Luxe by Ashley Antoinette

to get on her bad side.
    *   *   *
    â€œWelcome to Picante. You can have a seat anywhere and someone will be right with you, mami, si ?”
    The busy middle-aged woman spoke the words quickly as she passed Bleu with a round tray balanced on her palm. The smell of the Mexican restaurant was amazing, and immediately Bleu’s stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten. She wasn’t there for food, however. She was looking for a job. After partying last night with Aysha and China and sleeping without linens when the night came to a close, Bleu quickly realized that she needed to make some money. Being in L.A. broke was next to impossible, especially when she had the Joneses to keep up with. She had taken a bus twenty minutes away from campus just to find the Mexican joint and she immediately noticed how popular it was. It was nothing special … sort of a hole-in-the-wall joint, but based on how thick the crowd was, Bleu knew that the food had to be good. The Spanish music playing in the background and the green and red Christmas lights that festooned the ceiling, despite the fact that it was nowhere near Christmas, gave the place a vibe all its own. She followed the waitress who was busy serving patrons, as she moved as if she had octopus hands. She was all over the place, refilling drinks, delivering food, settling bills for patrons. She seemed to be the only person working besides the chef, who was visible through the small food window as he slid plates of food through.
    â€œUmm, excuse me, is Eddie here?” Bleu asked.
    â€œEddie’s never here, sweetheart, but I could probably get him to come and help out if he knew a hot young thing like you was asking for him,” the waitress said. She moved with swiftness behind the counter as Bleu followed her. “Who are you?”
    â€œMy name is Bleu,” she answered as she practically chased her around the restaurant, trying to hold a conversation as the lady worked.
    â€œWell, Bleu, if you are going to follow me, you might as well carry something,” the lady said. “Here.” She handed Bleu two plates and then grabbed four and with perfect balance headed to a table. “How do you know Eddie?”
    â€œHe was my cabbie the other night. He told me about this place. Said his wife owns it. Are you his wife?” Bleu asked.
    â€œMarta,” she said.
    â€œMarta, I don’t really need Eddie; I just came to see if you were hiring,” Bleu said. “I’m a student and I could really use the money.”
    Marta stopped walking and wiped her brow with the back of her arm as she exhaled.
    â€œThis is family owned and run,” Marta replied. “I work the floor and the cash register and my mama and papa cook the food. That’s how it has been for ten years.”
    Bleu looked around at the packed establishment. “It seems like you could use an extra waitress. Or at least a dishwasher? I’ll do whatever. I just need a job. I came out to California with nothing. I didn’t know how expensive dreams are out here,” she said.
    The desperation in her eyes shone brightly. It was enough for Marta to sympathize with the young woman.
    â€œWhere are you from?” Marta asked.
    â€œMichigan,” Bleu responded.
    Marta wiped her hands on her apron and then placed one hand on her hip. “Long way from home. How old are you?” she asked.
    â€œEighteen,” Bleu answered.
    â€œFine,” Marta answered in exasperation, giving in. “You can take orders, bus tables, help with dishes and trash. I’ll pay you ten dollars an hour and not a penny more. You get to keep your tips.”
    Bleu’s face melted into a smile of relief. It wasn’t much, but her pockets would have more than lint in them, and for that she was grateful.
    â€œThank you,” Bleu said.
    â€œYou’re in school, right?” Marta asked. She was all business. A