Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
An hour and a half later, Freya settled on the stool at the end of the bar and gave a tired wave to Maya, the head bartender at the resort’s Orca Moon Lounge.
“Holy shit, lady,” Maya whispered, laying a coaster down in front of her and topping it with a glass of ice water. “I heard what went down at the salon. Are you okay?”
Her chest squeezed, and she fisted her hands to keep the tremble away.
Was she okay? She wasn’t quite sure.
“It was crazy. I’m just relieved no one was seriously hurt.” It could have gone so badly.
“I hear you. Your partner in crime showing?” Maya gestured to the empty seat next to her and shook her head, frowning. “No, that’s not right. Hazel’s more like the bad angel to your good angel.”
Freya chuckled and took a big gulp of water. Maya wasn’t wrong. “Yeah, she’s on her way. She was still chatting with the boss when I snuck out.”
“Speaking of your boss,” Maya said, setting an empty shot glass in front of her.
“Miriam said all the spa ladies get a drink on the house tonight, and that you and Hazel get two for being in the thick of it all. Mir suggested some top-shelf tequila, but I know you like the Jolly Rancher shots. Personally, I’d go with a Washington Apple.
It has a little more kick. What’s your poison tonight? ”
Freya couldn’t help but smile. After everyone’s statements had been taken, and she’d finished Janie’s cut, and Hazel had styled Claire’s hair, Miriam had been their rock.
Having already spoken to the spa’s two front-desk girls, Miriam had pulled her and Hazel aside to reconfirm that they were okay and to reassure them that they’d be given the week off with pay while management got the salon area of the spa back in order.
Miriam had also offered the names of a couple of counselors that the Pacific View Resort would cover the fees of should the staff need to speak with someone in the coming weeks.
Freya was still a bit numb, her emotions still a little too raw for her to really absorb everything, but the gesture—of both the paid time off and the counseling—was kind.
Though it wasn’t surprising since the management group was amazing.
Not something Freya thought she’d ever say about what she’d once considered such a hoity-toity place.
The Pacific View Resort was a world-famous luxury wellness resort and spa.
Hudson Island was shaped like a slightly tilted number seven, and the resort was located on the island’s northwestern tip.
It featured a Michelin three-star restaurant that was also open to the public and had a months-long waiting list. It also had multiple high-end, mindful-dining options for the resort’s guests.
The people who worked at the resort had every opportunity to be as stuck-up and pretentious as some of their guests, but for the most part, the staff—management and ownership included—were honest-to-God good people.
Now what exactly did “mindful dining” entail?
She still wasn’t quite sure, but she supposed it was a swankier way of saying fancy, local farm-to-table, and surprisingly delicious.
And the drinks they served at the Orca Moon Lounge were phenomenal.
Plus, all the mixers were made in-house and were organic, so that had to be a bonus.
All Freya knew was that after the longest, most chaotic day of her adult life, she needed a drink.
She wasn’t the biggest drinker, but she needed something strong to combat her unsteady nerves.
Yes, she still had to drive home, but if she took her time and got a carb-and-protein-heavy dinner, she’d be fine.
Hopefully, food and the company of her colleagues would ease the adrenaline still coursing through her, because the idea of going home to her cozy one-bedroom apartment to stare at her not-quite-decorated walls and overanalyze everything that happened today was awful.
The last thing she wanted was to be alone with her riotous thoughts.
“What’s my poison?” Freya asked, leaning back on her barstool. “I learned a long time ago to never argue with the bartender. I’ll leave it up to you. But please make it strong.” She pressed her lips together. “But not so I can actually taste the alcohol, you know?”
“Oh, I know, Frey.” Maya laughed. “You like your drinks with a kick so long as they taste like candy. Plus, bonus points if there’s a cute little umbrella too. Am I right?”
She tapped the tip of her nose. “Ding, ding, ding.”
Maya worked her magic behind the bar and poured a pretty, electric-blue concoction into a large shot glass.
“Blue-raspberry cotton-candy shot.” Maya cringed as she added a little plastic mermaid to the sugared rim.
“Holy shit, that made my teeth hurt just saying it. You can shoot it, but it’s a good sipper too.
Do you want to order food now or wait for Hazel? ”
“I’ll wait.” Freya took a taste of the pretty shot and grinned. The sugary flavor lingered in her mouth. “That’s delicious. It’s like a blue Jolly Rancher had a love child with some cotton candy.”
“There’s a shit ton of vodka there, my friend.” Maya grinned and then narrowed her eyes. She leaned toward Freya, dropping her voice. “Don’t look now, but you have an incoming guest with his eye on you. Good luck, because he looks like a douche. Wave if you need a rescue.”
Lovely. That’s all she needed.
Employees, when off work, didn’t generally hang out at the resort.
The lone exception was the Orca Moon Lounge.
The only rule was they had to meet the dress code: resort/business casual.
The spa staff had a strict uniform of logoed, upscale black scrubs.
However, it was different for the smaller salon staff, which included four full-time stylists and two part-time makeup artists.
Their uniform was simple. All black and chic.
During work hours, they simply added a logoed salon apron on top.
So basically, whenever she hit the lounge after work, she easily blended in with the resort’s patrons.
Freya plucked the mermaid from the rim of her glass and kicked back the rest of her shot. Her cheeks puckered at the sweet, sugary goodness, and she grinned at her friend as she replaced the mermaid onto the rim. “Can I start waving at you now?”
Maya snorted. “If you’re lucky, Hazel will show and take one for the team. I mean, he’s not bad looking. He’s just got that slightly . . . ick thing going on.” She tapped the bar top in front of Freya before turning to the approaching man. “Good evening. What can I get you to drink?”
“I’ll have a Crown and Coke,” he said, settling into the empty seat next to Freya. “And whatever drink this lovely lady wants.”
Freya inwardly cringed. “Oh, I’m good, thank you.” She took a sip of her water. “I’m actually waiting for a friend.”
“That’s fine. I’ll just keep you company until they arrive. And please, I insist on buying you a drink.”
“Oh, um, okay . . .” He held her gaze until she shot Maya a glance, worried the panic coursing through her was evident on her face. She wasn’t the greatest when men flirted with her. And she was especially awkward when pushy men were the ones doing the flirting. “Lavender lemon drop?”
Maya met her gaze and gave her a reassuring smile. “Half?”
“Yes, please,” she replied, grateful her friend could sense her discomfort.
Half a shot of liquor would be sufficient after the candy vodka bomb she’d just downed.
It would keep the edge off but let her keep her wits about her.
Especially if she had to make small talk with this man.
Not that she was a stranger to small talk, but it had been a long day.
Maya placed their drinks in front of them, and he tapped his glass to hers, giving her a giant grin. “Cheers, gorgeous.”
Her face heated as she took a small sip of her cocktail.
Quickly gathering her thoughts, she set her martini glass down and straightened her shoulders.
Yes, this guy made her feel so damn awkward, but she could fake it with the best of them.
Turning to him, she gave him her most professional smile.
“So how are you enjoying your stay here at the Pacific View Resort?”
Fifteen minutes later, it took everything Freya had to not roll her eyes.
No. Forget rolling her eyes. It took everything she had to not get up, leave the lounge, and go home.
“I’m telling you, gorgeous,” the man seated beside her said, eyeing her in a one-step-away-from-sleezy kind of way. “It’s the next big crypto. I have a knack for this kind of thing.”
She took a sip of her cocktail and deeply regretted allowing him to buy her a drink. She also deeply regretted that Maya was busy at the other end of the bar with four new guests who looked infinitely more fun than the guy beside her.
She stole a glance at the lounge’s entrance and willed Hazel to materialize. Unfortunately, the damn entrance remained stubbornly empty.
Not that Freya was surprised. Punctuality wasn’t at the top of Hazel’s list of priorities, but this was a bit much for her friend. It was only a five-minute walk from the spa building to the lounge—and that was if you were walking at a snail’s pace.
The man droned on, and Freya gripped the stem of her martini glass. It was either that or gouge her own eyes out with said martini glass’s stem.
She was a hairstylist, dammit. Which meant that along with doing hair, she was a professional small talker.
Having worked at the resort for the past year, chatting with people who had more money than God—many of whom lacked humility—was not uncommon.
In fact, she was well versed in it. However, this guy was wearing on her last nerve.
“Did you hear what I said?” Brandon asked.
Or was it Brennen? Bryson? Braxton? Shit.