Ready or Not

by Melissa Brayden

  Once Hope was out of earshot, the table came alive with chatter.

  “This drink is amazing.”

  “Have you tried the doughnut with the honey?”

  “How have we not come here before?”

  “Do they do special events?”

  It was exactly what Mallory had been hoping for. But in the midst of keeping a watchful eye on the interactions at the table, she’d forgotten the main event, her drink. She sipped delicately from her glass, paying careful attention to the flavors Hope had described. Quite simply, she had been spot on. The cocktail was rich and refreshing at the same time, which are two characteristics you wouldn’t expect to coexist. Next, she took a bite of one of the circular doughnuts and practically collapsed at the sugary warmth. “You have to be kidding me!” she said louder than she meant to. Instantly, all eyes were on her.

  “Sorry,” she said. “A little doughnut emotion cropping up. Carry on.”

  “I’ve already proposed to mine,” Robby said in solidarity. “I’m kind of a doughnut connoisseur too, and if you serve ’em hot like this, I’m gone.”

  Samantha leaned in. “You’re familiar with the cronut then?”

  “I need them to live,” Robby said earnestly, pulling a laugh from Sam.

  “Okay, so you’re gay as well?” she heard Freddy say to Hunter. Bless his heart. Bless him.

  “I am,” she said.

  He shrugged. “Just curious is all.” Of course he was just curious.

  “So I looked over your proposal,” Timmy said to Mallory, and the table got exceptionally quiet. Aha, finally. She slipped into business mode.

  “What questions can I answer for you?”

  “Well, we especially liked the mention of theme night and were wondering if you could expand a bit.” Mallory passed Brooklyn the baton. This was all her.

  “Essentially,” Brooklyn said, “theme nights can happen at any regular interval you choose. We’re recommending every other week. You devote one screen and one dedicated showing of a fan favorite, tie it to a theme, and let us promote the hell out of it. For example, next Tuesday at seven could be Girls’ Night Out and you show Mean Girls or Clueless or Steel Magnolias. Two weeks later is Get Your Action On, and you run Terminator, for example, or Die Hard or Mission Impossible. It would be something you scheduled in advance and promoted on a monthly basis.”

  “I love that,” Freddy said, turning to his buddies.

  “And you can tie your menu into what you show. Create a signature cocktail or a series of them for the month’s offerings.”

  “I like the way you think,” Timmy said, pointing at Brooklyn. “And now I’m wondering if Hope can’t help us with those cocktails. Maybe draw up a menu and create a narrative, much like she just gave us tonight.”

  Mallory raised a finger. “I bet she’d be willing to consult in exchange for some exposure.”

  “Okay. What if we held a few of our opening-night bashes here? We do them several times a year when really big films open and invite contest winners.”

  “I love that idea,” Mallory said. “And I will discuss it with Hope if it’s something you’re serious about.”

  “It is,” Timmy said. “So do we have a deal?” Mallory studied him, because wait a minute, was he offering Savvy the account? He pulled her proposal from his bag and flipped to the back where his signature resided on the bottom page.

  “When did you sign this?” Mallory asked, smiling.

  Timmy shrugged. “Pretty much the second you left the office.”

  “We could tell you were good people,” Freddy said.

  Robby nodded. “Plus, we’d already researched the hell out of your company. We just wanted to see if you’d be any fun to work with on top of your awesome credentials.”

  “And?” Hunter asked.

  “More than fun!” Timmy said, and high-fived Hunter. “We’re headed to a strip club after this. Wanna come?”

  Hunter seemed to consider the offer, but Samantha stepped in. “Sorry. Sounds like a blast, but we have a staff meeting of our own tonight.”

  “We do,” Hunter said, smiling at Sam. “It’s kind of major.”

  Timmy nodded. “You guys work hard. I like that.” Mallory smiled at both Timmy’s compliment and Hunter and Sam’s double meaning. “Mallory, we’ll be in touch shortly, and in the meantime, welcome to the Big Top family.”

  Freddy pulled four Big Top sweatshirts from a box beneath the table and handed them out. “And one for the secret weapon,” he said, presenting Brooklyn hers.

  “Yay!” Brooklyn said, instantly pulling the red-and-white sweatshirt over her head.

  And because it was only fitting, high-fives happened all around.

  *

  Hope watched from behind the bar as her VIP table said their good-byes with smiles on their faces. And smiles generally meant happy, right? She breathed a much-needed sigh of relief, as it had been a stressful week. She’d yet to lay eyes on Kara, though she had received a very generic “all went well” text that morning. Still, she felt unsettled.

  And then there’d been today’s important gathering to prep for.

  Mallory had made it clear that impressing these guys could be a big deal in the long run, and as a result she’d probably overthought it all. She wasn’t sure she had ever been that nervous in her life and now felt like collapsing in her office in full-on recovery mode. On the plus side, the cocktails seemed to have been well received. All seven glasses were empty and there wasn’t a doughnut in sight.

  While mixing two Bellinis for a couple at the bar, she kept one eye on the action not far away. The men departed the table first, and the one who’d introduced himself as Timmy took a detour to the bar. Instead of the high-fives that seemed to be happening all over the place, he extended a sincere handshake her way.

  “Very impressed with your presentation tonight. You’ll be hearing from us. I think we can do some work together, if you’re up for it.”

  “Thank you,” Hope said, honored he thought so. “I look forward to that.”

  Mallory walked the group to the door but didn’t exit with them. Instead, she made her way back to the bar and slid onto a stool across from Hope, who waited anxiously to hear what she had to say.

  “Any more of those doughnuts?” Mallory asked.

  “Nope. Not until you tell me how it went.”

  “Mean. Doughnuts are my favorite.”

  Okay, that was entirely cute, but Hope resisted. “You can have as many doughnuts as you want after the telling.”

  “Do I have to pay for them?”

  She was teasing now. Hope was getting very good at recognizing the different shades of Mallory Spencer, and teasing was always a good sign, as she reserved it for key moments.

  Hope slid her an easy smile. “I’m sure we could work something out.”

  Mallory laughed. “I see what you did there, Slick.”

  “That’s me. Now spill, and I’ll have a plate of doughnuts with your name on it here in 2.4 seconds.”

  Mallory held out both hands, palms up in a torturously long pause. Then finally, “They loved it. All of it.”

  Hope took a moment, refusing to fully believe this. “Really? They really liked it?”

  “Loved it. Really. They’re interested in using the space for promotional parties and also mentioned working with you to create a thematic cocktail menu for each month that ties into whatever film is on tap. We haven’t discussed details, but I imagine they’ll credit the bar in some way.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m not. Doughnuts are involved so that would be silly.”

  Hope paced the length of the bar at the news. The movement helped her absorb the victory.

  “You doing some laps there?” Mallory asked.

  Hope covered her eyes a moment. “I needed this today. I really, really needed this.”

  “Congratulations,” Mallory said warmly.

  Hope returned and shook her head. “Here you are congratu
lating me when really I should be thanking you. You did this. You made it happen.”

  Mallory shrugged. “All I did was set it up. You took it from there. Does this mean we have a deal? Are we going to work together?”

  “Consider yourself hired.”

  “Excellent. Because I have a lot of ideas.”

  “You do?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  They locked eyes and held on, both of them smiling. Hope liked this woman. She really, really liked her. The sound of a loud sniffle interrupted Hope’s thoughts and pulled her focus. Sophie, complete with a tear-stained face and swollen eyes, had arrived for work.

  “Excuse me a moment,” Hope said to Mallory.

  As Sophie retrieved her apron, Hope intercepted her. “Everything all right, Soph?”

  At the question, Sophie promptly burst into tears and not the pretty kind. This was a full-on ugly cry, accompanied by a running nose and sputtering sobs.

  “Okay. All right. I’ve got you,” Hope said, wrapping her arm around Sophie and guiding her to a stool at the bar next to Mallory, who looked on with concern.

  “You okay?” Mallory asked. “I’m Mallory. I think we’ve met a couple of times.”

  Sophie nodded, sobbed some more, and sputtered the words, “I’ll never be okay again.” Okay, so that was maybe a little dramatic.

  “Why don’t you tell us what’s wrong?” Hope asked.

  “Katia is through with me. She tossed me aside like last week’s lettuce.”

  Hope winced at the very specific and odd reference. It seemed Katia the heartbreaker had struck again. Mallory tossed Hope a questioning glance.

  She tried to help clarify. “Sits in the corner and broods, usually in all black? Writes poetry in a little book.”

  “Ah, gotcha,” Mallory said, pointing at Hope, now on the same page. She turned to Sophie and patted her arm. “Sweetie, that woman is not worth your time. She’s working it with a different girl every week. I’ve seen it.”

  “But we were supposed to be different. We were in love!” Sophie exclaimed, drawing out the word.

  “I know it feels like that now,” Hope said, calmly. “But you’re young. And you’re going to find out that love is very different than what you’re describing. It takes time, and in the midst of the trickier spots, no one treats anyone like…what was it you said?”

  “Lettuce,” Mallory supplied.

  “Right.” She turned to Sophie. “There are no last-week’s-lettuce parallels in love.”

  “Wise words,” Mallory said, and smiled at her.

  She shrugged. “I’m working with what I have here.”

  “She said we could be friends. Can you believe that?” Sophie wailed. And then a new thought seemed to occur to her and she paled. “What if she comes in tonight? She can’t see me all a mess. How’s my face?”

  Hope wasn’t sure how to explain to Sophie that her face right now was reminiscent of a swollen eggplant. “You look fine, Sophie. But you’ve had a rough go of it. I’m thinking it might be a good idea if you take tonight off.”

  “Really?” Sophie asked. “I don’t want to lose my job.”

  “You will not lose your job.”

  Mallory watched the exchange and felt her heart swell at the careful way Hope dealt with Sophie, who was clearly a basket case of youthful naïveté. But Hope was patient, thoughtful, and kind with her.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow, ready to go,” Sophie said.

  “I know you will.” Hope patted her hand. “Do you have a friend you can call? Maybe relax a little, watch some movies.”

  Mallory raised a finger. “And junk food. You’ll need a copious amount of junk food, preferably of the chocolate variety.”

  Sophie considered this suggestion. “My roommate should be around. And I could stop for ice cream on the way home.”

  “Now you’re talking,” Hope said. They watched Sophie head for the door. “Poor kid.”

  Mallory lowered her head to catch Hope’s gaze. “You were great with her. Really. I had no idea you were such a softie.”

  “I’m not,” Hope said defiantly. “I am not a softie at all.”

  “Right. Right. I just imagined it, clearly.”

  “Fine, okay. She’s a sweet kid and I feel bad for her. Even if she does make a very average waitress.”

  The comment had the wheels in Mallory’s head turning. “I’m still interested in the story there. When you have more money than God, why do you take up waitressing?”

  Hope held up her hands. “Not my business.”

  “Do you know what is your business?” Mallory asked, passing Hope her most innocent face.

  “What’s that?”

  “The doughnuts you promised me,” she said, patting the empty spot in front of her.

  Hope laughed. “I thought maybe you’d forgotten.”

  “Doesn’t happen. These are doughnuts we’re talking about. I’ll take three.”

  Hope tossed a towel over her shoulder and headed to the kitchen, offering Mallory a much-enjoyed view of her exit. It had already been a good day, but with the addition of doughnuts and a hot bartender, it was shaping up to be a great one.

  Chapter Ten

  Hope left Showplace by eleven that night but didn’t intend to head home. She checked the address of the diner on her phone and hopped the A train to Fourteenth Street, ignoring the stale smell of the subway and loud group of twenty-somethings clearly en route to a new stop on their raucous evening out. Her world felt unsettled, and she had to do what she could to put things right.

  As she walked the block and a half to the corner of Eighth Avenue, she nervously fingered the house key in her jacket pocket and hoped Kara was working. Quite simply, she wanted to lay eyes on her and make sure all was as it should be. The fear that she’d backslid on her sobriety ran a constant loop in the back of Hope’s brain, and she needed to silence the concern.

  Hope pushed open the door to the Stairway to Heaven Café, hit instantly with the aroma of coffee and bacon, a homey smell that somehow put her at ease. A faint smile touched her lips. Leatherette booths lined the perimeter of the small room, with a band of black-topped tables scattered through its center. She looked around the bustling diner for any sign of Kara, as plates with fried eggs, burgers, and pancakes whisked past, but she came up short. There were two waitresses on the floor, and a hostess standing behind a cash register. The place wasn’t big, but it clearly did a decent late-night business.

  “Table for one?” the hostess asked, eyeing her curiously. She must have caught the resemblance to Kara, which meant Hope had arrived at the right place. The woman then offered a weary smile that Hope could relate to, the kind that said she’d been on her feet for hours on end and still had the remainder of her shift to muddle through.

  “Um, yeah. Thank you,” Hope answered, not really sure what her course of action would be, but a cup of coffee couldn’t hurt. The hostess walked her to a booth in the corner. Hope reached for a menu when the door to the kitchen swung open and Hope caught sight of a flash of blond hair reminiscent of her own. Kara delivered a plate of onion rings and ketchup to the table across from hers, turned, pulled out her order pad, and headed to Hope’s table.

  The sight of Kara’s face had Hope’s next breath caught in her throat. She had used makeup to cover as much as she could, but the purple and pink bruising around Kara’s eye looked angry and painful. Her lip was swollen on one side and a laceration jutted just below. “You weren’t returning my calls,” Hope offered meekly, her stomach sick at the sight of her battered sister.

  Kara raised a shoulder and took a step closer to the booth, her voice low. “I didn’t want to upset you. You went to a lot of trouble for me already, kiddo. You’re in the clear.”

  “Who did this?” Hope asked, anger curling in her stomach.

  Kara studied the floor. “Please. Who do you think?”

  “But you paid him. What more does he want?”

  “A hell of a lot more money appar
ently. He said interest went up and he wants another 20K.”

  “Of course he did.” Hope shook her head. This wasn’t about money. This was about power. Dominic wanted Kara under his thumb because he knew he could control her. “So we need to rethink this.”

  Kara signaled the hostess and took a seat in the booth across from Hope. “Nothing to rethink, Hope. I don’t have any way out of this. I’ll keep Dominic happy for a little while longer, come to work each day and wait for him to get tired of me.”

  “That’s not a good plan.”

  “Listen, it’s all I’ve got. I’ve gone over this every which way.”

  Then something occurred to Hope. “Where are you staying? You haven’t been back to the apartment.”

  A small smile touched Kara’s lips. “There’s a guy I’ve been sort of seeing. I’ve crashed with him the past couple nights.”

  Perfect. When she thought of the lineup of guys that had paraded in and out of Kara’s life, it was like a lineup of America’s Most Wanted, and that was so not a complication she needed. “Are you kidding me right now?”

  “You’d like him, Hope. And it’s not like what you’re thinking. He’s the perfect gentleman. In fact…” Kara glanced over her shoulder and scanned the room before waving over a middle-aged guy in a striped tie. “You can meet him right now. Be nice or I’ll kill you.”

  As the man approached, Kara stood and took his hand. What in the world? This was so not her usual fare. This guy was clean cut, with short dark hair, a faint goatee, and a bit of a stomach folding over his khakis. “Hope, this is Elliot. He’s one of the managers.”

  “The night manager. It’s so nice to meet you,” he said cheerfully and then marveled as he studied Hope. “Wow. You two look so much alike. I knew Kara had a twin, but it’s different to see in person.” Elliot pumped her hand, grinning the whole time. He was personable. And normal. And he had a job. She felt like she’d entered the twilight zone. But you know what? Maybe this wasn’t such a bad twilight zone.