Anthony.
“She’s sweet,” Marco said, as he eyed the new waitress that none of us had ever seen before. This was the tenth time we’ve all been at the restaurant this month. We normally only come three times a month.
“She’ f*cking mouth watering,” Rome said, taking another drink of his scotch.
“And she knows Italian. If she can cook Italian, I might just drop to my knees and ask her to marry me now,” Michael said.
I wanted to take my gun and shoot them all in the face. I don’t know why the sudden rage came over me. They weren’t wrong. She was stunning with her dark brown hair in a braided bun, and her bright sky blue eyes. Her skin was flawless, her lips were pink. She must wear a pink tint on them. The way her black slacks, which were the standard uniform for the restaurant, fit her
