5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Natalie
D anielle dumps her bag on the table as she collapses on the empty chair, sighing loudly.
“Do you know how crazy it is to work for a boss who thinks that he owns your time?” She complains as she smoothes her hair. “I swear, one of these days, I’ll walk into his office and hand in my resignation letter.”
“What are you going to do, then?” I ask, pushing my smoothie across the table. “You’ve talked about quitting several times, but you’ve talked yourself out of it each time because you don’t have an after plan.”
She makes a point of slurping down a smoothie through the straw, and I lean back, arms crossed, as I wait for her to be done.
“I don’t know,” she sighs as her shoulders slump. I glance at my smoothie, shaking my head when I see the empty glass. “Maybe I’ll take a break. I haven’t used my off days yet,” Danielle grins. “But that’s beside the point. Why did you want to meet again?”
My eyes squint as I tilt my head. “It was your idea to meet up.”
“Oh really?” Danielle purses her lips. “I must’ve forgotten. I just went along with it when you asked me why I wasn’t here yet. Anyways,” she waves her hand, “there’s that. What about you? What’s been going on lately?”
Nothing.
It’s been a month since the job with the Cross cousins, and I took a birthday gig after that, but I’ve been busy remodeling some parts of my apartment and sorting out my finances.
Well… not nothing. I do have something on my mind, but I’m not sure if I want to share it with Danielle. Unfortunately, she sees the hesitation on my face and leans in suddenly, her eyes wide with unrestrained curiosity.
“Tell me,” she whispers. “What is it? Did Anthony Cross ask you on a date? Did you run into a handsome, charming, and wealthy man at your last job?”
“It was a kid’s birthday party,” I correct her with an eye roll.
She shrugs, unfazed. “Who says parents don’t attend these things? And there’s something called single parents, you know.”
“I do know, Danielle,” I say. She gives me a look and gestures with her hand like— alright then, spill. I sigh.
I’ve been thinking about it for days since I got the offer, and I have no one else to talk to, so I might as well risk the fallout. “Anthony Cross reached out to me a week ago. He said he needed me to work another gig, but a catering one this time. I said yes, but I’m not—”
“Yes, yes, and yes,” Danielle interrupts before I can finish. "You’re going to agree, and then I’ll convince my boss to…” She pauses and squints. “When’s the ev ent again?”
“Two days from today,” I reply.
“Shoot,” she says as her enthusiasm deflates. She taps her chin, slipping into her world while I sit silently, surrounded by the low chatter from other diners. “I don’t know if he’ll be willing to let me go on such short notice, but I’ll try.”
Then she reaches for her bag. “You know what? I’ll send him a text right now. He’s probably at that bar he frequents every Sunday. Hopefully, he’s had a couple of drinks and is in a less bitchy mood.”
I’m not surprised that Danielle’s a hundred steps ahead of me, but I haven’t told her everything yet. “I’m not sure if I want to do it, though,” I drop the bombshell.
She pauses and shoots me an incredulous glance. “What are you talking about? You just said you told him you’d do it?”
An audible, tired sigh escapes my lips as I drag a hand over my face. “I don’t know, Danielle. I feel like a gig like that is something you do once because you don’t want to screw up again.”
“ Oh .” Her facial expression turns into one of sympathy, and Danielle pouts as she reaches for my hands, holding them across the table. You’re worried,” she says softly. But you shouldn’t be. You’re the best person I know when it comes to giving a five-star performance. Your clients love you because you’re the best.”
I know.
“And I’m confident you’re going to crush it again,” she adds, shaking my hands, probably to ignite the excitement I lack. “I know I’m your best friend, and you think I’ll lie to make you feel better, but trust me when I say that the Cross family loves you. At least Anthony did.”
Danielle wiggles her eyebrows suggestively when I frown, showing my confusion. “I saw him checking you out while you were working hard. He didn’t try to hide it either. ”
I scoff, pulling my hands away. “I doubt that. Anthony Cross behaves like that with everybody. If you think he has something for me, then he probably has something for everybody , too.”
She shakes her head. “Nuh-uh. I know what I saw. I also—” I get a finger to keep me from interrupting, “know that he’s a poster playboy, which is why I’m certain that he was checking you out.”
Based on Danielle’s dating history, I’m inclined to believe her, but I still have my doubts. If Anthony Cross had something else going on, I would’ve noticed from our interactions. He didn’t treat me like a contract staff, but he wasn’t overly touchy, either.
Every time he came around, it felt like an interaction between two friends—one extremely extroverted.
Ethan Cross, on the other hand, is the reason why I’ve spent hours thinking about pulling out of the job. I know it’s last minute, but I couldn’t say no when the offer came because Anthony gave me no room.
He stopped by my office, brought flowers—not roses—and told me that I did a good job, so he needed me again.
And the pay was more than I collected for the small party. It’s more than I’ve ever collected for a single event.
The only problem is that I’m not sure if it’s worth seeing Ethan again.
I told myself that I’d put it behind me—the way he made me feel every time we crossed paths and the fact that I couldn’t get him out of my head.
After the night when I saw him with a torn shirt and bloodied fist, I spent days thinking about that and the scar on his back. Then, the days turned into weeks, and my life returned to normal.
Now—I don’t know .
“You’re overthinking it,” Danielle snaps her fingers in my face. “Think about it like this. You’re going to a high-profile event where you can expand your clientele. Don’t you want money, sugar? Because I know if I had your opportunity, I wouldn’t have to think about it.”
Again, she’s right . Another Cross-related event means better clients. The birthday I planned was someone who was at the intimate party thrown at the house.
This one is larger, more of a black-tie event.
“You know what?” I blink, refocusing on the conversation. “I’ll ask my boss for a day off. A sick day or something. I’ll come with you.”
I’m shaking my head already. “Nah. You don’t need to. It’s fine. I can handle this on my own.”
Danielle clicks her tongue. “No way. I’m going to be your plus one, and I’ll make sure you leave with a beau by your side. It wouldn’t hurt to get one for myself, too,” she adds, her eyes glimmering with mischief.
“I knew it,” I say with mock disappointment, even as a smile curls my lips.
“What can I say? I like good things. Speaking of good things, I’m craving ice cream.” She pushes the chair back and stands. “I’m going to get some for us, then your milkshake and some burgers. Do you want anything else?”
She doesn’t wait for me to respond before leaving, but my appetite is diminished anyway.
In a way, I’m glad Danielle dragged me out of my apartment on the weekend to get ice cream because I might’ve called Anthony with some flimsy excuse and canceled, all because I couldn’t handle seeing a man who doesn’t care that I exist.
That’s what I should do.
Act like Ethan Cross is just another man—one of the nameless people I see and walk past every day. It’s not as if I’m working directly with him… and why should I care about a scar?
“Okay, Natalie,” I say aloud, giving myself a pep talk as I drop my head low. “You are not going to get worked up over the smell of sandalwood. And attraction is normal. It just shows that the person is conventionally attractive.”
“ Who is conventionally attractive?”
I jump when I hear Danielle’s voice, almost getting a whiplash. “Ah,” I scramble for a moment. “Nobody.”
Her eyes narrow as she steps closer, like a predator closing in on its prey. “I don’t believe you,” she sings. “You were talking to yourself, Natalie. I know you. That means there’s someone. Spill.” She plants her hands on the table and leans in, her gaze drilling into mine.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply, my voice a little too high-pitched to sound convincing. “Where is the ice cream?” I change the subject without subtlety.
Danielle’s grin widens, and she straightens up with a shrug. “It’s on its way. But don’t think I’m letting this go. You can’t distract me with desserts, Miss Monroe. I know there’s a story here, and I’m going to find out.”
“Not much of a story to tell,” I say, keeping my tone light and nonchalant though my heart is pounding.
She tilts her head, studying me like she’s trying to crack a code. “You’re blushing.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Tell me,” she insists as she sits down. “Tell me, or I’ll hound you every day until you finally crack, and when I do, I’ll never let it go. If you tell me now, I might be kind.”
Not this time .
If Danielle finds out, I’ll die from mortification. I’ve already experienced it once, walking into Ethan’s bedroom and getting treated like a peeping Tom.
I’d rather keep what’s left of my self-esteem intact.
***
Danielle and I go shopping—her way of cheering me on, when in fact, it’s a prep for attracting the right man—and she picks out a dress I automatically decline.
“Nope,” I shake my head firmly, letting it linger from side to side. “I am not wearing that. I’m going to be working, Dany. I don’t need to be dragging a dress around.”
She dangles it in front of me like bait. It’s a black-and-white dress with tiny straps, a low neckline, and a black-and-white skirt that just flows beautifully. I’ll admit the dress is gorgeous.
But it’s too pretty for the job, and I’m not trying to fit in with a bunch of ultra-wealthy people. Hence, the excuse about length.
“It’s not that long. If you wear this with a pair of stilettos, you wouldn’t even notice the hem.”
“Still no.”
“Come on,” she pouts. “You know it’ll look good on you.”
I fold my arms and turn away, but she skips to my front. “Come on, Natalie. For me?”
I sigh as my arms fall to my side. “It’s too expensive. And the only reason you want me to get it is because you think I’ll get a beau in it. I’m not looking for one.”
She starts to deny it. I arch my brow, and she blows out a breath. “Fine. Do I think you’ll look stunning in this and get the attention of every man in the room or building? Yes. But I also think you deserve beautiful dresses, my love.”
Her voice softens when she says “love,” and Danielle’s genuine love for me shines through.
“Look,” she brings it closer and lines it up like my silhouette before gently turning me around so I’m facing the mirror. “The dress is you. I don’t care if some man thinks you’re hot, and you don’t have to entertain them, either. However, I think it’s a crime if you let it go.”
I mean, how could I possibly say no when she puts it that way?
“Fine,” I give up with a sigh. “I’ll get it.”
She squeals. “Yes! Okay, I’m going to chip in so you don’t feel bad about the cost, but we also have to get you some shoes.”
“Sure,” I shrug, “why not?” We’ve already gotten the dress, so it’ll be a shame not to get shoes that match.
We do some more shopping and then more until the sun goes down, and we’re both exhausted and excited. I’m exhausted , and she’s excited.
As we step out onto the bustling street, Danielle’s phone chimes. She sighs and hands me a shopping bag so she can check it. The moment her eyes scan the screen, her expression drops.
“He said no,” she groans, muttering a string of curses under her breath. “I asked for one day off after spending my entire weekend slaving for him, and he said no.”
“I’m sorry, Dany,” I say softly, trying to offer some comfort.
She turns to me, her bottom lip trembling slightly. “It’s fine. Honestly, I might hand in my resignation tomorrow; who knows? But I won’t be your plus one, so you’re on your own.”
Right.
I had finally warmed up to the idea that having Danielle there would keep me grounded, but now that she’s out, my nerves start creeping in again.
“You’ll be fine,” she reassures me, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “Seriously, you’ve got this.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, though her absence feels heavier than I want to admit.
“I’ve gotta run,” she says, already backing away. “I’ve got a million things to do before tomorrow. I’ll text you if I decide to quit!”
She waves over her head with one hand and darts into the crowd, leaving me standing there with a tight grip on the shopping bags and an even tighter knot in my chest.
I’ve got this.
I’m not a teenager in high school, and I’ve been through several “attractions.” Tomorrow is going to be what it is—just another day on the job.