13. Dumbass
Chapter 13
Dumbass
CALLIE
I just want to go home, climb in bed, and sleep for a week.
Or two days. That’ll have to be enough.
My brain and body were both on empty as I trudged next to the security guard after a chaotic and exhausting night. I didn’t know his name since he’d barely mumbled it, but I was pretty sure it was Bryce or Bryson or maybe just Brian.
I was also pretty sure he thought my name was hey you since that was all he called me—despite my polite attempts to reintroduce myself.
It wouldn’t be so bad if there were a variety of guards, but I almost always got the same guy. And each time, he made it more and more obvious he resented the task.
As we rode down the elevator, he didn’t speak. He barely looked up from his cell. He certainly didn’t take it as seriously as the three hot men who’d scoped out our surroundings.
Like I was protected and wanted and treasured.
I’d only gotten that treatment one time a month prior. After that, I’d ceased to exist to Chef Frédéric, Marco, and Cole.
Technically, the first had to at least acknowledge me since I was an employee, but that was it. No concern. No standing close. Nothing but a distant—physically and otherwise—supervisor.
That was still better than Cole and Marco. On the rare occasions they came into the restaurant, they hardly looked at me. I never thought I’d say it, but being ignored was the preferable response. Because when they did deem to glance my way, it was with suspicion and disgust.
As if any of it was my fault. I hadn’t wanted to move to ES in the first place. And after the honeymoon period had worn off and Abraham’s intentions had become clear, I hadn’t wanted to stay.
Going there was the worst thing that’d happened in my life, and somehow, it continued to ruin it. Because instead of giddily anticipating seeing the men, I dreaded it.
The same was true for seeing Juliet. It’d been abundantly obvious the first time she’d come in after my meeting with her husband that he’d warned her away from me. She still sat at my table—but only due to the positioning. She still tipped well. And she was still nice.
No.
She was polite .
It was different. She no longer treated me like we were catching up. No peppered questions that showed she paid attention to what I said. No funny jokes.
I was just her server, and she was the customer.
It sucked.
The whole situation did, and I couldn’t even blame them. I wouldn’t trust me, either.
That was why I’d already begun the job hunt. Not because I’d done something wrong. I wasn’t admitting deceit or guilt. I certainly wasn’t letting them scare me off. It was for me.
I wanted to leave.
I’d spent four years living somewhere I hated. I wasn’t going to waste more of my life being somewhere that made me miserable.
The guard at my side finally glanced up as the elevator slowed to a stop and the doors opened. When I didn’t move to step out, he made an annoyed noise before finally exiting first. Once we were out in the garage, he actually looked around as he walked me to my car.
“It’s dark in here,” I noted.
Usually, the garage was as well-lit and maintained as the rest of the property. Instead, one side had been plunged into eerie darkness.
Despite the fact he hadn’t responded, I nervously added, “A bunch of lights are out. I wonder if a fuse blew or something.”
I might as well have said nothing. Or admitted I was the secret green alien in the human suit. It wouldn’t have made a difference either way because he wasn’t paying attention to me or the lack of lighting. We were still a couple of cars away from mine when he muttered a disgruntled, “See you tomorrow.”
I didn’t care enough to correct him that I had the day off, which was good because he also didn’t give me the chance. He rushed away.
Wow.
I just repel men like crazy these days.
With a sigh, I reached for my keys to find two problems.
One, I didn’t have them out of my bag.
Because two, I also didn’t have my bag.
I hung my head back and cursed myself. The day. The damn impatient guard. Rather than waiting in the dining room like he usually did, he’d come into the server area to rush me through my side work and out the door.
I was a creature of habit. I followed routines with everything I did. His exasperated sighing, muttering, and outright badgering had thrown me off.
With no choice but to backtrack to Parisian Crescent—and hope it wasn’t a night when Manny had miraculously finished early—I started across the garage.
At least I don’t have to worry about seeing Chef Frédéric, Cole, or Marco.
Ash—the bearded man—was marrying Juliet’s friend, and all three men were attending the wedding. Instead of a night full of rude customers and grumpy guards like I’d had, they were likely having a blast as they celebrated the gorgeous couple.
And they probably did so with equally gorgeous bridesmaids in their arms.
My chest ached at just the thought of what they could be doing, but I pushed it down. It wasn’t my business. And it was stupid to be jealous over men who hated me.
If not hated, then at least indifferent. They happily ignored me like I was nothing.
I needed to get that through my head and stop pining like a pathetic kid with a crush.
As I passed the last car in the row, something wrapped around my torso and yanked me to the side, throwing me completely off balance.
Oomph.
Freddy
It was time to go.
Not that I was overstaying my welcome and making shit weird. It might’ve been late, but the party was in full swing. Other than one of Ash’s sisters—who’d left to get her baby to bed—everyone was still there.
I needed to leave for me. To escape all the damn happiness.
Watching Ash and Mila together was bad enough. They were a reminder of what I couldn’t have.
A pair of light brown eyes looking up into mine with that kind of adoration.
Or a pair of dark brown ones filled with obsession instead of doing their best to avoid glancing at me, even when we were standing under the same damn canopy.
But the real kick to the crotch and my stupid heart was being surrounded by Ash’s family. All that love and acceptance and… family-ness .
His mom fluttered around, making sure everything was just perfect for the newlyweds. Other than making Mila panic with the mention of babies—something clearly already on Ash’s mind—she was sweet.
Not planted at the bar in a martini stupor.
His dad talked, laughed, and jumped up to do anything to help. His pride in his kids and grandkids was so evident, it was a surprise his chest didn’t puff out to bursting. He didn’t take the opportunity while everyone was gathered to list all the ways they’d disappointed him.
To my own bastard father’s credit, though, wasn’t that what funerals were for? Probably not in normal families, but sure as hell in mine.
Seeing the difference was a reminder of what I wouldn’t have.
The impending holidays usually handled that, but I was evidently getting a head start.
Ash’s laugh carried across the canopy, and I looked over to watch as he pulled Mila down onto his lap. His hand rubbed against her ribs. It was a safe bet there were ropes somewhere under her dress. It wasn’t my kink. Neither was the Daddy thing. But I still envied he’d found someone to give him both.
Drink.
That’s what I need.
Another drink or ten, then I’ll leave.
I gave my back to all the cheerfulness and moved to the makeshift bar to fill a glass of scotch until it nearly spilled when I picked it up.
“How’s it going?”
Nosy, observant bastard.
I turned to lift my glass to Marco. “Porté aux mariés.” A toast to the newlyweds before I downed half the drink in one go.
Maybe Mother was right, and a stupor is the way to handle life.
Marco didn’t share that idea. Rather than a stiff drink, he opted for another water bottle.
“Not partaking?”
He scoffed. “Rideshares won’t come all the way up here, and I’d rather sleep by the creek than have to crash inside this house tonight.”
The man made a good point.
I set my own glass to the side and grabbed a water, but Marco plucked it from my hand before I could open it. He jerked his chin to the scotch. “I got you.”
At least someone does.
“Does that mean I don’t have to bust out the chauffeur hat tonight?” Cole asked as he approached with the same beer bottle he’d been nursing most of the night. It had to be piss warm and nasty, but he still carried it around like it was his date.
“I took the Rover,” Marco said. “There’s room for you both, plus Maximo and Juliet if needed.”
We glanced at where they sat with Ash and Mila, Juliet positioned on Maximo’s lap in a similar way. It was the way they always ate unless they were in one of the restaurants. I was pretty sure he would’ve demanded they do it there if it weren’t for the fact it might make him look human. He preferred to be all-powerful to inspire terror in his employees.
Cole spun away with the same urgency I did and switched out his bottle for my discarded glass. He wasn’t a big drinker, but he knocked the whole thing off before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Merde , that shouldn’t be so…
Nope. Not tonight.
He refilled the glass as he spoke. “Based on the way he was looking between Juliet and Ash’s baby niece all night, and the fact his drink is still untouched, I think Maximo has plans that we don’t wanna be part of.”
Marco made a grunt of agreement, and a heavy silence settled over the three of us.
We were thinking about the same person. I had no idea how I knew it, but I did.
Since discovering her connection to Eternal Sun, we hadn’t talked about Callie. Not once. I still had to see her at Parisian Crescent. And I must’ve been a masochist because instead of doing my recipe development in one of the other kitchens or out of Maximo’s house like I used to, I kept going back. Kept torturing myself.
“How’s she doing?”
Surprisingly, the question came from Marco. He didn’t specify who, and Cole didn’t ask for clarification. His expectant gaze shot to me. Like he’d been dying to know the answer, too.
It proved me right. She was on our minds, not just mine.
“She’s fine.” I couldn’t give him any more details because I didn’t have them.
We didn’t speak.
She came to work, did her job, then left.
I missed the rest of it. The shy glances. Her smiles. The way she would flush when I stood close. Back when I had allowed myself to look and imagine making her mine.
But I couldn’t have her.
Or anyone else I wanted.
That wasn’t a long list. Unlike my father, who kept a lengthy Rolodex of mistresses and hookups, I didn’t do no strings. I didn’t have it in me. If I had an itch, I scratched it myself.
Something I’d been doing so often, I was worried I would chafe.
Cooking would always come first. It was what I did when I was happy, pissed, depressed, and everything in between. And no matter how okay with it people claimed to be, it inevitably turned into an issue. I would’ve thought being open with who I dated might give me more options.
I would’ve been wrong.
My head and dick had chosen one man and one woman, and I couldn’t have either of them.
What a fucking disaster.
Marco tipped the closed bottle of water in his hands. If he was going for casual, he’d overshot and landed in awkward. It wasn’t something I saw from the grumpy asshole. “I wonder if she’s been in contact with anyone there.”
“She hasn’t.”
At his immediate and firm answer, my head whipped to look at Cole. “How would you know?”
He shrugged as he set down the empty glass and scowled at it like the liquor was to blame. “A guess.”
Marco called him on the lie. “That was more than a guess.”
“Fine. An educated guess.”
“Educated how ?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It sure as shit does,” I said.
“How so? She’s still a risk. A liability. Off-fucking-limits. If she found out something that Abraham could use?—”
“So we make sure she doesn’t find out,” I said.
“Easier said than done.”
“Not for me.”
The illegal fights and betting.
Threats.
Broken bones.
Worse.
I knew about what they did.
I approved of it.
But that wasn’t part of my job description.
I’d had enough violence to last a lifetime.
Cole scoffed. “Convenient.”
“Not to mention, that’s a lot of ifs. If she learns something. If she tells Abraham. If he’s even interested?—”
“He is. You should’ve seen the light die in his eyes when he realized it was only Ash and me in the car, not Maximo.”
“So he’ll send him promotional shit. He’d have to be an idiot to risk getting on his bad side with cult subterfuge.”
“You don’t get that kind of following without being insane.”
“But you already said she hasn’t been in contact with anyone since she left,” Marco pointed out. “Which I still wanna know how you?—”
“What?”
We turned to see our boss standing behind us, but the question came from his wife.
She tried to pull out of his arms, but when that didn’t work, she settled for turning her angry glare his way.
“Watch yourself, little dove.”
“No.” At the way his own dark eyes narrowed, she didn’t falter. Not even for a second. Grown men would be pissing themselves, but she went toe-to-toe with him. “When you told me to tread carefully around Callie, I thought she was still a member of that creepy place, not that she hasn’t been in contact with anyone since she left.”
“Her parents are current members.”
“And?” She put her hands on her hips. “What happened to not punishing others for the sins of the father?”
He clenched his jaw so hard that a muscle ticked, but his silence was him reluctantly conceding her point.
“I like Callie, and I’ve been treating her like the enemy because I didn’t want to deal with another rat situation.”
Maximo’s lips quirked even as he tried to hide it. “Treating her like the enemy?”
She rolled her eyes before they widened, and I didn’t need to see his hand behind her back to know he’d just roughly grabbed her ass. Her voice was softer when she explained, “Well, I haven’t been chatting with her, and I know it’s bummed her out. Bummed both of us out.”
That did distress him, even when the sight of a dead body at his feet would barely earn a blink.
“Wait.” She scanned across the three of us so we were included in her displeasure. “That also means you’re knowingly being dumbasses. Or you’re simply using this as an excuse to step back to protect your goon bromance, which is still foolish but understandable. But if you’ve been propping up this flimsy connection as a reason to keep your distance from her, I stand by my dumbass comment.”
She’s got our number.
“We were reaching that same conclusion in our slow, stubborn way, chéri,” I shared.
“Freddy,” Maximo bit out in warning—his irritation was the only reason I still used the name with her.
Juliet tilted her head to look at him. “Tell them it’s okay to go for Callie.”
“This isn’t The Godfather . They don’t need my permission.”
“It kind of is, and they kind of do.”
Our boss didn’t look unhappy at that.
And she wasn’t wrong. We all owed Maximo our lives, and not just because he was our boss who overpaid us.
He zeroed in on Cole. “You sure she hasn’t been in touch with anyone?” At his chin lift, Maximo didn’t press for proof or an explanation. We’d all landed on the same conclusion, and since the tech nerd was good at what he did, that was enough. He gave a single nod. “Then play it smart. I don’t want blowback from that place or between the three of you. Otherwise, it’s not our business. We were only coming over to say we’re taking off.”
Juliet shook her head. “Not anymore. I want to know what they plan to do.”
“Another time.”
Her lip popped out.
“I’m already gonna spank your ass for glaring and rolling your eyes. You really want to make it worse, Juliet?”
“Yes. Yes, I do.” And then she pushed her pouty lip out farther before it erupted into a grin when Maximo lifted her into his arms to carry her out.
Leaving us to figure out her question.
What the hell did we plan to do?
“You cyberstalking her?” Marco asked bluntly.
“I wouldn’t phrase it like that.” Cole scrubbed his palm down his face before admitting, “I put spyware on her laptop and phone when she asked me to fix them.”
You nerdy little stalker.
Marco crossed his arms. “Is that shit on mine?”
“No.” I opened my mouth to ask the same, but Cole’s eyes shifted away as he kept going. “She has social media, but her only friends are from Parisian Crescent. She messaged Tess a couple of times before our meeting, but when she got no response, she messaged her a short note that said she was proud and happy for her, and to not feel bad for moving on. She hasn’t sent anything since. That’s more than she’s done with her parents. No messages. No calls. No searches.”
“We do what Maximo said,” I concluded. “We play it safe, but we make our moves.”
And hope she can forgive us for being pricks for a month.
A ding cut through the murmurs of agreement, and Marco pulled his cell from his pocket. His expression grew grim as he scanned it. “We gotta go. Something happened at Moonlight.”