21. Chloe
twenty-one
Shoshana, Corine, Abby, and I all go to Game Night. We had an okay evening for a weekday. Corine handled some walk-ins, I told Shoshana to turn the rest away without telling Corine, and dinner service went without any yelling or dishes returned or any other glitches.
We were closing the restaurant when the twins, Ryan and Trevor, showed up saying they heard we needed help with clean up since “the ladies” were going out. No questions asked, we left them with David and Eric and headed out earlier than planned.
Cassandra’s lingerie boutique is like a mini art gallery dedicated to showcasing the woman’s body. I’ve eyed it a couple of times already, but tonight we enter through the back door, which leads us to a hallway with the most extravagant she-living room on the left.
A number of women in varying states of tipsiness are sprawled on white couches, their pedicured feet propped on golden tables, twirling girly drinks in their hands, laughing and mock arguing about some version of a game of Clue.
“Yayyyy! The restaurant gang! You made it!” Haley shrieks and hurls herself at us. “Get them something to drink! Get them a foot massage by a hot guy! Get them…” She turns around and lunges to a mirrored bar in the back. With steadier hands than I would have credited her for, she starts mixing drinks for us.
I’m introduced to everyone, and minutes later we’re plopped in adult versions of the bean bag, our feet are bare—but no hot guys to massage them—and the whole room stops its chatter when our hostess, Cassandra, says, “I am elated that you and Justin are going to be working together. I cannot wait to see what you come up with. There’s nothing like the creative sparks that fly when inventive minds join forces.” She turns her attention to a group of women lined up on a couch, one of them Grace. “Alex!”
A young woman with long, honey-colored hair perks up. “I know you just came back, and thank god for that, but—would you be able to film these two working on the new signature dish for the fair? A sort of making of?”
The woman named Alex leaves her friends to crouch next to me. “I’d love to. I’ve heard so much about you already. When are you and Justin working together?”
“I—I’m not sure… We might…” The room is dead silent. I glance at Cassandra, who’s looking at me intently. “I might have been roped into something I’m not sure I can handle. I was fine working with Shane, but Justin, I don’t know.”
Cassandra smacks her lips. “I think I know where you’re coming from. Justin was rude—”
“Justin?” Alex exclaims.
“Girl, you missed some action,” Grace says, and Haley uh-hunhs.
“Justin was rude to you,” Cassandra resumes, “but you need to keep that door just a crack open. Give him a chance.”
“He hasn’t really apologized.”
“But he punched Samuel in the nose, and there was blood everywhere,” Corine cuts in.
A few gasps come from the audience, from those who aren’t twenty-four-seven logged into Echoes. There’s no way that’s not in there.
“Is he pressing charges?” someone asks.
“Nothing on the police blotter yet, and no radio chatter about that either,” one of the older women says. “Looks like no one bothered calling it in,” she adds, looking at Corine, who raises her hands as if to say, I don’t want anything to do with it.
“I don’t think punching someone in the nose counts as an apology, Corine,” Cassandra brings the topic back to where she seems to want it.
“Wait. I’m missing pieces of the story,” Alex says. “Why would this have anything to do with an apology?”
“Because,” Corine swoons, “you should have seen him.”
A lengthy account of my rescue from the walk-in cooler follows, after which Cassandra asks me, “Did he ever formally apologize for what happened at the pub?”
“Days later, he said, ‘I apologize.’” A disappointed chorus answers me. “And that’s only because he… we… bumped into each other.”
“Yikes. I wouldn’t settle for less than an extravagant bouquet of flowers,” Haley says.
Grace and Shoshana and others I don’t remember the name of approve loudly. Corine is beaming.
“But what happened?” Alex asks, getting frustrated.
“He’s been totally out of control since he went to Boston. Before he knocked out Samuel, he yelled at Chloe.”
“Our Justin? He’s the sweetest man on earth,” Alex says.
“I’m sure it’s a girl. He all but admitted it to me.”
Alex snaps her head to Haley. “A girl? Justin? For more than a night?”
“Ooooh. You might be onto something,” one of the more mature women says.
“Grace, honey, find out from your brother if he noticed anything in Boston. Alex, ask your man if Justin let anything slip during one of their much-imbibed pity parties,” Cassandra says.
“Imbibed? Justin?!” Alex’s eyes are like saucers. “Oh my god, what happened to him in Boston? You’re right. It’s gotta be a woman.”
My heartbeat drums in my ears, and my palms are sweaty. This is bad. Really bad. Could they find out it’s me he slept with in Boston? And at the same time, I’m getting a hum. A nice hum all over. Is he really out of sorts because of our night together?
And what if they find out? Will they get in Justin’s business even more than they are now? “What if… what if you find out and it upsets him even more?” I venture.
“I heard he got a new tat,” Millie says, ignoring me.
“What?” This time it’s Haley who can’t believe what she’s hearing. “The only tats he has are…”
“Those that cover his scars,” Grace finishes.
A deadly silence follows this realization.
“Ladies, we need to sort this out. I went without bread for two weeks thanks to Ms. Alex here who thought it was cute to literally take a hike. I am not—not—going for an indefinite amount of time without a pub,” Ms. Angela says.
“Hear, hear!” the whole group approves.
“Haley, try and find out what the tattoo is,” Millie says.
“And where it is!” Corine shouts and holds her glass out for a refill.
“Hear, hear!”
“Did you hear about the potatoes at the Silver House?” a lady with white, curly hair says, moving the conversation away from Justin.
“It was in the police blotter!” Ms. Angela confirms. “I read Declan went in to check that everything else was okay. Lemme tell you, I had dinner there with Abigail last week—she moved in six months ago—and it’s not just the potatoes,” she adds firmly.
“What’s the Silver House?” I ask Alex under my breath.
“The retirement home,” she whispers back.
“Anyhoo,” the lady with white, curly hair continues, “Declan sat with her to make sure nothing else was wrong. Turns out, that was it.”
“Well, their food really is a crime, if you ask me,” Ms. Angela sighs.
”Oh—the people at the Silver House are sweethearts. It’s just the food is—”
“That was in the police blotter?” Haley asks, incredulous.
“Has to be, if someone calls the police,” several older voices say.
“Man, I should have reported my brothers more often when I was a kid. Can’t believe I missed out on having Declan check in on me!” she teases, oblivious to Corine shooting daggers at her.
“It would have been old man Frank, honey,” Ms. Angela tells her. “Not handsome Officer Campbell at the time.”
“Uh. Still worth the annoyance to my brothers. Wish I’d known you could do that.”
“Chloe, dear, come here,” Cassandra says once the commotion recedes, and some ladies are either being picked up or walking to their homes after we say our goodbyes.
What does she want from me?
She takes me to the boutique side of her house. “I’d like to give you a welcome gift. Something you would wear… to relax, at home, when you’re in good company. If you get my drift.” She winks at me.
“Um… no, I don’t. I don’t plan on having that type of company anytime soon. Or, like, ever.”
“Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta. Nonsense. Turn around.” She holds my hand and twirls me around. “Build it, and they will come. Pun intended.”
“I don’t want them to come!” I chuckle but still look at her stuff. It’s absolutely gorgeous. There’re all sorts of shapes of bras, all in beautiful fabrics—lace and silk, see-through or padded, demi-cup, full cup. Matching panties with various degrees of reveal and more elaborate contraptions that might have been worn by the women who inspired Bridgerton.
“You’ll come around. Meanwhile, consider this. Wear beautiful lingerie for yourself. Every single day. You may be the only one to see it, but it will give you confidence, a sense of your worth. They say true beauty comes from within. Then wrap it up with a bow to match it.”
“I like the attitude.” I discreetly look at the price tags.
“There’s a forty percent discount for locals,” Cassandra says, then adds, lowering her voice as if there was anyone to hear us, “and I mean, us working people. Second homeowners consider themselves locals, bless their heart, but if I gave them a discount, I might as well close shop.”
Smart woman. At a forty percent discount, I’m sure she still has a margin, if slim. It keeps some money coming in. “Are there a lot of second homeowners here?”
“Oh, baby. Yesss. The Boston and New York creme de la crop. How do you think I can have a shop like this here? Them and Canadians. They come here on the weekends, and they shop like it’s their job. Which for some of them, it kind of is their occupation.”
She’s giving me a lot to think about for the restaurant. Data points I didn’t have. Creative ideas to bring in more money. No matter what Lynn may know or think she knows, I haven’t been tasked with closing the restaurant. But what she said put a fire in me, and I’m working double to make it profitable much earlier than planned.
Cassandra hands me a purple bag with Cassandra’s Lingerie written in golden ink. “I can see the wheels turning. Here’s a little welcome gift for you. Something to relax in after a hard day of work.”