Chasing His Kickass Luna Back

#Chapter 22: The Crude Chef

“Oh, god,” I think to myself when I see the look on Daisy’s face. “What did he do this time?”

“What happened?” I should have gone over there when I saw him talking to her. I knew he was up to

something, sticking his nose in something that he shouldn’t be, but I guess I gave him the benefit of the

doubt when I shouldn’t have.

“He told me to button my shirt up,” she says.

“He told you to… what?” I ask, genuinely confused.

Daisy nods. “He said it was too low. I buttoned it up, but he keeps giving me dirty looks now.”

I didn’t notice it before, but she’s got the collar practically buttoned to her throat. Usually, she wears it

with a few buttons undone, like a lot of my waitresses do. For one, it’s way more comfortable. The

collars are tight, and they’re a little scratchy. I’ve been meaning to replace them for some time now.

And secondly, as shitty as it seems, having a little sex appeal is Waitressing 101. It’s a good way to get

tips, and I’d never look down on my servers for doing what they can to make extra money.

“Did he say anything else?” I ask, trying to keep the anger out of my voice. I don’t want her to think it’s

directed at her.

Daisy pauses. “He… said this is a classy place, and that I shouldn’t show so much cleavage,” she

says, staring down at her lap as she fiddles with the hem of her skirt. “I’m sorry, Abby. I didn’t know.”

“Don’t apologize,” I say.

She sniffles again, and I reach behind me for my box of tissue. I hand it to her, and she gives me a

grateful look.

“I’m sorry for crying,” she says before blowing her nose. “I just don’t want you to think I don’t take my

job seriously. Some of the other waitresses do the same thing. I just have bigger boobs than them.”

“Don’t worry about it, Daisy,” I reassure her. “The way you were wearing your shirt before was fine. You

must be uncomfortable with it buttoned up like that.” From what I remember, she didn’t even have

cleavage on display. The dress shirt just hugs her boobs more than some of the smaller girls.

“Are you sure?” she murmurs, wiping her nose with the tissue.

I nod. “I’m positive. Don’t listen to him; wear your shirt however you want.”

With a small smile, Daisy hesitantly unbuttons two buttons and pauses, clearing waiting for my verdict.

I nod. “That’s fine, Daisy.”

“I know this is a classy place, and I’m not a classy person–”

“You look very classy, Daisy,” I say, cutting her off. It’s not a lie. She has her blonde hair up in a tight

bun, and her uniform fits her great. She’s wearing nice, subtle makeup, and looks clean and proper.

None of my customers have had an issue with her, and I certainly haven’t. Other than being a bit

curvier, and the single tattoo on her wrist, she looks like all my other employees.

“Thanks, Abby.” She wipes off her face and stands up.

I stand up too and follow her to the door. She strides across the kitchen with her head down, avoiding

Karl, who’s wiping off the counter in the corner. He doesn’t look at her as she strides by.

“Karl,” I say, barely containing my anger this time.

He looks at me, his eyebrows going up. Chloe’s standing with Ethan on the other side of the room, and

I can tell by the expression on her face that she’s enjoying this. She really has it out for him.

“My office, now.”

He puts down his rag and crosses the kitchen. I lead the way into my office, and he follows, closing the

door behind me.I whirl on him. “Did you tell Daisy to button up her shirt?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, so? I could see everything. I’m sure your customers noticed it too. It’s not good to

have a waitress wandering around looking like a sl—”

“Enough!” I interrupt him before he can utter the word that I hate the most. “Don’t you dare speak about

my employees like that, or any woman for that matter. And for the record, if I had an issue with how she

wore her uniform, I would have mentioned it to her myself. It’s not your place to bring concerns like that

directly to my employees.”

He crosses his arms. “This is supposed to be a high-class restaurant.”

“And it is, even if some of my employees have bigger boobs than others.” I know he must have struck a

nerve with Daisy. She told me when I hired her that she was worried the others would treat her

differently if they found out what she used to do. I don’t think any of them know, but Karl saying that to

her probably reignited those worries.

“It’s your restaurant,” he says dismissively, shrugging. “If that’s what you want, then fine.”

“Either way, you have to stop treating my employees like this. You’re not in charge here,” I growl. “And

furthermore, it’s gross that you pay so much attention to what women wear. It’s just like when we were

—”

I stop myself before those words can come out. Like when we were together. But it’s the truth; he

always had some issue with what I wore, taking out his outdated views on modesty on me. I won’t

stand for it anymore, but I can’t bring it up here. Not at work.

“Did you have something else to say, Abby?” he asks, folding his arms. “Or can I get back to work?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and let out an exasperated sigh. “Just… Keep your opinions to yourself,

Karl. You don’t run this place. I do.”

“Fine,” he says.

“Fine,” I reply, narrowing my eyes.

Karl stares at me for a moment. His eyes are cold, but I can sense that he’s shifting uncomfortably in

his spot ever so slightly. “Is that all?” he asks.

“Yup. Get back to work.”

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Karl

I hand Jack another plate, my shoulders tense. Behind us, one of the chefs laughs one of the most

grating laughs I think I might have ever heard. I think his name is John, or Jim maybe. He’s one of the

few people left in the kitchen whose name I haven’t committed to memory. I don’t know, and frankly, I

don’t really care. But what I do care about is how infuriating that man is.

Normally, I could ignore it, but I’m already tense tonight, and John isn’t helping. On one hand, my fight

with Abby keeps ringing in my ears. “It’s gross that you pay so much attention to what women wear,”

she had said. Geez. I was just trying to help her, but of course, I’m the one who got chewed out. On top

of that, I’m still a little hungover after indulging a bit too much last night in a rather expensive bottle of

scotch. But I needed it after the day I had.

Abby’s clearly still upset with me, and it puts me on edge. She barely greeted me when I got here today

and only said enough to tell me to work with Jack again. I could tell by the way she said it that she’s

losing her patience with me. I just don't see why I should have to take orders from a dishwasher who is

not only half my age but also probably half my intelligence level.

Behind me, John or Jim or whatever his name is roars out another laugh, causing my shoulders tense

even further. I know I need to calm down. The last thing I need right now is to create more reasons for

Abby to be mad at me, but this guy is really getting on my nerves. If he doesn’t shut up soon, I might

not be able to stop myself from doing something I shouldn’t.

I’ve never liked people with abrasive personalities, and John has to have one of the worst. “Look at this

bitch,” he yells, slapping a piece of meat. “Now that’s what I call firm. Just like your mom’s—”

If it’s possible to commit murder through a glare, then I’ve certainly mastered it. I glance over at Jack to

see what his thoughts are, but he seems to be avoiding my gaze Across the room, Abby gives John a

bemused look, but says nothing.

How can he get away with this shit, when I’m the one who got chewed out just for telling someone to

button up their shirt? A shirt that I, and most of the customers, I reckon, can practically see all the way

down. This is supposed to be an upstanding place, isn’t it?

The waitress in question, Daisy, has been avoiding me all night. Not that I ever spoke much to her

before, but she won’t even look at me now. I know I should apologize. It’s not like I set out to hurt her

feelings, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to. Not tonight, anyway. I’m so annoyed, and hot, and

sweaty, and hungover, that I feel like I could rip someone’s head off.

And if John doesn’t shut up soon, it’s going to be him.

One of the waiters walks back into the kitchen with a tray of dirty plates. He puts them down at my

station. “Hey Freddy,” John yells. The waiter beside me looks up. “How’s that sister of yours? I heard

she’s back in town.” Freddy frowns, but before he can answer, I can’t control myself anymore and I

beat him to it. “Why don’t you just shut the fuck up?”

John stands up straighter. He’s a big, lumbering sort of man. He’s built like a bear, but that doesn’t

mean he could ever beat me in a fight. There’s a reason I’m the Alpha, after all. I’m incredibly hard to

beat in one-on-one combat, and I’ve been itching to let out some steam.

I walk over to him, and John meets me halfway. He puffs out his chest, and I can’t help but grin a little

at the display.

“You got a problem?” John says with a mean glint in his eye.

I scoff. “Clearly.”

“Get the fuck out of my face.”

“Promise to shut your fucking mouth, and I will.”

He throws a punch, and I dodge it. But before I can retaliate, a figure darts in between us. Abby has her

back to me as she crosses her arms and glares up at John.

“Get back to work,” she barks. She shoots me a glare over her shoulder, too, but John doesn’t question

her. Abby whips around and levels me with a hard stare. “Go outside,” she says. “You need to cool off.”