reached adulthood and others who were spending their time in jail. He realized Cedric's life would never be easy, but he wanted to give him an opportunity he never had.
He patted Lance on the shoulder, appreciative of his patience. "Just give him a little more time. He'll straighten out."
Trent spoke up. "He doesn't deserve to be here. We weren't hired to be baby-sitters."
"No one is asking you to baby-sit."
"I am not being paid to excuse the mistakes of some overgrown kid with an attitude problem. This is a restaurant, not a job corps for delinquents."
Drake's voice was soft. "If you don't like your job you can leave it."
There was a terse silence. Then Trent said, "Fine." And stormed out back.
"I'll try to talk to him," Lance said.
Drake waved his hand. "Forget it. I don't like staff that argues with me in public. Continue working."
Lance sighed and left. Eric shook his head. "You should have tried to reason with him."
"Why?"
"Because he’s good. The reason restaurants run well, are a direct result of our managers. Besides, he has a point."
"So?"
"You could have explained—"
"No. If people don't understand why I do something, that's their problem. I didn't get to where I am by explaining every action I make."
"Just don't lose people based on ideals. If Cedric doesn't shape up, you'll have to get rid of him. And that will be his fault, not yours." He patted his brother on the back, unable to stop a smug grin. "And now I'll leave you to find a new assistant manager since that is your fault and not mine."
* * *
He was a silhouette in blue jeans. Cassie watched Drake enter the restaurant, oblivious to the eyes of appreciation that followed him as he approached the large round table. He seemed to move in rhythm to the soft music that floated around them. She watched him walk up to the man who sat next to her studiously checking his notes. He said in a low voice, "There's a chair over there waiting for you. It includes a free drink," and slipped the man a five.
The man pushed the money in the pocket of his plaid shirt, gathered his notes, and stood. "It's all yours, buddy."
Drake sat down and smiled at Cassie's stunned expression. "Well, that was bold!" she said.
He scooted his chair closer, brushing his leg against hers. "I always take the advice of my instructors, especially if it works."
"I suppose you're aiming to be my most improved student."
He searched her eyes. "No, I'm aiming much higher than that."
Unable to think of a satisfactory response, Cassie began the discussion. However, keeping her mind focused proved difficult. She knew Drake wasn't trying to drive her mentally insane on purpose, but the fact could not be ignored. He was distracting. Just his voice made her lose track of her notes any time he asked a question. She was too aware of how he watched her, how his arm brushed hers when he moved, how his scent seemed to draw her to him, how his face remained serious when everyone else was laughing.
She silently breathed a sigh of relief when the remainder of the class arrived. She placed the group into couples to interact. After fifteen minutes, she told them to switch partners.
The exercise helped people relax in a social atmosphere, learn to conduct small talk, and utilize body language. Cassie tried to remain impartial, going around to all of the couples, listening and observing them, but her eyes somehow always found where Drake sat and strayed to whoever he was talking to. When the exercise was over, some students left while others continued their discussion. Cassie was invited to join a group for a meal, but she declined and gathered her things.
Cassie overheard two women who had been paired with Drake.
"Oh, my God," one groaned, buffing her nails. "The man is so stuck-up."
The other slipped into a bright sweater with embroidered giraffes. "Stuck-up? He's so boring he makes grass growing look good. Yesterday, you'd have thought he was some sort of seducer. What a
He patted Lance on the shoulder, appreciative of his patience. "Just give him a little more time. He'll straighten out."
Trent spoke up. "He doesn't deserve to be here. We weren't hired to be baby-sitters."
"No one is asking you to baby-sit."
"I am not being paid to excuse the mistakes of some overgrown kid with an attitude problem. This is a restaurant, not a job corps for delinquents."
Drake's voice was soft. "If you don't like your job you can leave it."
There was a terse silence. Then Trent said, "Fine." And stormed out back.
"I'll try to talk to him," Lance said.
Drake waved his hand. "Forget it. I don't like staff that argues with me in public. Continue working."
Lance sighed and left. Eric shook his head. "You should have tried to reason with him."
"Why?"
"Because he’s good. The reason restaurants run well, are a direct result of our managers. Besides, he has a point."
"So?"
"You could have explained—"
"No. If people don't understand why I do something, that's their problem. I didn't get to where I am by explaining every action I make."
"Just don't lose people based on ideals. If Cedric doesn't shape up, you'll have to get rid of him. And that will be his fault, not yours." He patted his brother on the back, unable to stop a smug grin. "And now I'll leave you to find a new assistant manager since that is your fault and not mine."
* * *
He was a silhouette in blue jeans. Cassie watched Drake enter the restaurant, oblivious to the eyes of appreciation that followed him as he approached the large round table. He seemed to move in rhythm to the soft music that floated around them. She watched him walk up to the man who sat next to her studiously checking his notes. He said in a low voice, "There's a chair over there waiting for you. It includes a free drink," and slipped the man a five.
The man pushed the money in the pocket of his plaid shirt, gathered his notes, and stood. "It's all yours, buddy."
Drake sat down and smiled at Cassie's stunned expression. "Well, that was bold!" she said.
He scooted his chair closer, brushing his leg against hers. "I always take the advice of my instructors, especially if it works."
"I suppose you're aiming to be my most improved student."
He searched her eyes. "No, I'm aiming much higher than that."
Unable to think of a satisfactory response, Cassie began the discussion. However, keeping her mind focused proved difficult. She knew Drake wasn't trying to drive her mentally insane on purpose, but the fact could not be ignored. He was distracting. Just his voice made her lose track of her notes any time he asked a question. She was too aware of how he watched her, how his arm brushed hers when he moved, how his scent seemed to draw her to him, how his face remained serious when everyone else was laughing.
She silently breathed a sigh of relief when the remainder of the class arrived. She placed the group into couples to interact. After fifteen minutes, she told them to switch partners.
The exercise helped people relax in a social atmosphere, learn to conduct small talk, and utilize body language. Cassie tried to remain impartial, going around to all of the couples, listening and observing them, but her eyes somehow always found where Drake sat and strayed to whoever he was talking to. When the exercise was over, some students left while others continued their discussion. Cassie was invited to join a group for a meal, but she declined and gathered her things.
Cassie overheard two women who had been paired with Drake.
"Oh, my God," one groaned, buffing her nails. "The man is so stuck-up."
The other slipped into a bright sweater with embroidered giraffes. "Stuck-up? He's so boring he makes grass growing look good. Yesterday, you'd have thought he was some sort of seducer. What a
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