by Suzie Nelson
And then there was the promotion. Selena growled under her breath. Their bosses hadn’t been subtle in their hints about who would be moving up to manager in a few weeks, and they hadn’t been talking about Selena. Which was totally unfair. Selena had worked at Crosby Street for just as long as Avery had and was an excellent concierge. The guests loved her – especially the men (most of them, at any rate). But her bosses had always preferred Avery to her. It was probably because they were all women, Selena thought bitterly.
Selena had been willing to let the promotion go without a fight, but now with Deacon Wolfe in the mix, she was furious. It was time to take Avery down a notch or two.After all, God helped those who helped themselves, right?
Selena knew what she needed. She needed a plan. And to do that she needed a manicure. Hailing a taxi, she told it to drive until they found the nearest nail salon. Five minutes later, Selena was throwing herself into a padded manicurist’s chair. “Fix me,” she told the blonde at the station. “I’m having a horrendous day.”
“You wanna talk about it?” said the manicurist, taking Selena’s left hand in both of hers and removing the perfect nail polish that was already there.
“This bitch at work. I have to take her down. She’s stolen my promotion and now she’s after my man too!” Selena looked up at the ceiling. “I’ll start with the promotion. That won’t be too hard. A little clip of her going out with one of the guests outside of working hours in the right hands will lose her her job, never mind her promotion.”
“Mmhmm,” said the manicurist, not really listening. Women were always coming in here acting like she was some sort of cross between a life coach, a shrink, and their mother. She made minimum wage plus tips to paint nails. She didn’t give a shit about their problems. To her, it was all white noise. But she was very good at pretending to listen. That was what brought in the big tips.
“Exactly. But how to get her away from Deacon?” Selena frowned at the manicurist’s blond bangs.
“The scum is cheating on her,” the manicurist offered. It was her response to almost any relationship question her clients put to her. That, combined with “Oh, honey, just leave him. He doesn’t deserve you” worked for nearly all occasions.
Selena snapped the fingers of her free hand. “Oh my God, you’re a literal genius. That’s perfect. I’ll cozy up to her, say I heard it from one of the other girls that he was hitting on them, trying to get her to drinks with him. Or no, even better, I’ll say he was hitting on me. And of course, I turned him down, obviously. Because I’m her friend and I would never do that to her. It’s perfect. She’ll eat it right up, she’s such an idiot.”
“Sounds great,” said the manicurist, bending over Selena’s hand so that she wouldn’t see her roll her eyes.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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