Chapter 6: The Price of Being Seen
Tasha barely remembered walking into the manager's office.
One moment she was standing in the dining room, staring after Nia Brooks. The next, she was sitting in a chair opposite Mr. Whitaker's desk, listening to the muffled sounds of the restaurant continuing without her.
She could still see the raised middle finger in her mind.
She could still hear the words.
Fuck you.
The memory burned.
She had been insulted in front of customers, coworkers, and the man she had spent the evening trying to impress. Worse, Nia had delivered the insult after making it clear that she wasn't threatened by Tasha.
That was the part Tasha couldn't accept.
If Nia had screamed, cried, or thrown a glass, Tasha could have told herself that she had gotten under the woman's skin.
But Nia had walked away with Marcus.
She had made her point and left.
Tasha was the one left standing.
Mr. Whitaker closed the office door and took his seat.
“Do you want to explain what happened tonight?””
Tasha folded her arms.
“I think you saw enough.””
“I saw the end of a confrontation. I didn't see everything that led to it.””
“She came back to the table and started insulting me.””
Mr. Whitaker looked at her for several seconds.
“Why did she come back?””
Tasha looked away.
“Because she was angry.””
“About what?””
“Apparently, she thought I was flirting with her boyfriend.””
“Were you?””
Tasha's head snapped up.
“I was doing my job.””
“That's not an answer.””
She clenched her jaw.
“I was being friendly.””
Mr. Whitaker leaned back.
“Tasha, I've managed this restaurant for eleven years. I've dealt with difficult customers, dishonest employees, people having bad days, and people who confuse professional courtesy with personal interest. I know the difference between a server being friendly and a server repeatedly making inappropriate comments.””
Tasha's eyes narrowed.
“So you're taking their side?””
“I'm trying to establish what happened.””
“No. You're already blaming me.””
“Because three separate people have reported concerns about your behavior tonight, including your coworker.””
Tasha stared at him.
“Denise?””
“She approached me before the situation escalated. She said you'd been making repeated personal comments toward the customer and ignoring his requests to be left alone.””
Tasha felt heat rise into her face.
“Of course she did.””
“Don't turn this into an argument with Denise. We're discussing your conduct.””
“I didn't touch the man. I didn't proposition him. I didn't do anything that serious.””
Mr. Whitaker's expression grew stern.
“You don't have to touch someone or make an explicit proposition to cross a professional boundary. You were asked to stop making personal comments, and you continued.””
Tasha looked down at her hands.
For the first time, the facts sounded different when someone else said them aloud.
She remembered Marcus asking her to treat them like any other customers.
She remembered his expression when he told her he had no intention of losing Nia.
She remembered Nia asking whether she wanted a medal for not touching him.
Each memory made her feel smaller.
But shame was difficult for Tasha to sit with. She had spent much of her life turning it into anger before it could settle.
“And what about what she did?”” Tasha demanded.
“She stood there and gave me the finger. She cursed at me in front of everybody. Are you going to pretend that's professional?””
Mr. Whitaker paused.
“No. Her language was inappropriate, and I'll document the confrontation. But her reaction doesn't erase what happened before it.””
Tasha shook her head.
“Unbelievable.””
“You're welcome to disagree. You're not welcome to ignore the standards of this restaurant.””
He opened a folder on his desk.
“I'm removing you from the floor for the remainder of your shift. Before you return to work, we'll need to discuss the incident formally. Depending on what the reports establish, further disciplinary action may follow.””
Tasha stared at him.
“You're suspending me?””
“I haven't made that decision yet.””
“But you might?””
“Yes.””
The word hit her harder than she expected.
She had worked at the restaurant for almost two years. The money was good, the tips were better than those at most nearby establishments, and the job gave her access to a world of wealthy customers she sometimes imagined joining.
Losing the position would hurt.
But the possibility of being disciplined wasn't the only thing frightening her.
People had seen her lose.
They had seen a woman reject her advances without hesitation. They had seen Marcus choose his girlfriend in unmistakable terms. They had watched Nia deliver the final insult while Tasha stood frozen.
And now they might hear that she had been removed from the floor.
Tasha swallowed.
“Everybody's going to think I'm some desperate woman.””
Mr. Whitaker's expression softened slightly, though his voice remained firm.
“People are going to form their own opinions. You can't control that. What you can control is how you behave from this point forward.””
She let out a bitter laugh.
“That's easy for you to say.””
“It's my responsibility to make sure every customer feels comfortable here. Tonight, two customers did not. That's something I have to take seriously.””
Tasha stared at the desk.
For a moment, she wanted to tell him everything.
She wanted to explain that Marcus had made her feel invisible, that Nia's calm confidence had irritated her, that she had wanted to prove she could attract a man who already had everything she could offer.
But none of those explanations would make her behavior acceptable.
And she wasn't ready to say the words that mattered most.
I wanted him to choose me because I couldn't stand that he wouldn't.
Instead, she stood.
“So what now?””
“Finish the incident report with me. Then you can collect your things and go home.””
Tasha gathered her purse and followed his instructions.
The report asked for a description of the interaction, the names of the customers involved, and an account of the comments that had been made.
She wrote several sentences, crossed them out, and started again.
Every version made her sound worse than the one before.
Eventually, she put down the pen.
“I don't know what else to write.””
Mr. Whitaker pointed to the final section.
“Write what happened. Don't write what you wish had happened.””
Tasha stared at the paper.
For several seconds, she didn't move.
Then she began again.
Across the restaurant, Denise was wiping down the service station when a coworker approached her.
“Did you see what happened?””
Denise sighed.
“I saw enough.””
“Was that waitress really flirting with the guy all night?””
“Yes.””
“Why would she do that when his girlfriend was sitting right there?””
Denise folded a clean cloth.
“Because sometimes people get so caught up in proving they can get attention that they forget other people aren't objects in a competition.””
The coworker nodded slowly.
“That's sad.””
“It is,” Denise replied.
“But being hurt doesn't give you permission to hurt somebody else.””
Neither woman noticed that Tasha had emerged from the hallway.
She heard the final sentence.
Her footsteps slowed.
For one moment, she stood just beyond the doorway, listening to the conversation.
Then Denise turned and saw her.
The coworker immediately fell silent.
Tasha's face tightened.
“You can say whatever you want. I know everybody's talking about me.””
Denise set down the cloth.
“I wasn't trying to embarrass you.””
“You didn't have to. You helped make sure the manager heard everything.””
“Because I thought you were about to make things worse.””
Tasha laughed bitterly.
“You could have minded your business.””
Denise looked at her with genuine disappointment.
“And if I had, what would that have accomplished? You would have kept going until somebody called security or a customer filed a formal complaint.””
Tasha stared at her.
“You really think I'm that terrible?””
“No,” Denise said.
“I think you did something terrible tonight. Those aren't the same thing.””
The answer caught Tasha off guard.
Denise continued.
“You're funny. You're good at your job when you focus. And you can be a good friend. But when you decide you need to prove something, you stop caring about how your choices affect other people.””
Tasha's eyes burned.
She hated that Denise wasn't yelling at her.
She hated that the woman wasn't insulting her or calling her names.
It would have been easier if Denise had been cruel. Then Tasha could have defended herself.
Instead, Denise was offering her a truth she didn't want to hear.
“Forget it,” Tasha muttered.
She walked toward the staff lockers, collected her coat, and changed out of her uniform.
When she emerged from the employee entrance, the night air was cool against her skin.
She stood beneath the awning, holding her purse against her side.
Across the street, a couple walked hand in hand toward a parked car. The woman laughed at something the man said, and he bent to kiss her cheek before opening the passenger door.
Tasha looked away.
She didn't know why that small moment bothered her so much.
She had spent the evening trying to interfere with another couple's happiness, yet seeing two strangers treat each other gently now made her feel painfully alone.
Her phone vibrated.
A message from her younger sister, Simone, appeared on the screen.
You still coming to Mom's on Sunday? She keeps asking about you.
Tasha typed Yes, then deleted it.
She typed Probably, then deleted that too.
Finally, she put the phone away without answering.
She didn't want to talk to her mother. She didn't want to explain why she was upset. She didn't want to admit that a man she barely knew had made her feel rejected, or that his girlfriend's confidence had exposed something she had tried to hide for years.
She wanted to go home, close the curtains, and pretend the night had never happened.
But she couldn't erase it.
She had watched Marcus choose Nia.
She had watched Nia refuse to compete.
And she had watched herself lose control in front of a room full of people.
For the first time, Tasha began to wonder whether the problem wasn't that other women received the attention she wanted.
Maybe the problem was that she had learned to measure her own worth by whether she could take that attention away from them.
The thought frightened her.
She pushed away from the wall and walked toward the parking lot.
Tomorrow, she would have to face the consequences at work.
May you like
Tonight, she had to face something worse.
The memory of the woman in the black dress walking away with the man who loved her, leaving Tasha standing beneath the golden restaurant lights with nothing to show for the game she had insisted on playing.
