When he said "come," I had no idea what that meant.
I'm not a waiter. I'm just covering for one. My sister begged me.
Wearing a pink cravat and a bad attitude isn't the best look.
But I plaster on a smile and get on with it.
Then I meet him.
James Morgan is forty, hot, filthy rich.
I'm not on the menu but he's ordering anyway.
When he tells me to...
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