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worse than giving a speech was having to sit there and pretend to listen

while everyone else gave them.

Christina tried to cultivate gratitude— another token statement. She was

lucky to have a good job. She made a decent living for herself and didn’t

have to rely on her father for a position in his company or for handouts into

her bank account every month. She’d made her own way. She’d made the

decision to come here. The night would eventually end, and she’d get to go

back to doing a job she truly enjoyed. There was lots of opportunity in

Austin. Lots.

Shifting uncomfortably in the hard chair, Christina started going over

her speech again in her head. One thing her father had taught her that stuck

was— okay, there were a few things. Always act appropriate in public. Put

in a good face even when everything is going wrong. Never be late. Respect

other people and their time. Never make a speech from a fucking cue card.

“What the ever living….” An angry voice erupted from the right.

Christina’s head jerked up from the dessert that she’d been pretending to

eat. She’d been pushing around the piece of nasty, dry chocolate cake for

the past ten minutes. She turned her head sharply in the direction of the

voice in time to see a forty-something year old, balding guy in a pinstripe

blue suit explode out of his chair. He stared malevolently at the waitress in

front of him who was holding a big round black tray. She in turn was

staring at the guy in wide eyed horror.

Apparently, the tray’s entire contents had dumped straight down the

guy’s front. His lap region was especially soaked. There were glasses

scattered all over the blue flecked carpet around the guy’s chair.

“I’m—I’m— so— s-sorry,” the waitress stammered.

She wasn’t far and Christina studied her. The woman was probably in

her mid-twenties. Her dirty blonde hair was tucked up in a messy bun on

top of her head. Her moss-green eyes were huge and filled with shocked

terror.