3. Wrong place, wrong time
Equally dripping wet and humiliated, Ben welcomed all revolted glares with his own bitter stare. This wasn’t the first time he’d been humiliated by a date but it was certainly the only time he’d been surprised by a girl who hadn’t taken her happy pills. Every time he went all out to impress a girl and what did he get in return? At best a battered ego and at worst he lost every inch of dignity he struggled to maintain. What right did these girls have to use that sort of power over him? Still when he tried to look on the bright side of things, he realised he could make a fair few dollars from a book on his ordeals.
Trying to compose himself he turned around to see a waiter standing directly behind him. The waiter who was clearly trying to suppress his laughter had a pinched smile on his face, his laughing eyes denying the emotion he was trying to hold in.
“Sir, would you like a tissue with that?” he muttered through clenched teeth.
As Ben stared through weary eyes—captured the look of mock on the waiters face—he just snapped. A sensation of searing rage pouring through him, Ben’s face clouded, his eyebrows funnelled together, and his fist burrowed itself into the waiters face.
“Now you can shove your service, and your tissue and your wine where the sun don’t shine!!” Ben screeched.
Meaty, strong arms clamped onto Ben’s as he was pulled off the livid waiter, only to be roughly escorted to the manager’s office. As he was ushered through the crowded dining room, all that had viewed the scene dismissed feelings of repugnance through their glares—sent Ben’s rowdy exterior slinking back into the cage it escaped from as a sorry, apologetic face replaced it.
Ben wasn’t a violent man, it was simply a case of wrong place, wrong time. Angry at the way women had treated him he was bound to snap at one point or another, but why did it have to be here. Beating the stuffing out of his old teddy would have been a much more safe bet. Cursing himself Ben made a vow never to let a woman affect him like that again. The two men holding onto him seemed determined never to let him go, surely they could see this was a accident? Hoping for the best Ben braced himself as he entered the managers office.
Inside the office Ben sat quietly in a chair, his mind focused on forming a reasonably acceptable apology. As he glanced up from pondering the manager’s face blared a demeaning sense of incrimination. By the looks of it Ben wasn’t going to be let away with just a warning. Gulping slowly Ben felt the prickles of sweat forming like colonies on his forehead, felt the trickle of anxiety slither down his spine. As the waiter in question entered the office, a triumphant smirk formed on his lips, Ben could feel his rage bubbling up once more. He knew he couldn’t let it consume him, he had to control the rage and remember the good times, the people in his coffee shop, his best friend Jose.
The manager was a tall stocky man, with a baldhead and unshaved stubble on his face. He wasn’t what you would call attractive but he was sure women were drawn to the man’s rugged exterior and his bad boy attitude. His smart attire made him look like he was straight out of a gangster movie.
“So Ben I hear you did this to our wonderful waiters face?” The manager started, addressing Ben. “Yes I did, but I can tell you it wasn’t without reason!” Ben muttered.
“Is this true Brendan?” the manager questioned to the waiter.
The waiter feigned shock.
“No, no way he came at me like a animal, pushing me to the ground before punching my face in!” “That’s a lie and you know it is!” Ben shouted.
The manager turned round slowly, his beady eyes settling on Ben’s form. “A lie? So would you like to explain what really happened?”
“First of all when I came in here with a girl he seemed to think I was telling him to bend over when it was my name! Then when the girl got a little, well, rowdy she threw drink all over me and HE came and sneered in my face, trying ever so hard to force his laughter back. If he had no self control he would’ve been laughing in my face!” Ben muttered.
The manager let out a low chortle, his face set in a sneer.
“So you reckon that’s a good enough reason to launch a savage attack on one of our best waiters? These waiters give you their time, their hours of service and you throw it back in their face by pulling a stunt like this… I think we’re going to have to get the police in to sort this out.” The manager snorted.
The colour drained from Ben’s face and he seemed to go positively white as he absorbed the manager’s words.
“What! But you can’t…”
“Why can’t we? You assaulted a waiter that’s news enough for us.” “Oh man.” Ben groaned, his face in his hands.
What if he got sent to jail, what would happen to his coffee shop, the heart of the community? It would go down like a block of demolished flats. And so would Ben.
Swallowing his pride Ben tried to apologise.
“Please sir, can’t I just give my sincere apology and then we can just sweep this under the carpet?” he said hopefully.
The manager’s eyes gawked at Ben as if he was crazy. He looked around the room and smiled at the waiter who sat there innocently, like butter wouldn’t melt.
“After an indecent assault against our waiters? You’d be lucky my son. The police are on their way, what they do with you is their own choice.”
“This is outrageous!” Ben yelled.
“You would say that.” The waiter laughed.
Minutes later the police arrived, their manner both professional and stern. “Where is he?” they asked.
The manager pointed directly at Ben and smirked as the cops closed the handcuffs on Ben’s wrists. The cuffs felt cold and restrictive on his wrists and he could only bear to think positive thoughts as they led him away. Anything negative would be enough to destroy him.