Читать книгу The Number 8 - Joel Arcanjo - Страница 10

Chapter 1

“Oh, will you just relax!” Asmir Nankin shouted at his friend as they sat at a bar in Auckland, New Zealand.

Dante Darion was slumped in a corner frowning and feeling sorry for himself.

“We’re here now, stop being a baby,” Asmir continued.

Dante dragged himself into an upright position and feigned a smile.

“Better?” he said sarcastically.

“It happened. You know you messed up, you can do better next year,” Asmir said and threw his hand up in the air. This caught the waitresses’ eye and she strode over to him smiling.

“We’ll have another bottle of Dom Pérignon. My friend here needs a bit of a pick-me-up,” he said gesturing towards Dante. “Here’s a little something for you too.”

He made a point of taking out a large roll of crisp bills and counting out two hundred New Zealand dollars very slowly before handing it over to the wide-eyed waitress. He had been doing this kind of thing to each of the female waitresses all evening.

“Thank you…so much,” she stuttered as she placed the obscenely large tip into her back pocket.

Dante rolled his eyes, “Really?! That’s the third tip you’ve given out. One of the girls wasn’t even serving us!”

“But she was beautiful though. Right?” Asmir grinned.

“You do realize that you just gave her one hundred pounds?”

Asmir flapped the air in front of his face. “So what? We’re on holiday. I can splash out a little bit.”

“A little bit would be getting a couple of extra sides or an extra bottle of wine, not tipping every girl that smiles at you.”

“You say potato and I say tomato.”

“That’s so wrong, I can’t even…”

Asmir interrupted him mid-sentence. “I’m making it my mission to get you out of this funk this holiday. So you bombed this year at Uni, there’s always next year. You broke up with your girlfriend. There’s plenty more fish in the sea. Plus, she was awful, D. You know I never liked her.”

Dante sank into his chair. “I liked her though…”

“She wasn’t good for you, man. As for the bad grades, I know that’s not what you’re used to, but it happened. You either get over it or let it drag you down.”

“The second option,” Dante said, sinking even lower in his chair.

“I get why you are so broken up about your Uncle, man. The guy was awesome, but the other two things? They’re minor.”

Dante’s Uncle had died over the summer while everything else had been happening. It had been three months and he still felt a tightness in his throat whenever he thought about it. Asmir saw this and quickly intervened.

“No, this is not happening. I’m not letting you sulk this whole holiday. Where’s that girl with my champagne?” Asmir swiveled from left to right trying to catch a glimpse of her in the crowd.

“You know, you should probably wait for someone to bring you your order before you tip them. It gives them incentive to do a good job. That girl is probably telling her friends right now about this young, rich, Indian guy who tipped her two hundred dollars right now.”

“You think I look Indian?”

“You definitely don’t look Russian. You could pass for Iranian, but I would still say Indian.”

“Yeah. Well I know I don’t look Russian. Now Dad looks Russian and Mum looks like she’s from the Middle East, but how can that create an Indian-looking guy?”

Dante raised his hands as if to say “Don’t ask me.”

He took another beat and then said, “Hey.” But Asmir was preoccupied with his search for the missing waitress.

“Hey!” he said a little louder.

This time Asmir heard him.

“I just wanted to say thanks for this trip.”

“Don’t thank me yet, mate.”

“I know, I know, but I really appreciate this. I couldn’t afford this trip on my own…”

“Stop, D. I’ve got it, I understand.”

Dante nodded and left it at that. Asmir hated to talk about money, but he loved flashing it. His family was incredibly wealthy. His father was a partner at a well-renowned legal firm and his mother was from Iranian oil money. Asmir had paid for this trip out of his own pocket and despite his current mood, Dante was grateful.

“I bet you a new girl comes out with the champagne,” Dante said glancing around the bar.

“Why?”

“If she’s smart she’s gone to tell her friends there’s a big tipper and he’s waiting for his bottle. New girl comes out with the Dom and gets the same tip.”

“Pff, yeah right.”

Sure enough, two minutes later a new girl came to the table with Asmir’s champagne and a look that told Dante that she knew all about “the money at table four”.

Asmir reluctantly tipped her the same as her friend and looked at Dante who was wearing an “I told you so” smile.

“And that, my friend, is why you tip afterwards.”