Chapter 2
I didn’t like the waitressing business. Never had. I’d fallen into it like every other job in my life. If you asked my grandmother, I had no direction. In her books, I was worse than a murderer, because I had talent. I was intelligent, and under my frumpy hair and baggy eyes, I was almost pretty. But I never did anything with my potential. I wasted it. Squandered it.
As she’d once told me to my face, in her books, ignoring your abilities was as bad as killing a man.
Rubbing my sleepy eyes, I listened to the train’s PA announce the next stop.
Sighing into my hand as I yawned, I got up and followed the other commuters off onto the station.
Even down here it was fiendishly cold. Despite the fact it was midsummer, and it should have been a warm, balmy night, I felt a tight shiver press down my back. I shrugged further into my thick winter jacket, just as I noted that the other commuters were in shirts, skirts, and shorts. They hardly looked like they were about to face a blizzard. But me? I couldn’t chase away the sudden sense of cold that had descended over me in a wave.
Clenching my teeth and listening to them chatter in my skull, I headed up onto the street beyond. Immediately, I glanced up and stared at the clouds gathering along the horizon.
“Christ, those look like storm clouds,” I muttered to myself as I huddled further under my jacket.
A cold blast of wind slammed into my back, chasing the loose ends of my hair over my shoulders.
Despite the fact the street was packed, no one else appeared affected by the gale. Which was just my luck – even the weather was out to get me.
After a few city blocks, I made it to the right place. Dragging my phone out of my pocket, about as chipper as a prisoner about to be sent to the gallows, I checked the address Larry had texted to me.
“Yep, this is it,” I said under my breath.
I took a few seconds to drink in how expensive the building looked. It was one of those new towers that had replaced one of the inner city parks. Weirdly, though I’d lived in Saint Helios my whole life, I didn’t remember this particular building.
It seemed… kinda weird for some reason. Almost like it was a cardboard cut-out someone had propped up on the horizon. Kinda like if I turned back and blinked, the building would disappear completely….
As I tilted my head back and took in its enormity, it looked as if it had cost more than the GDP of a small country. As someone who always had to scrounge to get by, that pissed me off.
Before I headed around back to the service entrance, I smoothed a smile over my face. I even checked my reflection in the shiny door as I entered the kitchen. Larry, who was always up in my face when I turned up for work, was nowhere to be seen.
Instead, Stacy appeared, holding a bundle of clothes. “Hey, kid. You’re late.”
“Sure am. Where’s the codger? Off robbing old ladies?” I quipped as I looked over my shoulder in case he was somehow hiding in one of the giant industrial ovens.
“Haven’t seen him,” Stacy said as she handed me the clothes. “Now change into this uniform; we’re already running pretty late.”
I frowned obviously, gesturing to my black skirt and shirt with a brush of my hand. “I’m already wearing a uniform.”
“Not good enough.” Stacy shrugged and handed me the new uniform. “This is a high-class gig.” She gestured to the expensive kitchen equipment behind us. “I’m surprised Larry isn’t making us wear evening gowns.”
I snorted. “That, or lingerie,” I quipped as I spied a bathroom sign and hustled over, tugging my jacket off before I’d made it into one of the female stalls.
I heard Stacey walk into the room behind me. “Larry’s going ballistic about this one. Got a long list of dos and don’ts. He made me personally promise to remind you to look presentable. Seriously, he’s crazier than usual.”
I’d left the door to my stall ajar, and Stacey nudged it further open. She handed me a cute, little makeup bag.
“I’ve already got plenty on,” I said as I wriggled into an extremely well-fitting skirt and blouse.
“It’s not enough. Larry wants everybody looking our best. And Larry…” she trailed off.
I frowned, finally managing to wrestle the blouse over my bust. “Larry is what?” I nudged the door open with my knee and faced Stacy as I zipped my skirt up and buttoned my top. “He was weird on the phone,” I pointed out as I grabbed Stacy’s makeup bag and rifled through it for a shade of lipstick that didn’t belong on a news anchorwoman from the 90s. Clutching a suitably soft pink, I darted over to the large mirror behind the sink and started to apply the lipstick with a quick hand.
Stacy frowned as she turned around and jumped onto the counter. She sat there, swinging her legs, looking decidedly un-Stacy as she continued to consider me with a concerned look. “Something’s not right with him. I mean, I know we’re always saying that, but seriously… I’ve never seen him like this.”
I smudged my lipstick, hand ticking to the side as a sudden burst of nerves pounded through my gut.
While I thought, deep down, that Larry was a good guy. The cops might not agree. I’d heard enough around town to know he wasn’t always an upstanding businessman.
I frowned at Stacy as I grabbed some mascara and started applying way too much until my eyes looked like they were framed by spider legs. “What do you mean? Where is he, anyway? He should have been at the door, chiding me for being late.”
Stacy shrugged. “I saw him when I got here. But I haven’t seen him since. Camille from the kitchen staff said she saw him darting off into a taxi an hour ago after he had a conversation with a god.”
I arched an eyebrow. No, I didn’t think Stacey actually thought old Larry McGregor of Fabulous Catering Services had nicked off in a taxi after a meeting with the divine.
One look at the way Stacey was biting her lips told me the only godly thing about the guy Larry had talked to would be his butt. Or his abs. Or his chest – Stacey was never picky.
“What guy was he talking to?” I clicked the lid on the mascara and shoved it back into Stacey’s makeup purse.
She took an entirely unnecessary breath as if she had plans on swooning into the sink. “Franklin Saunders. This party is his. I heard from the other waitresses that he has just rented out this entire tower. You know who he is, right?”
Yeah, sure – I knew Franklin Saunders. Anyone who stepped foot in Saint Helios City soon met the guy. And no, he didn’t walk up to you and personally introduce himself – he was just everywhere. From the gossip rags to newspapers, you couldn’t move without news of Mr Saunders. The city’s number one philanthropic, rich, handsome bachelor. The media couldn’t get enough of him, and nor could any red-blooded female.
Franklin was the kind of perfect you didn’t actually see in real life. Though I’d never met him personally, by all accounts, he looked like a Greek statue come to life. Airbrushed, muscled, and crammed into a fine Kashmir suit, Gucci loafers, and a Cartier platinum watch.
“It’s like the guy’s been carved out of hotness or something.” Stacey fanned herself.
I ignored her textbook, girlie move and scratched at my neck.
What was going on here? When Larry had said he would rather owe me than Franklin Saunders, had it been more than a throwaway comment?
“Anyhow, when you’re finished here, we need you on the floor. Drinks are about to start.” Stacy jumped off the bench, pivoted, checked her lipstick, and waved as she walked through the door.
She left me there, frowning at my own reflection.
My phone vibrated with a message, the sound so unexpected I had to stifle a yelp.
Groping in my bag, I pulled out my mobile and frowned all the harder when I saw it was my mother. The text was suitably brief. Just three words, in fact: not good enough.
It was a response to my earlier message that I wouldn’t be able to see grandma today.
I sucked in what I hoped would be a calming breath, but it just mad
e me all the more pissed off. Lashing out, I kicked the bench. Though everything in this building was made of steel and polished chrome, I still managed to dent it.
“Shit,” I spat under my breath, dropping down and running a hand over the damage.
A good girl, in my grandmother’s eyes, would promptly turn around and tell management what she’d done. Me? I walked away, grabbing Stacey’s makeup bag. Checking my reflection one last time, I left.
I wouldn’t bother replying to my mother’s text until this gig was over. And, hey, by that time, maybe I wouldn’t have to reschedule with my Nona – maybe she would be dead.
I winced at the thought. There were some lines even I wouldn’t cross.
Or at least, so I told myself.