman.

"I'll have a glass of ice water," she said.

"No, she won't. She'll have a nice shot of whiskey with me," Georgia cut in. "Give him your I.D."

"I'm going to stick with water."

Georgia shook her head, giving her friend a disapproving look. "I'm going through a crisis right now and it is your duty as my best friend to drink the night away with me. Give him your I.D."

I wondered what kind of crisis this probably filthy rich, twenty-five year old could be going through, but figured I was better off not knowing. If I heard anything along the lines of "not being able to afford three Porsches" I'd probably off myself. I hated to believe first impressions, but this lady kind of looked like the type of spoiled person who would consider that a crisis.

"Gia, I wouldn't really call this a crisis Aha! It probably was a three Porsche or deal! What a world I lived in."

"Sol, we're keeping this wonderful man from doing his job. Just give him your I.D. I promise I won't make you take more than a couple of shots. I know you're a lightweight."

The light-haired woman hesitated for a moment before grinning and pulling out her wallet. "You're a pain in my ass."

"Make that two shots of Lagavulin," Georgia said smugly.

After checking her friend's I.D- Solene was her name and it rather suited her-I went over to the bar to give our bartender Trav their order. When I glanced back at their table I saw Georgia eyeing me and I stared directly back at her until she noticed.

At this point usually the other party would look away, embarrassed at being caught, but this lady just held my gaze with a pleased expression on her face. Feeling awkward, I turned away first and saw Star Spangled Lady at table seven, waving me down.

Crap. The Blue Moon.

"Can I grab a bottle of Blue Moon?"

I said to Trav. "I totally forgot I was supposed to get her one."

Trav peeled the cap off on the edge of the bar and handed me the open bottle.

"She's been watching you like a hawk all night. Twenty bucks says she asks for your number."

I pretended to gag as I walked away, reluctantly heading back to table number seven. As I grew closer, I summoned the sweetest smile I could.

"I'm so sorry about the wait for this, Ma'am."