“The guy is an asshole.  No, no...it’s under control.  Of course...yeah...oh maybe, how many do you have...”

I yawn and eye the large diamond ring on my finger for the millionth time this week.  I start to question it again...but I guess that’s because it’s new.  It’s too big, I think.  It’s from Cartier but that’s all I know, because I was too overwhelmed to find out the carat weight and what it’s actually worth.  I mean, it’s beautiful, the envy of all my girlfriends.  They said I’ve struck gold but they don’t understand.  I fell in love with Preston before he was ‘the best litigator in Los Angeles’.  He was different then...so different, and when he proposed last week, I saw a small part of that guy I used to know come back.  I thought he would stick around when I said I would marry him too...

But for the moment, he’s gone back into hiding again.

I mean, yeah, I love the guy, but since he’s taken over the firm, he’s started to turn into one of the most arrogant people I know.  Not towards me of course, he knows I wouldn’t put up with that, it’s everybody else he seems to talk down to.  He’s turning into his father, and I hate that, but I’m hoping he’ll snap out of it once we start making wedding plans.

I’ve been dating Preston Harrington for two years.  Most people would agree with him and his family when they say it’s been entirely too long and that we should have been married long ago.  But I was still in college, and he was still learning the tricks of the law business from his father, so we decided to keep our relationship casual until we could really focus on it.  Now that he’s basically taken over his fathers position at Harrington-Myers, and I’ve established a balanced schedule at Five Acres, we’ve been able to spend that quality time together.  He can be a really sweet, loving, passionate guy when you take him away from work and his snobby family.  That’s the guy I love.

That’s the guy I’m going to work hard to keep close to me.

“So Bets, you wanna go to see the Lakers Friday night?”  He snaps the phone closed and shoves it into his jacket pocket before taking a sip of his wine.  “Eric got court side seats and they gave him an extra pair.”

“I guess so.”

“You guess so?” He laughs.  “C’mon, how can you not be excited about Kobe in the flesh?”

“You know that basketball is my least favorite sport, Pres.” I lean in and give him a small kiss on the mouth.  “Why don’t you just go with one of your other friends?”

“Really?”

I smirk slightly.  True, it’s really unlike me to let him go off on his own with the boys on a Friday night.  Honestly though, I could use a night with my girls, and I know that a couple of them will be available.  “I can hang out with Audra and Steph.  It’s not a big deal.”

He squeezes my hand.  “See, this is why I love you.  You can be so easy.  Most of the guys I know wouldn’t dare ask their wives something like that.”

I guess that’s a compliment?

“Thanks?”  I half laugh.  

He kisses me, and pulls back after a while, leaving me breathless as he smiles back at me.  “We should go out to Malibu on Saturday or something...hang out at the beach house.  Maybe have that celebratory engagement sex...”

“Pres.” I swat him.  “We’re in public.”

“I can’t help it.  I’m still excited that you said yes.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

He’s quiet for a moment.  “I don’t know.  Maybe it was just nerves.”

I look down at the menu and think about what was just said.  I mean, he doubted me. Could he really sense it? That I might think twice because he knew he wasn’t the same guy anymore?  Something inside is telling me that if he could realize that about himself, and not admit it to me...that this whole engagement might be a mistake.

“I know work has been a change,” he admits to me.  “A big one with me, personality wise.”

Well, that’s something.

“I just want you to know that I’m not going to turn into an overgrown miser like my father,” he chuckles.  “I’m going to have a good balance between work and home.  I promise.”

“Ah, Mr. Harrington.  Wonderful to see you.”

We both snap out of it, and look toward the voice.  The owner of the restaurant is standing there, smiling at us.  They know each other well.   His father is great friends with him, and so, we usually end up here a couple of nights a week.

“Hey Frank.”  He shakes his hand.  

“I’ve heard all about your engagement.”  He beams more at me this time.  “How wonderful for the both of you.  You must let us cater the reception, of course.”

I open my mouth to tell him we’ll think about it.

“Naturally.” Preston smiles.

Of course.  I mean, even if I did say something, his family would never think of letting anybody else cater our blessed event.  I suddenly begin to wish that we could elope, but the Harringtons, and my parents, would never forgive me, plus the fact that Preston would never do anything to disappoint his mommy and daddy.

Lucques it is.

“The chef is preparing a special meal for you both,” Frank continues.  “Is there anything else you’d like in the meantime?”

“Some more of this wine would be great.”  Preston points to the bottle.  

“I’ll have somebody on that right away.  Congratulations again.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“As always, lovely to see you Betsy.”

He kisses my hand, and walks away.

“I swear he’s a fag.” Preston laughs.

“Oh my God, why don’t you say it louder?”  I roll my eyes.  “He’s always been nice to us.  Who cares what he does after work?”

“He just likes my fathers money.  You know he’s a big investor here.”

“Who doesn’t like your fathers money?”

He just laughs and squeezes my hand again, as he glances at his empty wine glass.  “Where the hell is this wine?”

“I’m sure it’s on the way, Pres. You’re so impatient.”

“I just want what I deserve.  It comes with the territory, Bets.”

I don’t even answer.  It’s asshole Preston at his finest, and right now, I almost want to leave.  Unlike him, I don’t come from money.  Don’t get me wrong, my parents weren’t dirt poor, we were upper middle class I guess, but I was never raised to feel so entitled like him.  At times, it disgusts me, but then...there’s those other times that I love it...living the good life.  Before I met Preston, I never knew the types of things that you could have if you were rich.  I spend my time in fancy cars, high end shops, his family’s huge estate in Beverly Hills, and more recently...I’ve been living in a luxury high rise condo in the Hollywood Hills.  It was a present given to Preston from his father, after he passed the Bar.

But none of that has turned me into a snob, and I guess that’s because when I go to work, I remember how many people are less fortunate than myself.  That’s why I love it, why I would never quit, because there will always be somebody who I can help, and that alone will keep me grounded.

“Finally.”  Preston grunts it as the wine waiter arrives with the fresh bottle for us.  It’s not the same waiter as before though.  No, the other was older, seasoned, knew exactly what to say and where to stand.  This guy is young, probably new, and I know...if Preston is in the mood, he’ll use him as his prey the same as every other time.

I pray he can just pour the wine and get out before that happens.  He looks beyond exhausted, and I’m sure this type of work is no party.

“Sorry about the wait.” The young man forces a smirk and pulls the bottle out of its chiller.  “Had to go down to the wine cellar for it.”

“Well, you could have moved a little faster,” Preston replies.  “I like two glasses before dinner.”

I feel my face grow hot, and I don’t look anywhere else but down at the table.  Really?

Then I hear laughter, but it’s not Preston’s.

Which means my fiance is being laughed at.

I pick my head up to view our new waiter, take a long look at him this time, and I realize...he can’t be much older than us. He’s cute...in a rugged sort of way.  He has slightly untamed curly hair and stubble that he should have probably taken care of before he came to work, but something is telling me that Frank is giving this guy a break. The bags under his blue eyes make him look run down, really tired, and I’m sure he has a lot going on outside of this place, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to take shit from a guy like Preston.

“What’s funny?” Preston snaps.

“Nothing...nothing don’t even worry about it.”  The waiter fills Preston’s glass, then mine.  “Anything else I can do for you tonight?”

“Yeah.”  

Then Preston does the worst thing possible.  He knocks the glass off the table, causing it to shatter all over the floor.  I feel the wine running underneath my shoes, and I try my best to pick my feet up from the floor.  “Pres!” I gasp.

He waves me off.  “Well, what are you waiting for, you idiot?  Clean it up right now.”

The waiter stares him down, giving him the meanest, coldest look I think I’ve ever seen.  It’s with good reason of course, but there’s more to him, I can just tell.  

He just...doesn’t take this kind of treatment, from anybody.

“What the fuck is your problem!” The waiter yells.  “You’re an over entitled, rich piece of shit, you know that?  You fucking clean it.”

Suddenly, the whole place goes silent.

And Preston looks bewildered, shocked, because I don’t think anybody has ever talked to him that way...ever.

Then Frank is rushing over to us again, obviously alerted by someone about the situation, and I know our waiters future looks grim.

“Mr...Mr. Harrington?” Frank gasps, and his eyes shift nervously between myself, Pres, and the waiter.  “What seems to be the problem?”

Preston stands up, brushes himself off slightly, and gives Frank and enraged look.  “I’ll tell you what the problem is! Your waiter knocks over my glass of wine, and THEN he calls me a piece of shit! What the hell kind of place is this turning into....”

He keeps rambling, and I just sit there, taking it all in just like everybody else in the dining room.  Occasionally, my gaze will land on the poor waiter.  He’s standing against the wall, wine bottle in hand, rolling his eyes...just waiting for the inevitable.

“...And I want him fired!” Preston yells.  

“Mr. Harrington, I’m deeply sorry...so deeply sorry.  We’ll comp everything, of course, and I will handle this matter personally.”  Frank glares at our waiter.

He swallows hard.  

“Preston let’s just go,” I say, tugging on my fiances hand, hoping he’ll listen to me and leave before he can cause anymore disruption.  “Please?”

He seems to snap out of his rage and finally looks at me, sighing a little, before giving my hand a squeeze.  “Fine.”

I pull him away by the hand, catching Frank’s voice as the doors are opened for us.  He’s angry, didn’t bother to take his employee behind closed doors to crucify him.

“You’re fired, Justin!”

My heart sinks, but I don’t look back, and when we get outside, it takes everything inside of me not to start screaming at my fiance before the valet arrives with his car.

“What the hell, Preston!”  

He gets in on the drivers side, and the valet closes the door for him.  “What the hell? What do you mean? Did you hear what he called me?”

“You provoked him.”  

“He’s vermin.  He’ll find another job scrubbing the scum out of a public toilet, and that’s where he belongs.  Honestly, I’m appalled that Frank would stoop that low and hire somebody like that.  I can’t wait to tell Dad...”

He continues to ramble on about it all, and just I cross my arms and look out the window.  Oddly enough, I’m just in time to see that same young waiter, being thrown out of the restaurant by a couple of burly looking kitchen staff members.  He yells at them, and they push him forcefully away from them, almost into the street, before going back inside.

“That’s the last time I fucking go there,” I hear Preston say.

I don’t even say anything.  I can’t.  The only thing I can do is stare at that poor guy, as he sits down on the sidewalk and puts his head in his hands, like the whole world has just collapsed around him.

And I feel so responsible for everything that’s just happened.  I mean, it’s not his fault.  He’s not timid, his pride got in the way, even thought it wasn’t supposed to.  But if Preston hadn’t pulled his stupid shit, that guy would still have a job, and I’m sure he needs it.  Part of me wishes I could get out of the car, go beg Frank to let the guy have his job back.

But the other part, the part that is loyal to Preston and our lifestyle won’t allow it, and as my fiances drives us further and further away from the restaurant and the rest of downtown Hollywood, I know the young waiter’s misfortune is something I’ll have to live with, and try to forget about, somehow.  I should probably get used these episodes though, because this is what comes with marrying Preston Harrington.  His hobby is making people feel smaller than him, weaker than him.

And that will never change.