Santa Baby Read Online Free PDF Page A

resented the way that she had stood up for the other waitresses and waiters, many of whom were from Eastern Europe, when Vera had tried to pull a fast one by claiming they were not entitled to sickness or holiday pay, which in fact they were. But because Tiffany’s dad knew the owner of Mamma Mia’s, Vera had to play nice. But not that nice.
    Tiffany was just putting on her coat at the end of her very long shift when Vera called her in to the tiny office at the back of the restaurant. She sat down behind the desk while Tiffany had to perch on the small stool. The office was so small that Vera’s large breasts seemed to dominate the room, encased as they were in a purple, shiny wrap dress. Like two giant Quality Streets, Tiffany thought, trying to cheer herself up. It was quite a combination set against Vera’s aquamarine eyes – coloured contact lenses, Tiffany was sure, though the manageress claimed they were naturally that colour.
    ‘I know how you like everything to be official and above the board,’ said Vera in her strongly accented English.
    ‘You just say above board,’ Tiffany couldn’t stop herself from saying.
    Vera smiled. ‘So clever, Tiffany. I wonder why you are still waitressing?’
    Tiffany’s stomach lurched. Was she going to be fired? She owed rent and needed to pay her phone bill. Why hadn’t she been nicer to the irritating couple?
    ‘So, this is a formal warning.’ Vera drummed her purple acrylic nails against the desk for emphasis. ‘If we have any more instances of poor service from you, then I shall have no choice but to let you go.’
    Tiffany opened her mouth, all set to defend herself, then closed it. She didn’t want to say anything she might regret, anything that might give Vera the chance to get rid of her on the spot.
    ‘Do you understand?’ the manageress demanded, fixing her with a beady unnaturally blue glare.
    ‘I understand, Vera.’
    For a week, Tiffany managed to keep her head down and stayed out of Vera’s bad books. But on Friday night, at eight o’clock, the customer at table fifteen proved to be her undoing. She was taking over from one of the other waitresses whose shift had finished. As she walked over to table fifteen, she was so busy avoiding other waiters who were rushing to tables with orders of food that she didn’t see who was sitting there until she was right in front of him. To her dismay, she saw it was the tosser from the nightclub, Gavin. Of all the people she had hoped she would never have to see again, he was high on her list. Number one, in fact. But maybe he wouldn’t recognise her? Customers often only saw the black waitress uniform and didn’t notice the face at all. Unfortunately, not Gavin.
    ‘Hello, Tiffany.’ He did his gross-out thing of looking her up and down.
    ‘I’ve just signed another big deal and was in the area and fancied pizza. I’m slumming it a bit, to be honest. Usually I’d go to Nobu or J. Sheekey’s. But you know when you get that urge for something really cheap?’ He put extra emphasis on ‘cheap’.
    ‘Well, here’s your starter.’ Tiffany tried to sound casual, even though every inch of her was screaming: ‘Wanker alert!’ Was it pure chance that he had ended up in her restaurant or had the creep planned it?
    She placed the garlic bread with melted mozzarella in front of him, trying to manoeuvre her body so as to put the maximum amount of distance between them. But all the time she was aware of Gavin’s arrogant gaze raking over her.
    ‘Black pepper?’ she asked, reaching for the tall pepper grinder.
    He nodded. As she twisted the wooden grinder, he said, ‘I see you’re good with your hands. Is that how you supplement the pathetic wages you get here?’
    She managed to put the grinder back on the table without decking him across the head with it. ‘Can I get you anything else?’
    ‘I’ll have a bottle of wine. The best one the restaurant does, even though I’m prepared for it to taste like