Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
“Come in,” Pete called out from the beat-up table that monopolized the room.
Incidentally, that was the second thing that needed to be tossed.
The table looked like it used to be in the dining room before Ryan and the guys bought and remodeled the Plank.
The five chairs could stay, those matched what was currently being used.
And the filing cabinets looked new. I hadn’t opened them yet, but with the stacks of crap all over the desk and the table, I’d bet they were empty.
The only other thing that looked like it had been purchased in the last sixty years was the monitors mounted on the wall that displayed the footage from the security camaras.
“Sorry to bother you,” Grace started, but paused and smiled at me. “Hey, Chloe.”
“Hey, Grace.”
She looked a little nervous as her gaze slid around the room again, not landing on anyone in particular. “I’ll come back when you’re not busy.”
“They’re not busy,” I told her and pushed back from the desk. “And I was just going out for coffee.” I glanced at Pete and Gavin sitting at the table. “Want anything?” I got two no-thank-yous.
When I looked at Ryan, he was frowning. “What about you?”
He started to push up. I quickly shook my head and flicked my eyes to Grace. “An Americano?”
I wasn’t sure if his expression was shocked or pleased I knew his preferred takeaway coffee drink. It should’ve come as no surprise. I’d paid a lot of attention to a lot of things when it came to Ryan.
“Yeah, Chloe, thanks.”
“Be back.”
I made my way through the kitchen, fielding greetings from the staff on my way out the back door. For once my thoughts weren’t heavy, as I walked down the alley. The stabbing pain that had been my constant companion had dulled.
That kind of love is eternal.
He loves from his soul.
I hit the sidewalk, and instead of studiously keeping my eyes averted from the sand and surf—something I’d been doing for months, which was difficult when the beauty of the Pacific was in your face day in and day out—I glanced across the street.
And instead of thinking about how I’d never take another early-morning walk with my dad, I remembered all the ones we’d taken over the years.
Not the specifics, not the silly teenage strife or, as I got older, the conversations about my future, but the emotions.
How during those walks I’d felt my dad’s love in abundance.
He loves from his soul.
The sadness now felt like a gift—the consequence of being deeply loved and loving someone in return. I’d never be ready to lose my dad. I hated that his mind couldn’t remember, but someplace deep inside of him that couldn’t be accessed, that love was branded onto his soul.
One day I’d walk those shores again without my dad beside me, but his presence would remain. His love was eternal—thus I’d never be without it.
The Daily Grind was jam packed, as it would be, seeing as it had the best coffee on the strand. After I placed my order, I was off to the side, reading the estimate the body shop had emailed, when I felt someone stop next to me. Startled, I glanced up. Seeing who it was, I relaxed and smiled.
“Hey, Naomi.”
“I know what you’re doing,” she snapped, and my smiled died.
“Um. Waiting for my coffee.”
“Who cares about coffee?” she sniped.
Well, I for one cared about coffee. Especially after a middle-of-the-night crying jag and morning filled with Ryan’s wisdom that helped me see things in a new light.
I didn’t get a chance to tell her that right then coffee was my only hope of making it through the day.
“It’s my turn,” she went on acidly. “And I’m not letting you fuck it up.”
“I have no idea—”
“Don’t pull that innocent, doe-eyed bullshit with me. I see the way you look at Sterling, and it won’t work. He doesn’t fuck his hostesses.”
My stomach revolted at the thought of fucking Sterling.
“Are you . . .” I stopped abruptly, realizing Naomi obviously knew something I needed to know and calling her crazy wouldn’t get me the information. But playing along would.
“Jealous?” she huffed, wrongly finishing my thought. “Please. If I wanted to fuck him, I would’ve already done it.”
“I wasn’t going to—”
“Listen, bitch,” she cut in. “I’m only going to say this once. Back the fuck off of Sterling. I’ve been waiting a long time to get invited to a feast. Cindy was one of his favorites, and now that she’s gone, I get my chance.”
“Cynthia was—”
“A stuck-up bitch,” Naomi rudely interrupted me again. “She thought she was the queen fucking bee with her standing invitation to hostess at the parties. Never thought that bitch would quit.”
I heard the barista call my name.
I probably should’ve had a better handle on my anger. I needed Naomi to open up and explain to me what a feast was so I could tell Ryan and the guys. But hearing Naomi call Cynthia a bitch had my temper flaring.
“She didn’t quit, and you know it. Her sister has reported her missing, and she’s frantic with worry.”
Naomi rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, right. Cindy’s been talking about moving to Vegas for the whole time I’ve known her. At five thousand a party plus tips, she took her twenty grand and ran.”
Twenty grand, holy shit.
And holy shit, Cindy had worked four of these parties.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I muttered and started for the counter.
I didn’t get very far before Naomi grabbed my arm. “I’m warning you—”
I wrenched my arm free. “And I’m warning you back. If Sterling asks me and I get my shot, I’m not saying no.”
With that lie still lingering in the air, I bustled to the counter.