Chapter 5
Talon
Aweek later, I’m tasked with shadowing one of the servers. Hayden is very nice, but he makes serving overly complicated. I mentally check out forty-five minutes into the shift, my mind immediately wandering outside to the host stand.
I can’t help but wonder if Zeke’s warm enough.
Is he hungry? Do his eyes still look tired?
I’ve been here for three hours, and he hasn’t come inside once.
The problem with having high empathy for others is that it’s often hard to enjoy myself or be fully present if I suspect a need isn’t being met.
And something tells me Zeke has several needs that fit the unfulfilled category.
By the time it’s my turn for a break, I head straight for the coffeepot in the kitchen, pour two to-go cups of the piping hot liquid, taking care to doctor one up with two creams and one sugar, and head outside.
The wind is whipping wickedly today, which seems to be the norm this season.
“Delivery!” I yell over the wind, holding the cup out.
His eyes flash with gratitude before he feigns annoyance.
“Talon, I appreciate it, but you don’t have to bring me coffee every day,” he says, raising the cup to his lips.
I keep my smile to myself. His words say ‘don’t,’ but the way he’s gripping the cup tells me he’s dying for someone to care.
“How’s the play coming along?”
His eyes widen in surprise as though he didn’t expect me to remember.
“Um, good. Really good. It’s my first leading role, so that’s really cool.” His answer feels honest, but he’s still holding back.
“So, what about it is bothering you?” I ask, hoping he’ll talk through it with me. Perhaps this is what’s had him so tense and stressed recently.
His eyes snap to mine, and he huffs a laugh. “That obvious, huh?”
“To someone paying attention,” I clarify.
A group of four steps to his host stand, and I’m annoyed when Zeke has to check them in. We were just getting somewhere.
When he finishes, he takes another sip of coffee, and I try to get him back on track before my break is over.
“You were saying?” I prompt.
“It’s nothing, really. I’m just bummed because I have to share the role with my understudy because I can’t be off work that many nights in a row.”
“Who told you that?” I ask immediately, ready to approve whatever time off request he made.
“Oh, uh, no one here. I just can’t afford to miss that much work. The play runs for two weeks, and I need the paycheck.”
His passion for theater shines through whatever is weighing him down, but unease and sadness still linger.
“When is opening night?” I ask.
I’d really love to see Zeke in his element. I wonder if he’s confident on stage or if his guarded demeanor dictates which roles he takes on. Perhaps the stage is the only time he feels comfortable being his authentic self, whatever that may be. Like hiding in plain sight.
“Aren’t you supposed to be serving today?” he asks instead of answering me.
“I am. They give us these things called breaks, which I notice you never take,” I tease, nudging his shoulder with mine, careful not to make him spill his coffee.
“The day passes quicker if I stay busy,” he says.
“Right. Because the long line you have now must really make the time fly.”
We both look at the empty space in front of his host stand, and to my utter delight, Zeke laughs. An actual laugh. It’s over almost as fast as it began, but it happened, and it feels like a big deal.
“Smartass,” he says, unable to hide his smile.
“So…opening night?” I ask again.
Before he can answer, the door to the restaurant swings open, and Hayden sticks his head out.
“There you are! You about ready to get back to work?” he calls.
“Be right there!” I yell, wanting to linger here in the blustery cold just a little longer. “Please,” I say with a laugh. “For the love of God, tell me when opening night is.”
“January eighth.” His brows furrow as he says it, like he couldn’t possibly fathom why I want to know even after divulging that I love theater.
I grin widely at finally receiving an answer. “Thank you. Enjoy your coffee!” I yell, jogging toward the doors, my day much improved.
The good mood lasted until I got home around six.
I was just enjoying a glass of red wine when my phone rings.
“Hey, Luke!” I say, glad to hear my brother’s voice. We catch up for ten minutes—until he can’t take it any longer and divulges the reason he’s calling.
“So, you remember Annie’s friend group I was telling you about?”
I bite back my groan, but take a large gulp of wine.
“Mmhmm,” I hum.
“Well, I talked to Lalani first, told her about you and what you’re looking for, and she said she’d love to get together sometime.”
So many emotions filter through me. I’m grateful that my brother wants to help, I really am, but I’m just not so sure another high-society debutante is what I want.
I don’t really know what I want other than a partner who loves me for me.
And, while I guess that would be easier if she came from a wealthy family, I also think that’s the part that turns me off the most. Dahlia was also used to having money, as was Tabitha before her, and Sonja-Lee before her.
It never feels like they truly appreciate anything. Including me.
Once you reach a certain net worth, everything becomes replaceable.
“Luke, I appreciate it, but I’d really like to find someone organically. I’ve only been out here a couple of weeks,” I say with a laugh. “There’s still hope.”
“You’re going to do long distance? What happens when you move back home?
Besides, I know what rebranding is like.
You’re going to be working sixteen-hour days for the next five months, meaning your only chance to meet someone is at the resort, and we both know our parents would have your head if that happened. ”
It’s true, but not because they think our employees are beneath us; it’s just part of their business practices.
Those lines are never to be blurred because once you make it known you’re willing to cross them, you open yourself up to office rivalries, inappropriate flirting, and other distractions.
Thankfully, those of us at the top are all related, and my direct team are all happily married with families of their own and a deep respect and understanding of the rules.
Outside of them, I typically don’t interact with many employees on a daily basis.
“Just agree to meet her next time you’re home. I’ll send you her number, and you can reach out. I really think you’ll hit it off,” Luke pleads.
Wanting to get back to my wine and the riveting financials of Ricochet Ridge, I reluctantly agree just to get Lukas off my back. I love my brother so much, and I know he wants me to find what he has with Annie, but it’s still embarrassing having your brother set you up at thirty-two years-old.
“Fine. Send me the number,” I tell Lukas, knowing I’ll most likely never use it.
When Lukas and I end the call, I wrap up my work for the evening, my mind too distracted to focus on the numbers and reports I’m seeing, although I continue thinking about money.
How much damage it can do.
How much good it can do.
How people often change depending on whether they have it.
And the dangerous things people will do to get it.