2. Trying to Be Optimistic

Two

Trying to Be Optimistic

Elena

Gazing at my reflection, I gather my long blond hair and tie it into a bun before I apply tinted moisturizer, mascara, and strawberry lip balm. I expel a breath. This will have to do. I'm wearing a black three-quarter skirt and a white blouse.

Knock, knock. "Come on, I'm busting to go to the toilet." Jeremy's voice filters through the bathroom door. If these boys are going to live here, sharing one upstairs bathroom with seven people isn't going to work.

I push the door open, and he darts in and starts peeing in the toilet before I can even close the door behind me. I shudder. Gross!

"Tell Cameron I'll see him tonight," he calls out.

Back in my bedroom, I slip my handbag over my shoulder before I leave. I lock my door and go downstairs.

It's quiet compared to last night. When I woke up at two a.m., I could hear their voices and music. Empty pizza boxes and beer bottles and glasses from last night are scattered across the coffee table. I hope this isn't a daily occurrence, but I suspect it might be.

In the kitchen I pour water into a glass and take my anxiety medication out of my bag. I swallow my daily dose: two tablets. I've been on anxiety medication since high school, when I put so much pressure on myself to do well that my hands would shake.

"I've got this," I say, trying to convince myself that I'm confident before I head out the front door.

I walk to my faded yellow Mini Cooper. It's older than me, but despite a few bangs and scratches from my driving, it gets the job done. My seat creaks as I get in and settle while I open the GPS app on my phone. "Don't let me down," I mumble. My GPS says it's a seven-minute drive, but I'm leaving early, in plenty of time before my shift starts at eleven.

My heart beats faster the closer I get to the restaurant. The town's main road runs along the beach. The water is calm, and it lazily laps the shore. I see small shops to my left and palm trees scattered along the sidewalk.

The restaurant is just up ahead. As I approach, a car leaves an angled parking spot nearby. I put on my blinker, and after several attempts and a car horn blasting, I reverse park. When I get out of the car, I see that I parked a little too close to the line for comfort, but I ignore it and make my way to the sidewalk, trying to control my breathing with slow breaths.

The restaurant appears modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows and a deck that wraps around the outside. A black sign with gold lettering proudly displays the name of the restaurant and my new place of employment: Crown Village Seafood Restaurant. It's fine dining, and I hope I'm not out of my depth. I'm not the most graceful person. I think the manager at my last restaurant gave me a good reference to get rid of me. I accidentally broke several plates and glasses. I always apologized, but I'm lucky I kept my job as long as I did.

A Closed sign hangs on the door, but when I knock lightly, a young man appears. He opens the door, and I say, "Hello, I'm Elena. I'm supposed to be starting today." I try to sound confident, though I don't feel it.

The man's eyes roam my body, making me shift uncomfortably. His smile widens when his eyes reach mine. "Hey, sorry," he says and opens the door further. "Come on in. The name's Cameron."

I carefully enter. My stomach rolls like crazy.

"You're more beautiful in person," he quips, and I pause. "I had to check out your Instagram profile," he says casually, and then he laughs when I don't answer. "My father makes me ensure I'm hiring the right people; he can't hire someone whose behavior will reflect poorly on the business. You know... our family restaurant's reputation is important."

As I exhale, my shoulders sag an inch. "Of course," I say and smile. He was doing his due diligence for his family's business.

"Come take a seat," Cameron says, glancing at the closest two-seater table.

He sits down opposite me, and I can't help but notice that he's handsome, with brown eyes and hair and a broad smile.

"Thank you for giving me this opportunity. I appreciate it." More than he will know—it allowed me to get out of my hometown.

His eyes light up. "It's my pleasure. About the restaurant, we serve seafood, obviously. It's fine dining, so the customers expect professional service. Your role at the beginning is to bring out food to the designated tables. Simple. I need you to smile and be professional and approachable." His eyes trail me again. "What you're wearing is perfect."

I clasp my hands together and sit up straight, trying not to show how nervous I am.

He takes a menu from the table and passes it to me. "We serve primarily high-quality, locally sourced and sustainable seafood and produce, and our prices match our ethos." He glances down at his watch. "The chefs and waitresses will arrive soon to prepare for lunch. I'll have one girl show you the ropes, and you can shadow her today. If you have any questions, just let me know."

His phone rings and he pulls it from his pocket. "Hey," he answers and puts a finger up at me, signaling he'll be a moment. I nod and give him a small smile before he walks toward the rear of the restaurant and enters a door that I assume leads to the kitchen.

As I wait for him to return, I survey the restaurant. Tables are separated evenly around and ringed with elegant chairs with timber legs and plush fabric seats. The real beauty is the full view of the ocean.

Members of staff come in through the front door; the men smile at me, and a bald one gives me a friendly wave. They head to the back of the restaurant. Women dressed similarly to me walk in, but they pay no attention to me. Not that I'm anyone important, but I was hoping to make a few friends while I'm here.

Cameron's been gone for a while, so I pull my phone out of my bag. When the women start setting up the tables, I stand up to help just as Cameron reappears and the front door opens.

"Mel, good to see you've turned up."

A girl around my age with a short pixie cut walks in. She gives Cameron a big smile, walks to him, and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

I'm surprised at the affection. I hope Cameron doesn't expect that from me.

"Miss me, did you?" she purrs.

"Always," he says playfully, and then he turns toward me. "Elena is new. She's shadowing you today." He turns back to Mel. "Be nice," he says sternly.

That is not an encouraging sign.

Cameron walks away and Mel moves toward me, her eyes scanning me up and down. "I can see why he hired you."

I clear my throat. "Why do you say that?"

"He only hires attractive waitresses." Her eyes drift over me again. "Come with me. I'll show you where to put your things."

As I walk behind her, I notice that she's dressed like me, although her skirt is a lot shorter than mine. I tap her on the shoulder and lower my voice. "I don't have to kiss Cameron on the cheek, do I?" I recoil at the thought.

She laughs. "No, but it'll do you a lot of good to be very friendly to him. The tips here are worth putting up with him. I encourage it, though, because I usually get the best shifts when I do."

I've already decided that that won't be happening. I guess I'll have to deal with getting the crappy shifts.

We walk past the tables, then through the large doors and into the kitchen area. Mel puts her bag on a shelf. "Put your bag up here."

As I put my bag away, Mel's phone beeps. She pulls it out, then laughs when she stares at the screen and types.

"Boyfriend?" I ask, making small talk.

She waves me off, then puts her phone away. "No, a guy from this dating app I'm on."

I blink a few times, unsure how to reply. "Cool."

Butterflies perform acrobatics in my stomach as I make every effort to take in Mel's instructions on the details of my job. Cameron was right. It doesn't seem too complicated, and I try to remember table numbers and the menu.

Apart from Cameron watching my every move, my first shift is a blur of friendly faces and the delicious aroma of food wafting through the restaurant. Once the last patron leaves, I help clean the tables and then grab my bag. Cameron leans against the wall close to me, making me take a small step back.

His eyes flick over me before he says, "How was your first shift?"

"Good, thank you."

He smiles. "I'll see you tomorrow at the same time. Can you also work the evening shift tomorrow?"

More shifts, more money. "I sure can. I live with Lucy and the girls. Jeremy said he'll see you tonight."

Cameron's brows lift. "You live with Lucy?"

I nod.

"Looks like we'll be seeing a lot more of each other. Are you coming out to the diner too?" he asks.

I'm not sure how I feel about seeing my boss at my house. "Early night for me tonight. Have fun though."

I follow Mel outside and glance around one last time. "Are there any other staff members I haven't met yet?"

"Only a couple of girls that do casual shifts," Mel answers.

At my last restaurant there was both waiters and waitresses. "Aren't there any waiters?"

She opens the door and we walk out. She flashes me a smile. "You noticed that, huh? Cameron reckons women bring in more customers—therefore, more money—but I think he just likes to perve on us. I saw Cameron's got his eye on you."

A sense of unease twists knots inside of me, despite my attempts to stay optimistic. I don't want any special attention. I want to do what I do best—blend into the background. My introverted self doesn't enjoy going out to socialize. I'm happy being at home reading a book.

A loud rumble makes me jerk, and I pivot to the sound of motorcycles passing us. I count seven black bikes that, even for a person who knows nothing about bikes, look high-end. Their black and chrome parts shine in the sun. The men driving them, who are wearing matching vests, seem scary.

"That's the War Brothers MC," Mel says after they pass us. "They're the hottest men in town." She lets out a long sigh. "What I wouldn't do to become a sweet butt."

I turn around to face her. "What's a sweet butt?"

"The women who are allowed to live there with the men. They help at the clubhouse doing cleaning and cooking, but they're in it for the sex and to live there rent-free. I'm so jealous!"

I'm disturbed by that revelation and realize I grew up very sheltered.

Her phone pings, and she pulls it out and smiles. Her eyes return to mine. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No." Henry and I are just friends now. He has always treated me well, but our connection seemed more like a friendship than a romantic relationship.

"Have you thought about setting up a profile on a dating app?" she asks enthusiastically.

I shake my head. "I recently got out of a relationship. I'm not interested. Anyway, aren't the guys on them only after sex and hooking up?"

"No, you can put what you're after on your profile. Everyone's rich here. You have to agree that it would be lovely to go out and be wined and dined for a night. It's whatever you want it to be."

I shrug. "It doesn't interest me." I just moved here. I have next to no experience with guys and the thought sends my heart racing.

She tilts her head. "You're weird, you know that?"

I chuckle. "Yes, I'm well aware." I've always been shy; I can't help it. I live vicariously through the books I read.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she says over her shoulder as she walks away.

"See you then," I reply and walk over to my car.

A new town, a new job, and an unspoken hope for a new beginning.