“Spectacular, huh?” he shot back.
Oh, I hoped I hadn’t oversold myself here. “May I show you?” I asked, gesturing toward the bar.
He seemed taken aback with my confidence. Maybe it was the haircut talking. I hoped I could deliver. He held open the pass-through counter and we both scooted in, with him leading the way. Leaning against the bar with his arms crossed, he called out to the blonde with a high pony tail on the other side of the bar, who was listening to a customer.
“Shelby, this is Elizabeth. She’s going to make a ‘spectacular martini.’ ”
“Have at it, girl,” Shelby smiled.
I quickly scanned the shelves, spotting what I’d need. Grabbing a martini glass, I filled it with a few ice cubes, and soda water and left it to chill. Next, I filled a martini shaker with ice, snatched a jigger and started measuring vodka, blue curaçao, and simple syrup. I popped the top on, and gave it a good fifteen second shake.
I eyed the manager; he seemed dubious. I dumped the icing water, with a nice shake to clear as much water from the glass, and poured the bright blue liquid into the frosty glass.
“Pretty short,” he snorted.
I shot him a cheeky grin and wink. “I’m not done.” I picked up the small bin of maraschino cherries and carefully poured a thin stream into the glass. Due to its density, it sunk straight off to the bottom, filling the bottom quarter of the glass. With the tongs, I popped in a cherry and slid the drink over to him.
He looked the drink over. “What do you call it?”
“A Firecracker. It’s more a Fourth of July drink, but –”
“That’s fine,” he said cutting me off. “Shelby, what do you think?”
“The drink’s got flair. Her technique could use a little work, but that’s easy.”
He reached over and tasted the drink. He smacked his lips. “Not bad,” then slid it over to Shelby.
She tasted it then licked her lips and took another sip. “I’d say it’s really good, John.” Ah, the angry man in charge is John. Okay.
Shelby and John grilled me on several other drinks, from a simple Old Fashioned and a Cosmo, to a White Russian. Then Shelby handed me the recipe book for some of the house specialty cocktails and asked me to mix up a couple.
“What’s your wine knowledge like?” she queried.
“More than adequate,” I replied confidently.
“What’s your favorite varietal?”
“Well, depends on what I’m eating, but my favorite ‘go-to’ is a red zinfandel or a Malbec, but on warmer days I’ll take an oaky chardonnay.”
My eyes darted between the two. John looked my resume up and down, and then me. He noticed the rings on my left hand. “You married?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“Hopefully that means you won’t be screwing the staff.”
“Omigosh, no!”
“I guess you’ll do. I don’t have any more time to waste on this. Can you start Thursday?”
“I’d like to clarify the pay.”
“Sixteen an hour. Forty hours a week. Plus tips. You’ll start on tables. The servers tip out fifteen percent when you move up to the bar.” He paused as if he expected me to complain or haggle. “Can you start Thursday?” he continued.
“Absolutely.”
“Be here at 10:30. The uniform is all black: shirt, slacks, no jeans, and shoes” he said, scrutinizing my shoes. “And I suggest more comfortable footwear. Don’t be late. And don’t give some lame L train excuse either!” he grunted, shoving a file folder at me. “Employment packet. Bring the papers all filled in on Thursday. And study our menu. Oh, do you have your certificate?” he asked, sticking his hand out to me. I stood rooted to the spot. “You are certified?” He glared at me, clearly exasperated.
“No, I’m not but –”
“Shit!” He sighed loudly and ran a hand through the little hair he had left. “We can register you. As long as you’re registered you’ll be good. You’ll be taking the next bartending class that’s available. I’ll let you know the time and place. Tuesdays will always be your days off, and one other day, which will fluctuate.”
I stood stunned, rooted to the spot. I just got a job. Not what I had gone for, but I got a job. Must have been the haircut.
I cautiously took the packet from him and slid it into my bag as we walked back to the hostess stand. I stood there for a moment before he barked again.
“What?”
“I’m hungry. I’d like to eat. May I have a table?”
“Fine, but your employee discount doesn’t start until after your 30 day probation.”
“Okay,” I smiled.
Twenty minutes later, I was eating a divine steak salad and enjoying a gorgeous glass of cabernet. I kept reaching up to my neck, thrilled with the absence of the hair that normally hung there. As I surveyed the tables all through the restaurant, I noticed that a majority of the clientele here were seemingly well-to-do business types. Many were on their smart-phones, or laptops, having a business lunch. I decided to pull out my iPhone to try and blend in.
I was not surprised to see another missed call from Greg, another one from my mother, one from Bradley… Oh, good grief. Did Greg call our kids about this? There were also a couple new text messages from Greg. The man never had the time to text and call me like this before. Figured. In the texts app, I ignored Greg’s ever growing list and opened the one from Jessica:
1:29PM
Hey, hon. You finally bit the bullet
and ran away? Best of luck, talk
to you soon!
I would have to call her later tonight and fill her in on my wild adventure of the past twenty-four hours. I started to contemplate my new job. A bartender. Well, hey, at least it’s in a nice place and not at all like any of the stuffy offices I’d applied to earlier today. And the tips in a place like this were probably pretty good too.
I took into account my projected wages, not including tips, and started to calculate how much that would boil down to in my paycheck so I could start to search for an apartment tomorrow. I figured the paycheck would pay for rent, my tips could pay for everything else. And I always had my inheritance fund if I came up short.
I tried not to feel too guilty that I would not even be staying in this job for a year, although part of me wondered if I would be here that long. I was tucking my iPhone back into my purse when I noticed someone at the bar looking at me. No, looking wasn’t the right word. Studying…inspecting…ogling was more like it. He wasn’t what I would call a pervert, but I was still more than a little uncomfortable with the untoward attention. I tried to look away but couldn’t.
He had startling handsome features that were familiar, but I couldn’t figure out why. He was probably ten years older than me, with salt-and-pepper hair, greyer on the sides and darker on top. His face was gorgeous with a chiseled jawline that perfectly displayed a warm and charming smile. His eyes were dark and intelligent. Even his nose had a graceful elegance. He was the sort of man you could just stare at, and he seemed confident enough that he wouldn’t mind one bit. Of course, dressed in the suit he was wearing, that fit him like a glove, who wouldn’t be confident. He must have had that suit custom made.
He simply sat at the bar practically ignoring the man sitting next to him, who was going on and on. Mr. Handsome paid little attention to him. All of his focus was on me. I felt nearly naked. I hope he’s not a regular.
“Can I get you some coffee and dessert? Ed Scott’s cheesecake is one of New York’s best,” my server offered as she cleared my dishes.
“As delicious as that sounds, I’d better not. I haven’t made it to the gym today,” I joked with her, pulling my eyes from the man at the bar. She was a sweet gal, maybe a couple of years younger than myself. “Just the check will be fine, thank you.”
After paying my check and leaving a nice tip for my server, I quickly made my way out onto the street. I had to get away from him. I don’t know why, but he made me nervous. Like
I wasn’t in control of myself with those dark eyes focused on me.
I headed toward the subway station a few blocks from the restaurant, but along the way I passed a real estate office, with the front window displaying many listings. Feeling bolstered from having landed a job, I decided to head in and check out rentals in the area.
Inside I was greeted by a woman who gave the impression that she’d rather be anywhere in the world than behind her desk, and that she’d been sitting at said desk for the better part of her life. She was shuffling through stacks of paper and muttering under her breath. Desperately hoping that she was not the agent I would be assigned to, I cleared my throat to get her attention.
She peered over her reading glasses, and looked me over. “Can I help you?”
Lunch meetings at Ed Scott’s were a luxury of the job, but once I saw her, I couldn’t focus. I was sure that what Peter was talking about was important, but I hadn’t heard half of what he said. And now, even after she left, I was still thinking about her.
I loved her short pixie cut showing off her delicate cheekbones and her beguiling eyes. And her skin was flawless. The way she kept running her fingers over her neck. God, how I wanted that to be my hand on her neck. I wondered what she smelled like… what she tasted like.
My cock was still twitching in my slacks as I thought about the way she chewed her lunch. Her full lips, her tongue darting out to catch a drop of dressing. I could just imagine how her plump lips and lithe tongue would look around what I wanted to feed her.
The smile she flashed at her server could light a room.
I see beautiful women all day. Part of the job. Nice work if you can get it. But there was something about her. Slightly awkward, yet elegant in the same breath. She didn’t just catch my eye, or make breathing a bit more labored, there was something oddly familiar about her. I couldn’t put my finger on it. And I was drawn to her like a bee to a rose. And I was hungry for her nectar.
I’ve not had her in the biblical sense. I was certain of that. Was she in the industry? If she worked in front of the camera, surely I’d recognize her. But perhaps behind? Not her attitude. No. Where did I know her from? It was going to drive me nuts!
I would love to get her in front of a camera. But not for the world to see, for my eyes only.
Looks like I would be a little more than a regular at Ed Scott’s. I just hoped I’d see her again.
CHAPTER 4
“I’d like to speak to someone about renting an apartment.”
“Sure thing, hon.” She leaned back in her chair to glance down a hallway, then picked up the phone and pressed a couple buttons.
“Sarah, a new client is in here in reception… A rental… I didn’t ask. That’s your job, darling… Yeah, good enough.” She hung up the phone and got up from her seat to come around her desk.
“I’m going to set you over here in a conference room. Sarah will be right with you. Can I get you something to drink? Water? Coffee?”
“I just had lunch, but thank you very much,” I replied. I followed the receptionist to a small room with a table and a phone.
I only waited two minutes before a young, petite woman, perhaps in her early twenties, came whirling through the door, laptop in hand. Her hair was pulled up in a hairstyle that I didn’t recognize. Must have been a heck of a day already for her. I stood to meet her.
“Hi. My name is Sarah Devereux. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. Please sit… sit. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Your receptionist already offered, but I’m fine. Thank you.”
Sarah plopped down in the chair opposite mine and let out a sigh. “Been one of those days already! Spring season can do that to the real estate market. What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t.” I smiled. I liked her. She reminded me of Jessica, always in a hurry and finding the glass half full. “It’s Elizabeth Fairchild.”
“So, Elizabeth, what are we looking for?” she asked, opening a file folder and filling in my name at the top of some sort of worksheet.
“Well, I was hoping you could help me find an apartment to rent.”
“Sure, I can do that. Is your husband joining us? Should we wait?” she asked, eyeing the door.
“My husband?” How rude! I thought. Why would she ask that? Did she ask all the women about their husbands?
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She gestured toward my left hand and the symbols that sat there. The rings that were meant to signify forever. “I saw your rings, and assumed… I’m…” she stammered, getting all red in the face.
“Oh, geez. No, I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect the question. I’m here on my own,” I answered, putting on my best game face.
Sarah seemed a little taken aback, but then stuck a big smile on her face and redirected her attention to the worksheet in front of her. “Okay, then. How long of a rental term are you looking for?” she asked.
Okay? Was it really okay that I left? What have I done?
“A year? Longer, shorter?” she asked, bringing me back to the table.
“Well, at least a month. But maybe two? Longer? Is that possible?”
“Of course. There are terms of all sorts out there. We’ll just have to see what the listings say. What else will you be needing in your apartment?”
About an hour later, after discussing the size of apartment I’d need, my budget and where I’d like to look, I was on my way back to the hotel. Sarah was going to schedule some appointments for us to go and see a few apartments the next day.
Returning to my hotel room, I was feeling quite accomplished. I was sure that it was going to take me a few days to find a job, yet here I was with a job, and going apartment hunting tomorrow. And I had only gotten lost twice today. Maybe I was more self-sufficient than I had been giving myself credit for.
I decided to take advantage of the fitness center in the hotel. since I wasn’t sure when I’d find time to exercise in the next few weeks. I shucked my outfit, put on shorts and a T-shirt, then headed downstairs. It was fun to not have to pull my hair into a ponytail to workout.
After a good three-mile run on the treadmill and some general nautilus weights, I was good and sweaty, feeling re-energized. I stopped at the snack store in the lobby, grabbing a yogurt, banana, and water, then headed back to my room to take a shower.
Squeaky clean, and dressed for bed, eating my ‘gourmet dinner,’ I put my big girl panties on. Toying with my new short locks, I grabbed my phone to listen to a few of the more than two dozen calls from Greg, my mother and Jessica that had come in throughout the day.
Greg’s calls were all over the map. Odd: “Who do you call for Chinese takeout?” Desperate: “Bets, I get it, you need a little break. Take your time. I’ll be here when you’re ready to come back home.” But that call was immediately followed by an irate: “Is there another man? Is that what this is about? Are you fucking another guy and you ran off together for some sick, romantic tryst? God help me if you’re sleeping with another man!”
I deleted the voicemails without listening to anymore. Yeah. I’m gonna call you when you’re unstable and accusing me of adultery. Another man?!?! Who did he take me for? At the mere mention of another many, my mind wandered to the gorgeous man sitting at the bar. However, I did not run off to be with another man!
I pushed those thoughts aside and sat to fill out all of the employment papers. Temporary address, permanent address, deductions and withholding calculations… All the blanks were making me nervous and my head spin. I was regretting even more my lack of real world work experience.
Wouldn’t it be nice to call Greg and have him help me fill these out, like he helped the kids with theirs? I had to mentally slap myself for that one! I was here to learn to stand on my own, not lean on someone else. I buckled down and filled in the blanks as best I could. When I felt they were good to go, I pulled out the restaurant’s menu and started to study.
I woke on Wednesday morning, without an alarm, at eight o’clock, to
find myself slumped over the menu and all the lights still on. I must have been more tired than I thought. I didn’t even remember closing my eyes.
I got up and dressed. The most exhilarating part of my morning was deciding how to style my hair. I opted for the soft blown look, and I was amazed that it had been as easy as Bobbie had said it would be.
After a light breakfast in the coffee shop near the hotel, which was much cheaper than the hotel’s restaurant, I met up with Sarah in the hotel lobby at ten o’clock. With any luck, I’d find an apartment.
By four-thirty, we’d been to seven different apartments. All were fully furnished, as I’d requested. Some way over budget, some on streets that left me nervous in broad daylight. One was a bit too far from work and had me concerned that I’d be late and give the dreaded “L Train excuse,” whatever that was.
Ultimately, I settled on a cute one bedroom apartment. It was tastefully decorated in neutrals and it was quiet. The unit was actually the most expensive one we saw, and the smallest, but it was the cleanest and safest. There was a rooftop patio, but it was closed today because it was being painted for the season, so we didn’t get to see it.
The kitchen was little more than an “efficiency,” barely big enough to make breakfast in, but it was updated, as was the bathroom, with this amazing waterfall shower head that I’d been trying to get Greg to install in our bathroom at home. The bed was very comfortable and new, still wrapped with packaging from the store. When we had stopped and talked to the doorman, Dominic, on our way in, he was as nice as could be. As we chatted, I noticed several residents come and go through the lobby, and they seemed quite pleasant. The whole building had a very quaint mood.
Back at Sarah’s office, she put in a call to the agent who was responsible for listing the apartment. Some quick talking on Sarah’s part, and it was a done deal. The best part was that I’d get to move in on Friday, which would save a bundle on my inheritance savings. After finalizing all the paperwork for the rental, with credit and background checks, it was a quarter after five.
Ditching The Dream (Dream Series) Page 4
