Copyright 2012 by ARUL DAS
“Kid, you’re late.” Bart’s half smile let Amber know that she wasn’t fired, at least not yet anyway.
“I’m only a few seconds late, besides, in a lot of locations it would be called fashionably late.”
“Not at the Oasis. Tables six and seven haven’t been helped yet. Beware, they look like potential muffins.”
“Aren’t they all?” She said over her shoulder as she tied her apron around her slim waist. ‘Muffin’ meant player, and to Amber a player was the exact type of man that left her at the altar over a year ago. She still felt the embarrassment, the humiliation, the degradation, and most of all, the shame for not realizing her fiancé was cheating. Soon after the horrible nuptial nightmare, Amber applied for the waitress position at the Oasis night club where she could be constantly reminded of the kind of guy she never wanted to become involved with again – Muffins.