I walked into El Royal already dressed in my work uniform. When I left home Beckett looked like he was traumatized. Every time a song came on during the movie. He would cover his ears and say, 'No not again'.

Blake stood behind the counter watching Seth and another waitress, Rosa, wheel a large four-tier cake into the elevator for the sixteen-year-old girl's birthday party that was going to take place later on.

Thankfully I wasn't going to be working for the party but doing my normal shifts. "Liz, Good you finally decided to show up," Blake said.

"Sorry the bus..." he cut me off by holding up his hand.

He brought his face close to mine. "All you give me are excuses," he spat and stepped back.

"Sorry."

"Anyway Mr. Hendricks personally requested for you to wait on him," Blake said and a warm smile lit up my face. Mr. Hendricks was the man that left me a generous tip a few nights ago."I told him your shift only started at six but he said he'll wait."

"Which table?" I asked.

"Table twelve," he said, not looking up from the computer. I took my notepad from under the desk, grabbed a pen, and walked into the restaurant.

I was going to thank Mr. Hendricks for his generous tip. He was proof that there are people out there that are kind and appreciate other hard-working people's efforts.

As table twelve started to come into view my pace slowed as I stared at the back of the head of the man seated at table twelve. No this couldn't be right...

No, no, no, no!

My heart began to beat rapidly, my palms became sweaty and I wanted to run, but at the same time, I wanted to stand my ground. There had to be some kind of mistake. Was this some kind of a joke. Was Blake playing a prank on me because I came in a few minutes late.

I walked over to the table and stood in front of the man. He was busy on his phone. I opened my mouth to talk but the words refused to come out. Unable to say anything I cleared my throat instead.

His head snapped up at me and he looked at me with a quirked eyebrow. "Hello," he greeted and it would have sounded genuine if it wasn't for the cocky arrogant smirk he had plastered on his face. The audacity.

"You are Mr. Hendricks?" I exclaimed in shock.

"The last time I checked," he said looking down at his phone.

"Wow," my thoughts voiced their opinion.

"Excuse me?" He asked and I shook my head.

"Nothing."

If he was Hendricks why did he leave me the large tip. "I don't like being stared at. Just do your job which is taking my order," he said, irritation clear in his voice.

"Sure sir, what would you like?"

"How about the London Broil."

How about a silver steak!

"Anything to drink."

"Whiskey on the rocks."

I wrote down his order and walked back to the kitchen. Why did he want me to wait on him again and where was his friend. I'm sure his friend must have left the tip and not him. That would make more sense, but still, why would he want me to wait on him after the last time.

I walked into the kitchen and put his order up before walking to the back to meet Brenda since she handled all the drinks. "Brenda," I said and she smiled while filling up glasses with champagne.

"What can I get for you?" she asked and I tapped on the counter.

"You know that customer from a few nights ago?" I asked and she looked at me confused. "Man bun," I said and her face lit up in realization.

"Oh," she sang.

"Well, I just found out that he's the one that left me that large tip and he is here again and ...and," I started to stammer. "He asked for me to be his server," I said in one mouthful and she chuckled.

"Woo, slow down it seems like you about to pass out."

She started organizing the Champaign glasses on a tray and then moved to wipe her hands. "So would you like me to slip a drop of poison into his drink?" she asked, adding a wink.

"I wish," I sighed feeling content with the idea of poisoning Hendricks. "So if he is such an ass face then why did he leave you the tip?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"Don't think about it too much kid. People are strange creatures," she said, reassuringly.

"Anyway he wants whiskey on the rocks."

"Some of the world's finest minds drank whiskey," she said and pulled a bottle of whiskey from under the counter.

"You trying to say he has a fine mind?" I asked and she shook her head and reached under the counter grabbing a glass. She put in two ice cubes and then poured the whiskey over it.

"He seems like a contradicted individual. Take this out to him," she said, pushing the glass towards me. "And remember to smile. You wouldn't want Blake to take you to his office and give you smiling lessons," she chuckled.

"Blake does that?" I wouldn't put it past Blake to do something like that. He wanted us to be well-programmed robots and smile through our teeth even though the customers were rude and arrogant.

"Yup, just ask Bernie where he learned how to smile," she said gesturing to Bernie who was busy at the dessert station smiling at a marshmallow.
I shook off the sight of him and the marshmallow almost immediately. "People are strange Liz and maybe smiling at marshmallows keeps Bernie sane in this madhouse," she said, causing me to snort.

"Maybe," I shrugged,  picking up the whiskey glass and placing it on a tray.

I took the whiskey and headed out of the kitchen and back to table twelve. There was something about Hendricks. Maybe it was his confusing nature that stumped me. He insulted me that entire night, he acted as if I were a bad server, but still, at the end of the night, he left me that tip.

I took the whiskey over to him and placed it on the table. "Watch out!" I heard one of the other waitresses shout. Everything happened so fast I felt a tug on my hand and I felt two arms go around me. When I opened my eyes I was sitting on Hendricks lap. His eyes were boring into mine. They were this outstanding shade of green. They seemed so familiar as if I've stared into them before and for a second it looked like he was about to touch my face, but then he cleared his throat.

"Are you done falling in love?" He asked in a dull tone of voice. He picked me up by my waist and pushed me off his lap. "That would have been rather disastrous," he said, smoothing out his shirt. "Imagine all that champagne going to waste just because you have the reflexes of a sloth."

I was stunned. I didn't know what to say. I straightened my clothes as I kept my eyes fixed on him. "Wow, you really are that mannerless," he said and picked up the glass.

"U-r-m, sorry," I mumbled in confusion. I couldn't fathom why I was apologizing or even still standing in front of him after that.

What was it about him. Why was he this way and why did he seem so familiar. I watched him as he downed the glass on the table. He pushed the empty glass towards me while swallowing the rest of it's remains. "Another," he demanded.

I sighed and took the glass from the table. "And hurry up," he ordered.

Oh yes, supreme overlord, my only purpose in life is to serve you.

"Be right back sir."

I walked into the kitchen and went straight to Brenda. "He does know that you have to serve other customers right."

"No, he probably doesn't. He probably thinks I'm his personal waitress."

She prepared another whiskey on the rocks and placed it on the tray. "Just tell Mr. Rocks that this stuff isn't gummy berry juice. He should take it easy."

I nodded and turned to walk out of the kitchen again when Wayland the head chef stopped me. "London Broil for table twelve is ready, Elizabeth."

"Thank you," I said gratefully. That would save me from making an extra trip to his table.

I placed the food on the same tray as the whiskey and walked back to the table. "Did they have to slaughter the cow first?" He asked sarcasm dripping in his voice and I wanted to shove the food down his throat. "Damn the service here stinks!"

I've had it.

"The chefs take pride in preparing the meals," I defended. Some of the chefs here were excellent and they worked hard to ensure that every dish was as good as the next.

He wouldn't get it. He was so judgmental about everything. He was arrogant and rude. He brought me nothing but discomfort and he made me have violent thoughts. I wanted the night to be over so I didn't have to see his face and be in his presence any longer.

"Be that as it may it's still mediocre," he said and I calmed myself before I said or did something out of line. He was a jerk. "Are you not going to do your job and ask me if I need anything else?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Do you need anything else?" I asked and he narrowed his eyes in on me.

"I would watch the attitude darling," he warned and I scoffed. Just as I was about to walk away he spoke again."It's cold reheat it." I would like to heat my foot and... no Liz don't I told myself. He wasn't worth it. I had to remember the job. I took the plate from him and walked back into the kitchen.

I walked over to the microwave and placed the food in it so that it could be reheated. The food was just cooked and the plate was hot. How hot did he want his food to be. Nevermind I didn't care. I could only hope he burned his venomous tongue to a point where he wouldn't be able to talk. When his food was done getting hotter. I took the food out to him and placed it on the table.

"Anything else?" I asked.

"How about some wine," he said reaching over and opening the wine menu. I wanted to pull all the hair off my scalp. Strand by strand.

"Okay sir I'll be..." he raised a hand cutting me off before I can even complete my sentence.

"I'll be quick no need to go anywhere."

Quick my butt he took twenty minutes looking over the wine options just to say he would have a sherry cobbler. I walked into the kitchen and my feet were already starting to hurt. The pumps were murder.

"Brenda!" I whined.

"You again," she said playfully. "Let me guess it wants another whiskey?"

"No it wants sherry a sherry cobbler," I said and she nodded and turned around to grab a bottle of sherry from the wine rack. "Sherry cobblers are butter and bread. Tell Mr. Rocks to at least make it a challenge." She grabbed an orange, lemon, and pineapple wedge from the fridge. She prepared the drink with ease and placed a few ice cubes in it before placing it on my serving tray.

I took it out to him and he narrowed his eyes. "That was quick," he said. He had a problem when I took my time and now he had a problem when I was quick. There was no pleasing him.

Seeing that he had everything he needed. I was free I would only go back to give him his bill. I went back to the front desk and there was a long line of customers. Serving Hendricks was like serving five customers.

After half an hour of serving other customers, I went to check on the demon that was haunting table twelve. He wanted the bill which I gladly got for him so that he can leave.

He looked up at me when I placed the bill on the table. His eyes looked deep into mine. They were kind but yet he was scowling at me. "Stop staring," he demanded and I walked away heaving a sigh.

I was curious to know why he was the way he was and at the same time, I wanted nothing to do with him. Everyone has a reason for their behavior and I'm sure he did too unless he was just one hundred percent ass all the time.

I watched Hendricks as he stood up to leave. He looked me up and down before finally turning and walking to the front desk to pay his Bill. He was messing with my head. He seemed to despise me, yet he left me a large tip and requested for me to wait on him.

His behavior was confusing. I couldn't understand it. I couldn't understand him but why would I want to, when he was just a stranger. I shook the thought of him out of my head and continued my work.

I served nine more customers and then before I knew it, it was midnight and my shift for the day was over. I walked to the back of the restaurant where the changing rooms are and got my stuff. Brenda walked into the room looking more exhausted than I was.

"You doing okay kid?" she asked and I smiled.

"Thank you so much for tonight," I smiled and she put her hand on my shoulder.

"Come on I'll take you home," she said and I shook my head.

"It's fine I'll take the bus."

"Are you insane at this time of night. Are you even aware of the weirdos out there?" she asked and I paused.

"I have pepper spray," I shrugged.

"That's no good," she said slinging her arm over my shoulder. "Come on."

At this point, I had no chance to argue. She walked me out of the restaurant and to her car. "I've been saving up for a mustang," she beamed. "I'm just half a million dollars short now," she chuckled.

I got into the car and she put it in gear, driving out of the restaurant parking lot. The roads were busy as usual. "So what's your story Liz?" she asked.

"I don't have one," I lied, shrugging. "What's yours?"

"I always wanted to be a mixologist the art of mixing drinks was something I found fascinating," she started and I nodded showing her that she had my attention. "My friends were troublemakers and managed to smuggle some alcohol onto our school grounds. When I first tasted vodka I spat it out. I was disgusted by the taste. I come from a Jewish family. I had only ever tasted kosher wine. The wine is really sweet compared to the horrible taste of vodka. Then I started to wonder about how all the alcoholic drinks tasted. So I started a small experiment. I saved all the pocket money my parents gave me and went down to the liquor store. I was underage so I made a deal with one of the homeless guys sitting outside the store. I filled tiny amounts of vodka, jin, tequila, and whiskey into plastic bottles and gave the homeless guy the rest. I first started experimenting with cranberry juice, lemon juice, and vodka. I used to taste different cap fulls of alcohol and make notes on its flavor pallet. One day I was in school when my mother was cleaning my room. She found the bottles under my bed and when I got home I found my mother in tears while my father stood pale-faced."

"What did your parents do to you after that?" I asked in concern.

"Well, dad insisted I go for therapy because he was convinced I had a drinking problem. So I went for therapy and explained to my therapist what I was doing and she told me about mixology. My parents didn't take well to my career choice. They kicked me out when I turned eighteen. You try explaining to a Jewish family you want to have a career behind a bar," she said letting out another rumble of laughter.

"How did you..." I found myself trailing off because I didn't know how to ask my next question.

"Survive?" She asked with a quirked eyebrow. She went silent for a second as if thinking carefully before she spoke again.

"You know I've been on my own for twelve years now and I'm proud of myself for following my dreams," she said, on a more serious note.

"So how did you end up working at El Royal?"

"I was twenty-five when I was working as a bartender in Manhattan. Blake walked into the place to see everyone crowded around the bar. I used to make a drink called the berry rush. It had jin, tequila, and vodka in it. Blake tried it and he was amazed so he slipped me a business card and now the rest is history."

I guess everyone who has an epic life story ends up at El Royal. Brenda reminded me of my aunt Aubrey. She radiated warmth and had a welcoming smile on her face. It was safe to say she reminded me of Pasadena. I missed my family more than anything but with how busy things have been I've barely had time to be homesick.

"Looks like another blackout," she said when we entered the campus housing. These blackouts were insane. The lights went off at any time of the day. In the morning before university and then at night.

The car stopped outside my house and I let out a sigh. "Thank you so much for the ride Brenda," I said getting out of her car. I looked around and there weren't even any students walking on the road.

"Oh and Liz," Brenda called from her car.

"Hmm?"

"My name is not Brenda it's Ardeth. Blake just calls me Brenda because he is a jerk and can't pronounce my real name," she chuckled and I couldn't help but chuckle along with her. Blake was a real piece of work.

I shook my head as I walked up the driveway and I heard her hoot before she can drive away. I walked into the house and I could hear murmuring coming from the kitchen.

I put on my phone light and walked into the kitchen to see Blaire, Himari, Callum, and Beckett sitting around the table playing cards. "What are you guys doing up. It's a school night," I teased, flashing the light on all their faces.

"Sheesh, mom we were bored," Beckett groaned.

I let out a sigh. "Why are we always having blackouts?" I asked.

They all looked at each other as if they all knew something I didn't. "So it turns out, this what's been going on. It's not a blackout at all. Someone keeps putting the switch off on the main box that supplies this area with power," Himari said in frustration.

"Why doesn't someone just put it back on then?" I asked.

"The box is locked so whoever's doing it is picking the lock or they have a key. We have to wait for security to show up and unlock it to put the switch back up again."

"Why would someone even do something like that," I thought out loud. "It makes no sense at all."

"I don't think the person that's doing this is from around here," Callum said.

"I think it's someone from here," Blaire interjected.

"But why would someone who lived here do that? Beckett asked.

"A prank maybe?" Himari piqued.

"No hear me out," Blaire said and they all turned to her. "We get homework like almost every day and we get credit for showing up for classes. So if there is no power we are excused from doing homework and showing up for morning classes," she said and Himari raised her eyebrow at her.

"You sure know a lot about this stuff. Are you sure you, not the one that's doing this," Himari laughed and Blaire swatted her on the shoulder playfully.

"You guys will never know," she said in a deep voice.

"Dude never do that again. I got chills," Callum squirmed uncomfortably in his chair.

"All these theories are really fascinating." I stifled a yawn. "But what if the switch is faulty so it keeps tripping." They all turned in their seats and looked at me as if I was insane.

"Way to kill the excitement for us," Beckett said and I rolled my eyes.

"Whatever, I'm going to my room before you guys induct me into the conspiracy theory program."

"Awww, come on. We have free t-shirts," I heard Callum say and they all chuckled.
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A/N

Not All Bad Boys Are The Same, reached 1K reads. Thank you guys for all the reads, votes, and comments thus far. Your feedback encourages me to keep on writing. 💜

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