A new salad girl started last week, appeared on a Friday night, pale, looking a bit plump in her chef's uniform, unremarkable in every way. By Saturday night she had disappeared, gone the way (I supposed) of so many others.
Tonight, the night before Valentines, she shows up with her boyfriend for dinner.
Blonde, fit, she gives me a quizzical look: "You don't recognize me". And I'm for a moment terrified. She saves me: "I started last week...." and I breathe a sigh of relief, her name, memorable only because it was a slight variation on a common name with heavily pretentious overtones.
The boys, the boss, all pass by the table and chat with them. And by the end of the night the Nephew has persuaded them to join us at the local dire pub for drinks.
I meet up with them.
I talk to the boyfriend, polite enough, he manages another infamous Italian restaurant in the city. Light conversation, pleasantries, they pay and leave.
No sooner than they have left the table then the nephew begins: 'The boyfriend, he's a nice guy....' And I nod my acknowledgement. He continues, louder:
"...but i want to fuck the hell out of his girlfriend..."
I laugh and shake my head, looking down, looking up I spot the boyfriend perhaps 10 feet away, he's waiting for his girlfriend to finish up in the washroom. I'm not sure if he heard, but he's not catching my eye. I'm guilty by acquaintance in the worst of possible ways.
I tell the nephew, at first he's concerned, when they've left he asks me if I think they've heard, doesn't wait for an answer....
"...I want to fuck her so bad, but not to worry, I have a plan. I'm not very smart with work, but I'm pretty smart with this..."