Free The Duet by Jennifer D'Angelo

“Sir, I have to ask you to turn off the cell phone or step outside.”
    “Which table is mine? Yeah, Hal, I’m still here. What?” Deep, guttural belly laugh and some extremely filthy looks from several diners. “Yes, yes, I know. Don’t tell him that. Make sure he knows that if the shipment is even one day late, we’ll see him in court.”
    A very frenzied waitress hurried over to where I was standing and ducked her head toward me. “I’m getting complaints. Can’t you do anything?”
    “I’ll take care of it,” I said.
    “Where’s my table? And how long does it take to pour a scotch for Christ sake!”
    I stepped away from the door, hoping to lead him further away from the dining room. “Sir, as you can see, we are completely full at the moment. But if you would like to…”
    “No!” the little fella shouted. It was unclear whether he was speaking to me or to Hal, or to some other poor unfortunate soul at the other end of the line. “I don’t really care if it’s a holiday weekend. They’re lucky to have a job. I’ll fire every one of them tomorrow if I hear one more complaint about no overtime!” Okay, so he wasn’t shouting at me. But my relief was short-lived as the round, small man with the large ego began pacing across the restaurant, yelling into the phone.
    The floor manager came sprinting over. I was glad to have some backup. But instead of talking to this rude little man himself, he came to me. “You have got to take care of this right now! I am getting threats from some of the regulars and if Mika hears about this, we’re all fired.” He ran off before I could beg for help with the situation.
    I was on my own. This wasn’t going to end well.
    Will wonders never cease; the little fella had finally ended his call and was now staring at me with a mixture of awe and disdain.
    I cleared my throat. “As I was trying to explain to you earlier, sir. We should have a table available in the next ten minutes or so. You are more than welcome to have a seat at the bar while you wait. But I do have to ask that you refrain from cell phone use while inside the restaurant.”
    Two beady eyes, which I now noticed were slightly red-rimmed and sat in a face that was cruel and hard and showed the obvious signs of decades of alcohol abuse, narrowed at me. I patiently waited for the attack.
    “I’ll use my phone wherever I damn well please, young lady.”
    “Well, it is a policy, here at Mika’s that…”
    “Do not interrupt me. Do you have any idea who I am?”
    I shook my head. The real question was, did I care who he was?
    “Your hair is blue.” He said, changing tactics. I think maybe this guy had a bit of an attention deficit problem.
    “You’re short,” I blurted.
    “You’ve been very rude today. I have never been treated this way, and Mika will be sure to hear about this.”
    “Do you know Mika?” I asked. I wasn’t quite as terrified as the little fella expected me to be. In fact, I was on the verge of exploding with laughter. This scene could have been on National Lampoon or something – it was that ridiculous.
    “Mika is my brother.”
    Yay!
    “Are you just going to stand there like a moron, or are you going to actually do your job? How hard can it be to find me a table and get me a drink?”
    With that, he pressed a button on his phone, and began another conversation, in his loud boardroom voice. I glanced over at the bartender. He made a slashing gesture across his neck, and gave me a sympathetic smile.
    I shrugged, then walked to the break room to retrieve my things, leaving the podium unattended and breaking the number one cardinal rule.
    When I walked back through the restaurant, the little fella was at the bar where he alternately guffawed into the phone and barked orders at the bartender. I know I should have just kept walking. It would have been the more adult thing to do. But I felt my legs carry me over to where he was sitting. I leaned my elbow on the bar casually