The Hotel Waiter by Sam Milbrath


They share an excited laugh and lean closer to one another over the small round table. He subtly tries to touch her hand just as she mechanically reaches for her lit cigarette that lies slowly smoking on the edge of the ashtray.
“You know what,” the woman says as she takes a quick drag of her skinny cigarette from the side of her mouth, “I will have another drink.” She exhales off to the side and smiles back at him.
The man swivels excitedly in his seat, calling the waiter to no avail.
She picks the last skewered olive out of her empty martini glass and bites it off carefully as to not to smear her glossy red lipstick.
He turns back to her and distractedly swirls his rocks glass of melted ice. 
“What was I saying… Oh yes, how could I have forgotten?,” he admonishes, shaking his head toward the white linen tablecloth. “The show completely sold out after the press got word that you were our new star! You are one hot topic these days, my dear. Any news of you spreads like a wild fire throughout this city!” He lifts his eyebrows proudly as if implying he were responsible for her sudden burst of fame.
Uninterested in his flattery, she quickly scans the dimly lit room for possible fans.
“Of course there are no waiters during this celebratory moment” he mumbles as he impatiently searches for a waiter. 
She takes one last long drag of her lipstick stained smoke and twists it slowly amongst the ashes and butts of others in the tray. 
“I’m so sorry darling,” she says, picking her gold clutch up off the table, “that drink will have to wait for another time. I have just spotted an old friend sitting alone at the bar.” 
He stands half way out of his chair to receive a kiss on the cheek that lands an inch away from his skin. She runs off waving casually to a beautifully dressed man sipping a full scotch at the bar of the hotel.
Defeated, the man slumps down in his chair and thoughtfully picks the dirt out from under his nails.
“Sir,” says a voice in a thick English accent. The man looks up only to find another with a black cloth draped symmetrically over a white shirted forearm. The other says inquisitively, curious about the sudden loss of guest, “would you care for another drink?”