Chapter Six
Roe
I fretted over my outfit for an embarrassingly long time for someone who usually prided herself on knowing exactly what to wear for any function. It was just something that came along with being in and around the fashion industry. You picked up on the dressing rules.
But there was no rule I knew of for what to wear to a very fancy restaurant for an early dinner with a strange man who’d bought the place out just for this date.
I settled on something that screamed ‘daytime’ but also ‘elegance.’
It was a 1930s-style sage green tulle dress, embroidered with delicate flowers that fell to calf-length, had a sweetheart neckline, wide straps, and nipped in at the waist.
I left my hair down but didn’t curl it like I did for work, went easy on the makeup, and slipped into kitten heels.
“That’s going to have to do,” I told my reflection. “It’s cute, right?” I asked, turning toward the bed where my cat lounged, watching me with her one blue eye.
I’d come across her in my first week in Atlantic City. The night before, I’d been awoken by the sound of cats shrieking as they fought. When I went to go on a run the next morning, I saw a pile of white fluff in the alley next to my apartment building.
Then there she was.
Eye messed up, half her ear missing.
I spent every dime I had getting her to a vet to get patched up and have her damaged eye removed. She’d been a pampered inside cat ever since. She even knew to stay silent and still inside my closet when the super came in to do any repairs, since I wasn’t technically allowed to have a pet.
Alley stared at me for a second, unimpressed, then started to clean her paw.
“Well, what do you know?” I said, making my way out of the bedroom and walking into the kitchen, setting up her food dish and topping off her water fountain. “You hold down the fort, okay?” I called to her as I grabbed my bag and phone and rushed downstairs to meet my rideshare.
I’d had a car when I first moved to the area. But when the engine blew, I hadn’t had the money to fix it. So I’d been hoofing it most places ever since. And ordering delivery groceries since there wasn’t a single full-service grocery store inside AC.
But I didn’t want to walk all the way to the restaurant in heels. So I spent a little of my tip money on getting a ride.
Also, it saved me a few of the minutes I wasted fretting over my clothes.
I pulled up with only one moment to spare.
And there was Milo.
In a charcoal gray suit, looking just as sexy in the daylight as he had in a dark, smoky lounge the night before.
“I was hoping you’d get my note,” he said. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks. I hope this is dressy enough,” I said, looking at the small square brick building with the black roof and awnings.
“It’s perfect. Have you ever been here before?”
“I haven’t. It’s hard to get a reservation.” Even if I had the money. “Have you?”
“To eat? No. Just to arrange this meeting.”
With that, he led me inside.
It was an understated kind of upscale restaurant with exposed brick walls, black built-in cabinets with wine, dark wood chairs and tables draped in white linen.
We were led to the centermost table by a server in a white shirt with black slacks and a black vest. He handed us each a menu and asked Milo about wine.
“Do you want something else?” Milo asked me, likely remembering my words from the night before.
“Red sounds good,” I said with a soft smile. When Milo finished ordering, I shrugged. “I don’t like my boss thinking I drink,” I admitted.
“I get that. He and his friends are… a lot.”
“That’s a nice way of putting it,” I agreed, offering the server a smile as he came back with the wine, pouring Milo a taste, then giving us each a full pour.
“How long have you been singing there?”
“Just shy of a year.”
“Have you always been a singer?”
“Yes. My mom put me in beauty pageants as a girl. Singing was my talent. But beauty pageants eventually led to modeling. So singing was just something I did in the shower or car for years.”
“But you loved it.”
“It was all I ever wanted to do. I knew that modeling had an expiration date. And it was getting closer every year. I wanted to give my dream a try.”
“In Atlantic City.”
“I know,” I said, shaking my head. “I think I was a little scared of failure. I wanted to try my luck in a smaller pond.”
“You’re better than you think you are. What’s the plan when you see that?”
“Maybe a different city. New York. Vegas. If that doesn’t work out, there’s always… teaching singing. Enough about me. What do you do?”
“Business. Not nearly as interesting as singing.”
We each flipped open our menus, and I tried not to panic that it was the kind of fancy where the prices weren’t even listed.
Milo ordered the sausage carbonara.
I went for the pasta in vodka sauce.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked once the server walked off.
“Sure,” I agreed, taking a sip of wine that was both sweet and tart at the same time.
“What do you think of your boss?”
“Frank?” I asked, wondering if this was a situation where I should be honest or not.
“I’m not trying to get you in trouble,” he clarified. “To be perfectly honest with you, I can’t stand the guy.”
“That’s the right instinct. He’s… slimy. Out for himself. Abuses his power.”
“Saw him almost grabbing ass last night.”
“He thinks that his employees belong to him. Especially the women.”
“Except he can’t have you. And that makes him want you more.”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Alright. In that case, I have a proposition for you.”
“A proposition,” I repeated, my spine stiffening, the wine tasting sour on my tongue. “What kind of proposition?”
“I have… a plan to take Frank’s business out from under him.”
“Really? You want a crappy casino in a dying town?”
“Well, some of us think AC is going to make a comeback. It’s smart to get in before it does. When prices are reasonable.”
“Okay. Is that why I’m here?”
“Well, I wanted to ask you out before I even knew Frank,” he clarified. “But when I saw how… fond he was of you, I got an idea.”
“I’m not going to whore myself out for you,” I said, ready to storm out of the restaurant.
Sensing that impulse, his hand shot out, closing over mine on the table.
“I wouldn’t ask that of you. I’m asking for… intel.”
“Intel,” I repeated. “On what?”
“On anything about Frank you can get your hands on. Business files, information about shady deals, any enemies. Basically, I want to know every weak spot he has so I can exploit it.”
“How do you think I can get this information?”
“If I’m not mistaken, you can move around the innards of the casino without anyone looking at you twice.”
“Okay, yeah. I mean I’ve never been to his office. And I have no idea if I can get in it.”
“If there’s anyone who can find that out, I have a feeling it’s you.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Especially with how interested in me Frank was. He’d invited me to his office a few times in the past, in fact. And if I sat and thought about it, I was sure I could come up with a dozen excuses for wanting to be there. Needing time off, asking for a raise, the list went on and on.
That said, choosing to be closer to him, to be snooping around in his personal space, was dangerous. Just being there in general increased my chances of him trying something with me. But if he caught me doing things I wasn’t supposed to? That could get me jailed. Or worse.
“Why would I do that?” I asked.
Milo leaned back in his seat.
“Ten grand to start. Ten grand for information that is helpful.”
Twenty grand was a hell of a lot of money.
Maybe it wouldn’t have been to me a few years back. Back when modeling money was good. And pageant wins were better.
But that money was way in the past.
And most of it, well, I’d trusted my mom as my manager to handle it for me, invest it, set it up for my future. She sent me back what she thought I needed to live on.
But she hadn’t invested it, hadn’t set me up for my eventual retirement from modeling.
She’d used most of it to bail out her third husband’s business. By the time I started to get suspicious, there was hardly enough to pay off my car and credit card.
I’d committed to another two years of modeling, this time handling my own money.
But the burnout was fast. Too much travel.
Too many people analyzing and finding my body wanting.
Too many crash diets. Too many people telling me to start getting filler and Botox because I was no longer prepubescent-looking.
There was just too much criticism and uncertainty.
I finally just had to wrap it up.
Make a plan.
Move on.
With just enough money to get myself an apartment, some furniture, and a few nice dresses.
Ever since then, I hadn’t had more than a couple hundred spare bucks to my name at the end of each month when bills were paid.
Twenty grand could help me move to a bigger city. Or record an album. Get a degree so I could teach music. Something, anything different.
That said, this was my ass on the line.
And everything about Milo said he had a lot of money.
I had nothing to lose by demanding more.
“Twenty-five and twenty-five.”
“Ten and forty.”
He wasn’t quibbling about the amount, just how much I got if I didn’t produce anything. I had to respect that.
“Fifteen and thirty-five.”
“Done.”
“And protection if things go wrong.”
“Okay. What kind of protection?”
“Get me out of here if things go south. Frank is connected in this town. I don’t think I’d last an hour if he found out I was working against him.”
Milo sat up, then leaned forward.
“Trust me, sweetheart, Frank isn’t the only one connected in this town. If something goes sideways, I could have you packed up and on your way out of the area before he even knew you were found out.”
God, he sounded like a mob boss.
And it was kind of hot.
“Okay then,” I agreed, reaching for my wine again.
If he noticed the tremble in my hand, he made no comment on it.
“So, give me specifics. If you want information, I need to know what you’re looking for.”