Don’t Bet On It

1. One

ONE

M y temper had always been my undoing. I, Tallulah Hayes, was like the Hulk without the green skin and rippling muscles when I was angry.

Yeah, you wouldn’t like me when I was angry.

Some individuals were people pleasers. Not me. When I saw injustice—whether it was happening to somebody else or me—I acted.

That was how I got into today’s predicament, which involved me sitting across from my boss, Carlton Clemons, trying to pretend that I wasn’t disheveled, that my dark hair wasn’t sticking up at odd angles, and that my knuckles weren’t bruised from plowing my fist into my coworker’s face.

It wasn’t an easy look to pull off, but I was giving it my all.

“Jay says that you punched him.” Carlton looked more tired than annoyed, as if he wanted to be dealing with something—anything would do—else.

I kept my face impassive. “I guess that’s true,” I hedged.

“We have a zero tolerance violence policy here at the Purple Orchid.” He was stern. “You know that. We talked about it when you were hired.”

I was well aware of the policy. Unfortunately for Carlton, I was well aware of all the policies. “You have a zero tolerance sexual harassment policy too,” I reminded him.

He arched an eyebrow. “Are you accusing me?—”

I cut him off with a firm shake of my head. He was misunderstanding. “I’m not accusing you of anything. Jay, however, is another story.”

Jay Fletcher had been the bane of my existence since he started at Purple Orchid three months before.

He was younger than me by a good eight years.

I was thirty-one, cruising toward thirty-two, although I’d kind of decided that maybe I should stick at thirty-one and just give up on birthdays.

Jay was twenty-three, although he acted fifteen.

The age difference hadn’t stopped him from hitting on me. Constantly.

“You’re saying Jay sexually harassed you?

” Carlton’s forehead creased. He had hair that had once been black but was shot through with so much white that it now looked gray.

He was only in his fifties—something he’d made sure to tell me when I interviewed eight months before, which was when he’d also dropped the fact that he was working his way through divorce number four—but he looked much older.

The Las Vegas dry air was murder if you didn’t moisturize religiously.

“That’s what I’m saying,” I confirmed, keeping my hands in my lap so I wouldn’t start gesturing wildly. That was another of my issues. When I got going, I went big, and there was no stopping me.

“Can you give me some specifics?” He sounded as if he were gathering tidbits for when he wanted to commit me. His tone told me he didn’t believe me. Well, I was going to tell him anyway.

“It started on his first shift,” I replied. “He commented on how it would be better if you gave us shorter shorts to work in as part of our uniform. Only the females of course. He thought people might want a good view for when the female staff bent over.”

Carlton’s expression remained impassive. “How is that sexually harassing you?”

Was he kidding me right now? “He said that I would be a great draw if I spent all my time bending over. He would repeatedly drop straw wrappers in front of younger men and then get them to applaud.”

“That sounds flattering to me.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Well, it’s sexual harassment.”

“Sexual harassment is unwanted touching. Did he touch you?”

“Yes, that’s why he got punched.”

Carlton straightened. “Where did he touch you?”

Did that matter? The frustration I’d thought contained after I’d popped Jay in his stupid face started bubbling up again. “On my back.”

“On your butt?”

“I said my back. It was lower, though. It was … suggestive.” That was the only word I could think to describe how it had gone down. “Jay came up behind me when I was waiting on customers. They were men. They were younger than twenty-five, and they were flirting.”

“So you’re saying the customers sexually harassed you.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

He barreled forward as if he hadn’t heard me. “While I find it deplorable that customers sexually harass workers, there’s nothing I can do about it. You know that. You just have to grin and bear it.”

Grin and bear it? This guy was only in his fifties and acted like a crotchety neighbor who was willing to shoot people to get them off his lawn and thought respect for women was something newfangled that shouldn’t actually exist.

“Listen,” I gritted out, my temper getting the better of me.

“No, you listen.” Carlton’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “You cannot ruin a man’s life—a sexual harassment complaint would follow Jay up and down the Strip for years—because he put his hand on your back.”

“He was being obnoxious!” I exclaimed.

“Are you saying you’re never obnoxious? Also, that’s subjective. Whenever I’ve interacted with the boy, he’s been nothing but charming. He has a bright future in front of him, if you ask me. He’s working his way through a business degree. He has his eyes on something big down the line.”

And I didn’t. That was what he was saying.

I was thirty-one and still working as a server on the Strip.

I’d been moving between businesses for years at this point.

People deemed me “unambitious” and stuck me in the lowest jobs they could find, figuring I would swallow my pride because I had bills to pay.

And that was true. I did have bills to pay.

I wasn’t going to put up with being disrespected to pay those bills, however.

“So, basically you’re saying that you don’t believe me and you’re going to side with Jay,” I surmised.

Carlton shrugged. “You have no proof.”

“How am I supposed to get proof of all the gross stuff he’s said to me over the past few months?” I demanded, my temper threatening to break loose like a herd of bulls. “Should I carry my phone with me everywhere and record him?”

“Certainly not,” Carlton replied. “It’s illegal to record somebody without their knowledge. Did you learn nothing from that whole President Clinton debacle?”

I had no idea what he was talking about.

I didn’t care to know about it either. “What’s my punishment?

” I demanded, resigned to my fate. Would he screw with my hours?

Would he cut them? Would he suspend me for a week and make it impossible for me to pay my rent?

There were so many options to choose from.

“You’re not being punished.”

Hope flooded my chest. Maybe Carlton wasn’t as bad as I believed. Maybe he knew Jay was guilty but there really was nothing he could do about it. Maybe he valued my contribution to the business so much he was going to make it work.

“I believe it’s best for you to find employment elsewhere,” Carlton continued, causing me to deflate like a balloon. “As much as we appreciate your contribution to the company over the past two months?—”

“Eight months,” I barked. “I’ve been working here for eight months, and I left a good job to come here in the first place.”

“Really?” Confusion knitted Carlton’s eyebrows. “I didn’t realize it had been that long.”

This time, there was no hope to be found. It was over. We both knew it.

“Either way, your presence at Purple Orchid is no longer required,” he said. “I’ll issue you a check for two weeks of severance. You’ll probably not want to use us for a reference.” He smiled as if he’d delivered good news. “Have a nice day.”

I stared at him for what felt like a really long time but was probably only two or three seconds. It felt like a lifetime, however.

Then I completely lost my temper and punched him too. Internally, I scolded myself. I should’ve waited until after he cut the severance check.

Oh, well, it was too late now. I made sure to put my full weight into the punch. He had it coming.

“YOU PUNCHED HIM?”

My best friend, Olivia Stone, cringed, her shoulders dropping.

She was tucked in tight against her husband Zach’s side at a Stone Casino & Resort bar.

It was one of his sports bars—I could never keep track of them so couldn’t remember this one’s name—and there were raucous frat boys cheering basketball and hockey games on the televisions near the bar.

Zach had secured a private booth for us in the corner. It was still loud.

I shrugged in response. “He had it coming.” I took a long swig of my drink, one of those fifteen-dollar ones I couldn’t afford, but Zach had already made it clear he was picking up the tab this evening.

He had a craft beer in front of him but was drinking it slowly. Olivia was drinking a green tea. She was four months pregnant—and glowing—which meant that too much caffeine and any alcohol were off the table. That was too bad because I could’ve really used a drinking buddy tonight.

I was happy for her. She had gotten everything she’d ever wanted, including a husband who adored her and an opulent lifestyle where she didn’t have to worry about being homeless from month to month.

She’d been just like me at one time, though.

In fact, she’d been “downsized” from her accounting job right before she and Zach got married.

In truth, she’d discovered the owner’s son had been embezzling money and had been fired for it right before she needed expensive dental work that she couldn’t pay for without insurance.

She’d been looking down the barrel of a very scary future … and then Zach had swooped in.

He’d been best friends with Olivia’s brother Rex since they were kids.

Rex had suggested a marriage of convenience.

Zach needed his father to get off his back about dating the “right” kind of women, and Olivia needed a place to stay and dental surgery.

Zach married her, put her on his insurance, and moved her into his casino penthouse.

It was supposed to be a yearlong thing. They had, of course, fallen in love.

Now, it was going to be a forever thing.