The day slipped by like that, minute after boring minute.
I ate lunch, and then another lunch, and had more coffee, and stared at my phone, and stared at Janine’s beautiful ass, and did all that over again until finally it was around five. Her shift was due to end pretty soon.
Being a bodyguard was boring as shit so far. I absently wondered if I was going to have to take up some new hobby like reading or doing puzzles or some shit, just to fill time, when I noticed something happening at the other side of the diner.
I sat up, watching. Janine had her smile plastered on her face, but I could see the stress clear as day. She was looking down at an older man, maybe in his fifties, and he was smiling smugly at her.
Although I knew I should have stayed out of it, I couldn’t help myself. I was so damn bored, and plus, she was almost done anyway. I stood up and ambled on over.
“Something wrong?” I asked.
Janine looked at me, surprised. “What? No, no, everything is fine.”
The man looked at me. “Who are you?” he asked, making a face.
I smiled at him. “I’m this lady’s bodyguard,” I said. “You got a problem?”
“The only problem is her service,” he said. “She was slow and rude. I was simply explaining why she wasn’t getting a tip.”
I could feel Janine’s tension next to me. “It’s okay, Clutch. Come on.”
I shrugged her off, looking at the guy. He was wearing a business suit and had a smug fucking smile on his face. He was probably some investment banker who got off on stiffing young working girls who had to hustle for every fucking dime. I didn’t like the way he looked at me, the way he seemed like he felt he was superior, and I especially hated the way he was talking about Janine.
I leaned closer to him. “This is the best waitress in this whole fucking place,” I said. “You should be nicer.”
He blinked at me, surprised. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me, you shit-eating cunt. This girl here is worth ten of you. Now tip the fucking girl before I decide to get annoyed and hurt you.”
He stared at me, shocked at the way I was speaking. I gave him my best menacing grin, the sort of look that had made gangsters piss themselves in the past. It was the look I gave people before I hurt them very, very badly.
He slowly reached into his wallet. “I’m going to speak with the manager,” he said as he pilled out some bills.
“No, you’re not,” I said.
“Clutch,” Janine said, “please, stop. Sir, I’m so sorry.”
I held up my hand to silence her. “You’re not speaking a word, because you have to leave this place eventually, and do you think I look like the kind of man who doesn’t hold a grudge?”
He stared at me, comprehending, and I could see the fear. “Okay,” he said, dropping a hefty tip on the table. “We have no problem.”
“Good,” I said, straightening up. “Have a great day, sir.”
He stood and slipped past me. I didn’t move an inch as he practically ran from the place.
Janine smacked my arm. “What the fuck, Clutch?”
I grinned at her. “He shouldn’t have disrespected you.”
It took me a second to realize that people were staring at us. I smiled at the little crowd and gave a small bow. Somebody laughed, and the tension seemed to instantly break, everyone going back to what they were doing.
“This is my job, you asshole,” she said. “I can handle myself.”
“Maybe,” I said, “but I was bored and you got a good tip. It’s all good.”
“If he complains, I will get fired.”
“He won’t. Don’t worry, princess,” I said.
She made a face. “If you do something like that again, I will kick you so hard in the balls that you’ll be singing like a bird for the rest of your life.”
I laughed, loving the fire. “You’re welcome near my balls any day, girl.”
She made a face and just turned and walked away.
I went back to my booth, smiling to myself. The day had been so damn boring, but I truly loved getting a rise out of her.
And I loved putting smug, asshole businessmen in their fucking place.
Maybe the day wasn’t such a waste after all.
7
Janine
That arrogant bastard.
I was fuming as I got changed in the back room after work. Just ten minutes earlier, Clutch had risked my job by stepping in and intimidating a patron, and if my manager ever heard about it, I was done.
True, that guy was being a dick. There was no doubt about that. He was patiently telling me about how awful I was, and how he wasn’t going to tip me at all. I did savor the look on his face as huge Clutch, all covered in tattoos and wearing his Demons leather vest, came walking over to talk to him.