Alex

Alex noticed the guy immediately—how could they not? For three weeks in a row, he’d shown up at the Laughing Pie with a different woman on his arm. The pub wasn’t exactly a hotspot for serial daters, but here he was, slipping in like clockwork. Three dates in three weeks. This wasn’t dating—it was some kind of elaborate scoring game. Alex didn’t want to notice, but they couldn’t help it. It’s more that they didn’t bother with him. There were plenty of other regulars, and they were more talkative. Just another customer—except he’d been here three weeks in a row with three different gorgeous women.

The first one was a quick date. The first woman was all business—sharp suit, short ponytail, constantly checking her phone. He seemed intimidated by her, probably an age gap.

The second was bubbly but firm, her laugh filling the room as she chided him for some clumsy joke. She laughed a lot. He was apparently fun, good point for him the waitron guessed. Nevertheless, his accent made him hard to understand. The waitron with their French accent couldn’t reprimand him. Alex noticed how he leaned forward when she spoke, like he didn’t want to miss a word. She looked like the kind of single mum who had finally allowed herself one wild night out.

Each time, they chatted, drank and ate a lot. He ordered more than they could eat. He insisted on paying and walked the lady back home. Alex watched him leave, his steps uneven, like he was compensating for a sore leg. The wine flowed freely at their table. Still, the guy was careful, holding the door for his date and waiting until she was down the steps before limping after her.

Today was the third time and he arrived late. Alex noticed her already waiting. It was near 9p.m. and she had just ordered a glass of wine. She was expecting someone. And even a dropout like Alex was able to make two plus two and understand it would be him again. Sure, he was good-looking, but it couldn’t be only that. He wasn’t arrogant—if anything, he seemed shy, constantly adjusting his tie or glancing at his date like he needed reassurance. Was he just really good with dating apps? Maybe he was rich or actually charismatic. Charisma is easier to fake when your date doesn’t know they’re the third in as many weeks. She looked more like a country girl. She was strong, wearing a sunflower-patterned dress that was snug across her muscular shoulders. She was patient and waited in silence. But she had a really big smile, capable of illuminating any room even in those dark evenings. Alex was sad to leave her to a guy like him.

When he arrived, he was already limping and totally not ready for his date. He slipped into the restroom to fix his suit and freshen up before joining her, a bit of vanity and a lot of nerves. He kept up appearances. The rest of the date went off quite slowly. He ordered a lot again. The Laughing Pie menu was not really expensive, it was more of a show-off and a cheap one on top of it. This one had a good appetite because no crumbs were left on both plates. The evening was calm and Alex had nothing more to do than observe them. They expected he would betray himself. But the customer noticed Alex watching. The escaped back in the kitchen. The cook called him a lucky guy, but Alex wasn’t so sure about that. And once again the customer brought the girl home.

Alex was sick the following week and had their shift covered. When they came back, Alex was more curious about the customer than they would like to admit. It was becoming their personal telenovelas. The cook had nothing to report— no date that week, the customer seemed to have been stood up.

At first, Alex dismissed him as just another sleazy guy. But something didn’t add up. His nervous fidgeting, the way he leaned forward during conversations—it didn’t match the image of a confident player. Still, Alex couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something.

Alex joked that the guy wasn’t as ‘lucky’ as he seemed. Maybe karma was finally catching up. But the cook laughed back at them when he pointed to the new girl waiting.
This one was bored. She was wearing a long black dress and what seemed to be a wig. It was slightly early for the customer, but he was already there too. The routine played out again. Showing off, plenty of food and drinks. However, this one was less receptive to the jokes. It was maybe a generation problem as she looked in her early twenties, at best. Alex hesitated to say something and watched as the man quickly looked away, clearly embarrassed. She excused herself to go to the restroom between the main course and dessert.

Even after parading all those girls, the guy had the nerve to try befriending Alex. Really? Bold move, Don Juan. His accent might’ve been charming, but Alex wasn’t blind to what he’d been doing. They kept that thought to themselves. Even during a date, he tried clumsily to learn more about Alex. Like if he really cared about if they had worked as a waitron here for a long time or when the Laughing Pie closed.

He left drunk with the girl smiling for the first time when they were finally outside. She seemed far too young for him—though Alex admitted, people didn’t always look their age. He could try as much as he wants, Alex would not be his fifth week in his hunting board.

Indeed, the next week, Alex wasn’t. But the waitron was sure of something: today’s girl wouldn’t be either. She was definitely too young for him. Alex didn’t intervene before because it was his life not Alex’s, and they could judge as much as they wanted, it was those women’s choice to fall for a guy like that. But this one was, what? A high-schooler at best! She was stressed and ran away to the toilet even before the mains. When Alex approached, the guy looked directly at them. He casually asked when Alex’s service would end as if it was a natural continuity of last week’s pathetic attempt. That was too much. Alex exploded.

“I see exactly what you’re doing,” Alex hissed, their voice low but sharp.

“Four times in a row is your problem, not mine. And I didn’t say anything for the last one, who was already young by the way.” They added poking the table nervously. “But this one could be your daughter, come on! And now you’re hitting on me while she’s in the restroom? I respect myself too much for that. Do you even care about the law? Should I ask her how old she is? Or will you try to drink so much again that you won’t be able to walk straight or be able to remember she is too young for you?”

The man blinked, stunned. Then, to Alex’s shock, he laughed—a deep, full laugh that made Alex’s cheeks burn hotter. Was he that crazy, a psycho not able to realise what was the real situation here?  

“It is so fun to be a drunkard asshole?” Alex hallucinated.

“No, sorry,” he responded, trying to recompose himself but still having a really large smile.

“Let’s see if you’re still smiling when the police get here,” Alex snapped.

“Wait, you saw me inviting five girls and figured out I was a master of the dating pool?”

“Dah. More or less.”

He laughed again.

“And on top of that I was hitting on you? It’s kind of true,” he added.

“So, you admit it,” Alex blamed.

“There were not dates, at least not dates dates. They’re my sisters!” He laughed, shaking his head.

Alex froze. “Your… sisters?”

“I’ve been sick for years, and they took care of me.” He explained with a kind regard in direction of the restroom. “I just wanted to thank them, but it’s been hard to find time with their schedules, so…” He gestured to the table. “Dinner dates.”

Alex wanted to sink into the floor. “Oh…”

They weren’t judging a drunkard ‘lucky’ guy after all—just a man trying to repay his family’s kindness.

“Oh, indeed.” He mocked her trying to catch her eyes.

Alex looked around for an exit point.

“She is spending a long time in the toilets,” the confused waitron managed to mumble.

“You’re right!” he replied concerned with his sexy accent that now was a big reminder of the stupid presumption of Alex.

“I will check,” the waitron said to escape the room fast.

But he laughed one more time.

“I know my sisters, they’ve planned it.”

“Me mistaking you for an asshole and ridiculing myself? A pretty awful joke.”

“No, the toilet thing. You were right before. I was kind of hitting on you and they noticed it. I guess they’ve asked the youngest to hide and leave me time to talk to you.”

“Even after all I said to you. You’re still coming back with that?” Alex blushed.

“I’m a stupid guy sometimes.”

Alex got back up, not remembering when they sat down. They were hoping stupidity could make them invisible. If they weren’t still working, they would have been the fastest runner of this side of the town, just to escape the embarrassment.

That was the moment, the sister decided to come back. Her eyes and big smile were shining. It was indeed a set-up.

“I finish at 10. But don’t expect me to go easy on you—I’ve had enough stupidity for one month.” Alex told him, while getting back to their service, red as a tomato.