Chapter 7
Jude
I was trying to hold it together; I really was, but something was going to have to give.
My stomach churned with nerves, and I chewed on my fingernail as I sat and waited for my turn to interview for the waitressing job at Sugar Babes, a restaurant just off campus.
It was just after lunch, the dead part of the day, but the place was still pretty busy with a good flow of student clientele.
I could see why.
The waitresses were dressed in unashamedly skimpy costumes—short skirts, heels or hooker boots, and shirts that left a lot of cleavage on display.
The general theme was sexy anything-college related—schoolgirl, athlete, cheerleader, professor—as long as it had something to do with the college experience, it was fair game.
I took a deep breath and looked down at my own modest button-up and jeans. The button-up was a size too big except over my breasts, the tails flowing down to mid-thigh. The jeans, at least, were form-fitting.
I needed this job.
I needed something close to campus, which was three hours away from Cold Spring, and I needed a place to stay on campus, so I could just go home on the weekends to see Eleanor. I was running myself ragged trying to go back and forth and work at the fast food place.
Plus, I was spending everything I earned on gas money.
Standing up, I unbuttoned my shirt down to show some cleavage, and then unbuttoned it from the bottom a few buttons, as well. Criss-crossing the ends, I tied them in the back, pulling the fabric taut around my waist and torso.
The girl sitting across from me grinned faintly. “Much better.”
“Thanks.” I sat back down.
“I’m Neve.”
“Jude.”
“You should put some lipstick on, too. I love the pink in your hair, by the way. I’m thinking about putting purple in mine.”
“I don’t think I have any…” I rummaged in my purse, but I was pretty certain I was out. “And thank you. I needed a change, and this was it.” I looked up at her, studying her brown hair. “You should do it! Purple would be really pretty in your hair.”
She dug around in her own purse and produced a tube of lipstick. “You think? Here. Use mine. I promise I don’t have cooties.”
“Oh, my God. Thank you.”
While we waited, Neve and I exchanged numbers and social media information. I had a feeling that if nothing else came of this interview, I had at least made a friend.
“Jude Tiernay?”
“Oof. That’s me. Thank you, again.” Feeling less nervous than before, I made my way into the office for my interview.
To my surprise, there were two men around my age in the small room.
The one who had called me back looked as though he belonged there.
He seated himself behind a battered metal desk and gestured me toward an uncomfortable-looking chair opposite.
“Have a seat, Jude. I’m Mike, the manager. I’ll be interviewing you.”
The other guy, a too-attractive blond for my peace of mind, was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, scrolling something on his phone, and barely looked up as I entered.
I hesitated before sitting down, casting a questioning look in his direction, but neither man addressed his presence, and I decided to simply ignore him.
Mike, a man with deep brown skin and warm amber eyes, smiled at me. “So, Jude, tell me about yourself and why you think you’d be a good fit for Sugar Babes.”
I hated talking about myself, but I’d been taught how to do so from a young age. Social graces were something drilled into us, as we were an extension of our parents.
I smiled back. “Well, I’m a recent transplant from New York, and looking for a job that offers more hours and a location more convenient to campus than my current one.
Sugar Babes fits the bill. I think I’d be a good fit because I’m good with people, steady under pressure, and reliable.
” I wracked my brain to think of something more.
Before I could come up with something, a voice drawled from behind me, “I expected more from a girl with pink hair.”
I whipped around in my seat to look at the blond-haired man. “Excuse me?”
“Ezra, I told you, observation only.”
He didn’t take his pale brown eyes off of mine. “But I’m having fun.”
“Is he in charge of my interview?” I asked Mike without turning around.
“No. Absolutely not. He’s just here to provide…consulting.”
“Consulting?” I turned around at that, narrowing my gaze on my would-be employer.
“Yes.” His lips twitched. “From a consumer standpoint.”
“I see.” I turned back to the blond man. Ezra. “Okay. Is there something…from a consumer standpoint…that you would like to know more about?”
He stroked a finger against his bottom lip. “Say a table of gentlemen got a little handsy. How would you handle the situation?”
“That would depend on how our company policy states we’re supposed to handle such things,” I replied. “I would think that we either have bouncers to deal with issues of that nature, or we’re allowed to deal with it as we need to, which would be escalating responses until the problem is resolved.”
“You sound like a handbook,” Ezra said.
“You sound disappointed,” Mike replied.
I shrugged. “I don’t usually have any problems. Being firm and direct is generally enough.”
Both men laughed. Ezra looked at Mike. “You have to hire her now, because this I gotta see.”
Mike nodded, a gleam in his eyes. “It’ll be interesting, that’s for sure.” He turned his attention to me. “We’ll give you a trial week, starting tomorrow night if you can swing it.”
Yes!
I nodded. “Absolutely.”
Sleeping arrangements would be a problem. There was no way I could work here in the evenings, drive three hours to Cold Spring afterward, and then get up in the morning and get back to campus before my first class every day.
Maybe Neve would let me crash on her floor until I could find a place? I would ask when she finished her interview.
“Great. Ask the bartender for a uniform to get you started, and we’ll get more ordered if you make it through the first week.”
“Thank you.”
Mike rose and went to call Neve in for her interview, dismissing me without another word.
I tapped out a text message to her asking if we could chat after her interview, and then put my phone away.
Ezra ducked his head back into his phone, and I stood to leave, feeling a strange combination of triumph and let-down.
I had a feeling he expected me to fail my trial week, but I wouldn’t.
I couldn’t. I needed this job too badly.
On a whim, I stuck my tongue out at him as I passed him on the way out the door. As luck would have it, he looked up and caught me. Face flaming, I kept going, the devilish grin that split his face embedded in my memory.
Shit.