Chapter 15
CASSIDY
Lala claps her hands twice, sharp and efficient. “All right, girls. Quick huddle before the doors open tonight.”
We gather near the bar, chatter all around us.
It isn’t often that I’ve attended staff meetings where any of the girls from the upper floors are in attendance along with the usual suspects: Brier, Fern, and Candice.
You can tell the girls from upstairs from any new main floor servers because they look like they stepped out of a perfume or fine jewelry ad.
Brier clocks them instantly, lips pursing as she pretends to study a tray of appetizers on skewers.
“So,” Lala continues, “the big seventies-themed party is quickly approaching, and we’re fine-tuning the details. We’re leaning hard into disco, obviously. For the music, think the Bee Gees, Gloria Gaynor, KC and the Sunshine Band, and Earth, Wind & Fire.”
“And Donna Summer!” Fern yells.
“Yes, I can get my groove on to Love to Love You, Baby!” Candice gasps. “But I swear if someone doesn’t play Stayin’ Alive at least once, I’m picketing this party on principle.”
Lala simultaneously rolls her eyes and extends her arm toward the bar covered in appetizer samplings. “I told the chef to reinterpret the decade,” Lala says proudly. “I’m hoping they’ve nailed a modern spin on classic seventies dishes that will evoke nostalgic vibes.”
Fern already has something on a toothpick. “What’s this one?” She bites into it, eyes widening. “Oh, my god. Is this… General Tso’s chicken? But fancy?”
“I don’t know about this fancy food. I tried something with aioli on it once.
It just tasted like fancy mayonnaise to me.
If it don’t come with rolls, sweet tea, and some kinda potato, I’m not interested.
” Candice picks up a small serving cup and takes a cautious sniff before spooning it into her mouth.
“Oh, it’s a Manwich in a cup.” She grins.
Clearly, this is something she’s familiar with.
“Thanks for the warning. It’s as if the chef knew you were here,” Brier groans.
I try something that looks suspiciously like a cocktail meatball and hum in surprise. “Wow. This is actually amazing.”
Brier takes a cautious nibble of something wrapped in bacon. “Devils on… something?”
“Horseback,” Candice says around a mouthful. “Which is also what I will be doing later, if the night goes right.” She winks.
Brier grimaces. “Why does everything you say sound like a threat?”
A few of the women from the upper floors step up to the bar, each taking an appetizer and nibbling on the edge of it.
“Do they actually eat?” Fern whispers.
“Yes. But they probably get full after eating a water cracker,” Brier grouses.
Fern turns to face her. “You’re as thin as they are. Do you get full after a cracker?”
The corner of Brier’s mouth curls in a poorly suppressed grin. The compliment clearly made its mark. “No. This girl loves to eat. I just have to spend more time in the gym afterwards.” Her honesty is actually a bit surprising.
Lala giggles, pulling out a few drawings of different outfits. Of course, they’re cut so short they don’t look like they’ll cover all of our important bits. But the dresses vary in cut and shape. Each paired with tall white boots.
“Aww, no jumpsuit,” Candice whines.
“Probably for the best, doll. They’re hard to get in and out of quickly if you have to run to the little girls’ room. It’s why I stopped letting my little brother, Caleb, wear overalls. He kept having accidents in the time it took to get them off.”
I can’t help but laugh. “How is your little brother, Fern? I felt terrible thinking about him home all alone the other day.” My mind immediately went to all of the child neglect and abuse cases I recall during my time at the academy.
I surprised myself by how well I handled most of the world’s worst-behaved humans.
But I have to admit, any injustice toward a child stuck with me for long after the case was closed.
“Oh, he’s fine. He’s a handful, but he’s fine. After my mom died, I couldn’t bear the thought of him moving in with my Aunt Josephine in Arkansas. My mom had me so young, that once she married my deadbeat stepdad and had Caleb, there was a huge age difference between us.”
I take a bite of something yummy that makes me think of a gourmet cheese ball. “How old are you, Fern?” She’s sweet, but doesn’t seem the academic type. Between this, her southern quips, and her friendship with Candice, I may have underestimated her age.
“I’m twenty-one.”
“Wow, fourteen years is a big age difference. He lives with you?”
Fern shrugs, her face morphing at the question.
The stress of raising her little brother has clearly taken its toll.
“Yes. It’s not easy with the long hours here.
But I have a few college girls in the neighborhood who stay at the house when I’m working.
And Louisa next door helped out occasionally, but I don’t know that I can count on her with her health the way it is.
Her diabetes was out of control the last time she watched him. ”
Reaching for her hand, I give it a squeeze. “Fern, that’s incredible. That you’re juggling everything to keep him here with you.”
“Nah. You’d do it for your brother, right? It’s just what you do for the people you love.”
My mind instantly goes to Holt and how much he’s done for me. She’s right. “Well, if you’re ever in a bind and I’m off, I’m happy to help.”
“Wow. Really? Thank you, Cassidy. That means a lot to me.”
“Well, considering you two pretty much work the same shifts, it was a safe offer to make,” Brier tosses out. Her sarcasm on full display.
“Don’t pay any attention to her,” Lala soothes, urging me down the bar to where it’s more private. We pass Candice, who’s trying to scoop pasta onto a cocktail napkin, and Lala groans. “Lord, help that girl. She’s so slow, it would take her two hours to watch 60 Minutes.”
I snort.
She glances at me more seriously. “Hey. You okay?”
I glance at her in confusion.
“After last night, I mean.”
“Oh.” I stiffen. “Yeah. I’m fine. It was just a rough evening.”
Her eyes soften. “I couldn’t hear much, but I could tell there was tension between you and Max. Was he inappropriate with you? Because friend of Gianni’s or not, that won’t fly.”
“No!” I blurt. My shoulders slump. “It wasn’t him. It was me.” I don’t elaborate. I can’t. I mean, what could I possibly share? I’m in enough trouble. I don’t need to throw myself under the bus. So instead, I pivot. “What do you actually know about Max?”
Lala pops an appetizer in her mouth before patting her lower lip with her finger.
“Not much. He’s cute. Always very polite.
He’s quite aloof, never asking personal questions of any of the girls.
From my recollection, he’s always been very private.
” She reaches for a cocktail napkin and dabs the corner of her mouth. “He never brings anyone here.”
“Not even a friend?”
“Nope. Not a female one, anyway. Just that loud guy, Frank. He’s a bit rough around the edges. Like someone else I know.” Lala scrunches her face as she looks in Candice’s direction, “but the guy seems harmless. Max dances with the women here sometimes, but nothing like Mr. Sly or Dr. Ryan.”
Brier must overhear us while inspecting a row of tiny appetizers. “Yeah, the irony. Lifelong bachelors who dance like they’re trying to impregnate someone through their Hugo Boss suit pants.”
When she walks off, I lower my voice. “Maybe he keeps his fun on the upper floors.”
Lala shrugs. “Maybe. But I’ve never heard rumors. And most of them seem to make it my direction, one way or another.” She snickers. “He might go up to watch.”
I blink. “Watch?”
She giggles at my shock. “Voyeur rooms. Devon Sly practically has a season pass.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Oh.”
“But Max?” she adds. “If that’s his thing, he’s discreet. Honestly, I think he just likes being here with his friends. If he gets his physical needs met through Gianni’s organization, it likely happens at The Rox. It’s far more discreet.”
“Does Gianni go there?” I whisper.
Her face falls. “I doubt it. He probably has a whole separate place for that kind of thing that I don’t know about.”
I can’t help but take in her expression.
It mimics the way I feel when I consider Max entertaining women.
I have no right to have an opinion on the subject.
He’s a rich, attractive, red-blooded man who I’m sure has a healthy sexual appetite.
The thought causes my cheeks to heat. Yet his relationships are no more my business than Lala’s boss’s are to her.
Candice drifts by, tucking a second meatball inside her mouth, causing her face to resemble a chipmunk. “I still think he could be gay.”
I can’t help but roll my eyes at her comment. While I can’t possibly know for certain, there isn’t an ounce of me that thinks he only has eyes for men.
Brier stares at Candice and wrinkles her nose. “Why does that bring the mental image of something else in her mouth?”
Lala laughs, but the humor is lost on me. I’m too distracted. My earlier thoughts linger. Had I imagined everything? Max’s eyes on mine? The spark in the air between us? Maybe he was merely investigating the new girl. I mean, his mind probably works like mine does. It’s hard to turn it off.
My body warms, and I close my eyes, unsure if it’s the Baked Alaska or my own stupid thoughts of him doing this to me. Until I feel that telltale current in the air. That subtle awareness, like the room just tilted.
A deep voice tickles the shell of my ear from behind me. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but can I have a word, Cassidy?”