by L A Cotton
“Whoa, did you see that? The dude has a driver. Who the fuck has a driver?”
Ben shrugged and answered, “Someone with money, I guess. What do you think, Blake?”
Not taking my eyes off the car as it rolled away, I said, “I have no fucking clue.”
I didn’t, but my gut told me it wasn’t good.
The feeling didn’t leave me for the rest of the day.
I kicked open the door to my apartment. Grease and egg rolls assaulted me. The lavender air fresheners had obviously masked the smell more than I realized. My feet shuffled through a summer’s worth of mail, and I dropped my bag on the floor by the counter.
Welcome home.
I took in the space before me. Somehow, it looked worse since returning from Camp Chance. What did that say about the place if a wooden cabin in the middle of nowhere was the nicer option?
The door knocked behind me, and Mr. Chen appeared. “Hello, Miss Penny. You return from good summer?”
Nodding, I smiled and motioned for him to come in. He shook his head. “Ahh, no. Just come to say hello. Welcome back.” He disappeared back down the stairwell, and I closed the door.
For as much as I hated this place, part of me was relieved when Mr. Chen agreed to let me pay half rent for the weeks I was gone. He even said I could pay upon my return, but I had a small amount of money saved. The thought of having to try to find another place to live was not something I wanted to deal with anytime soon.
Before I went in search of lavender air fresheners, I retrieved my cell phone from the drawer and turned it on. There had been no need for me to take it to camp with me because only a handful of people had my number. The screen flashed to life and it bleeped.
I miss your face already.
I smiled at Marissa’s text and typed out a reply, and then set about making my apartment habitable again. It didn’t take long to replace all of the dried-up air fresheners, and when I was satisfied the smell of fried food was almost unnoticeable, I carried my bag into my small bedroom and unzipped it. My eyes fell straight to the small white envelope.
There was a cell phone number with Blake’s letter. Tina confirmed it was his number but said I should him give some time before trying to contact him. She wouldn’t tell me anything else, but I didn’t need her to. Blake had told me there was someone else in his life, and now, it all made sense. I suspected he had pulled away because of his own guilt; only, I had wrongly assumed it was guilt over what Derek tried to do to me. Now, I realized it was guilt over the person in his life. A girlfriend, a fiancée… wife. Either way, it didn’t matter. I couldn’t sit around waiting and hoping Blake would take care of things.
I wouldn’t.
The doorbell chimed as I entered Vrai Beauté, and Tiffany looked up from her position at the counter. “Ahh, Penny.”
Well, that didn’t sound good.
“Hi, Tiffany. How are you?” I said politely ignoring the alarm bells ringing in my head. She rounded the counter mumbling something to Kylie and ushered me to the side so we weren’t blocking the entrance.
“Penny, I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”
She didn’t?
“I got back yesterday.”
“And how was it? Enlightening?”
I bristled at the hint of sarcasm in her voice. Usually, I would have dropped it, but something in me refused to stay quiet. Proud of what I achieved over the summer, I wasn’t going to let her belittle me. Rolling back my shoulders, I replied, “It was very enlightening actually. I had an amazing experience.”
Tiffany’s face creased. “Well, isn’t that just lovely. What can I do for you, Penny?” She sounded almost bored.
“I’m here to check my shifts.”
“You really should have called ahead, Penny. Just dropping in like this…” she trailed off. I looked over her shoulder at Kylie, but she dropped her head.
“What’s going on, Tiffany?”
Tiffany blew out a dramatic breath. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to let you go, Penny. Kylie did such an excellent job filling in for you, and really, she’s a better fit for the shop. I’m sorry.”
Tears pooled behind my eyes and my whole body shook with frustration, but I calmly said, “Well, in that case, I’ll be out of your hair.” I turned on my heels not giving her or Kylie a backward glance. I walked out of Vrai Beauté with my head held high.
My composure crumbled the second I reached the end of the block. As soon as I turned the corner, the tears rushed out with such force that my body wracked violently. People on the sidewalk slowed as they passed me, but no one stopped to ask if I was okay. Giving myself a few seconds to get it out of my system, I turned my back to the road and tucked myself into the wall. My fingers scrambled to find a tissue in my purse, and I dabbed my eyes unsure if my tears were from losing my job or anger at myself for actually believing Tiffany would hold it. She had never liked me, only tolerated me, and I knew I didn’t fit in with her shop’s standards. I wasn’t pretty enough, well put together enough… just not enough.
Stupid, stupid Penny.
When the ugly tears stopped falling, I smoothed down my coat and walked the rest of the distance home. Usually, I would have taken the bus, but Mom always used to say ‘the fresh air is good for the soul,’ and right now, I would take anything I could get.
As I walked listlessly along the sidewalk, my thoughts turned to my predicament. What in the hell was I supposed to do with no job? The money I’d earned from Camp Chance would cover two months of rent. If I couldn’t find something before then, being fired from Vrai Beauté would be the least of my problems.
A sign for an internet café caught my eye from across the street.
Nothing like the present.
I crossed the road, went into the café, and paid the guy for an hour. Within thirty minutes, I had a list of names and numbers to call. The most promising was an agency looking for spare hands for local events. They needed servers and kitchen staff, that kind of thing. I had some kitchen experience, but the ad sounded desperate, and desperate was something I knew all about.
“Penny Wilson.” I gave the security man my name. “I’m here for the banquet. I’m one of Mary’s girls.” I cringed; it made it sound like I was here to give out lap dances not serve canapés to rich folk who liked the finer things in life.
The security man checked his list and then thumbed me inside. “You need to follow this corridor to the end, and the kitchen is back there.”
I nodded and scurried past him, smoothing down my knee-length black pencil skirt. ‘All I need from you is a pair of hands, a smart dress, and black pumps on your feet. You think you can handle that?’ Mary had asked me during my five minute ‘interview.’ I was beginning to wonder what I’d gotten myself into when she texted me the address of my first job at the Hyatt Regency in Upper Arlington. But she was offering more money an hour than I’d earned at any of my previous jobs. It was too much to turn down even if the thought of serving drinks and canapés to a bunch of wealthy businessmen and their wives made my stomach churn.
The kitchen was manic. Chefs in white jackets yelled out orders to a sea of black and white lingering around the service area. The hotel was hosting some charity event. It was a drinks reception followed by a five-course, sit-down meal. I was down to serve drinks. Drinks, I thought, I could handle. Food service, not so much—or not yet, at least.
“You.” A tall girl, probably not much older than me, pointed at me and frowned. “Dump the bag and jacket and grab one of those trays of salmon mousse and follow me.”
I glanced around hoping she was talking to someone else, but everyone around me was busy.
Well, okay then.
“Move it,” she snarled. “We have hungry rich folk to feed.”
Ignoring her jibe, I slipped out of my jacket and wrapped my purse inside. It only had my cell phone and some change for the bus ride home.
“Lockers are back there,” the girl said, the annoyance in her voice growin
g.
I hurried to a locker to shut away my belongings and returned to the kitchen. The girl thrust a tray of mousse-topped crackers at me and motioned for me to follow her. I was so stunned that I didn’t even think to inform her I was supposed to be doing drinks. But the tray was small, and I figured how hard could it be?
We exited a swinging door and entered a huge room with floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking a courtyard. The gold and deep red accents gave the whole place a regal feel, but the interior design didn’t ooze money, the people did.
Ladies were in an array of beautiful dresses and skirt suits, and the men they clung to were sculpted in perfectly tailored suits. It wasn’t quite black tie, but for lunchtime on a Friday afternoon, it didn’t get much more formal.
Suddenly feeling inferior in my plain black skirt, crisp white shirt, and last-minute chignon, I lowered my eyes to avoid making eye contact.
“You take the left side, and I’ll do this side. Once you’re empty, go and grab a fresh tray. Got it?” the girl said in a hushed voice. I nodded. “And watch out for the piranhas, they bite.” She glided away from me and moved to the other side of the room.
Piranhas?
Stealing a quick deep breath, I readjusted my hand supporting the tray and approached a small group of people. They were laughing at something one of the men was saying. I waited for him to finish before stepping closer.
I cleared my throat and said meekly, “Canapés?”
Shit, was that the right thing to say? I didn’t even know what I was serving. I doubted ‘would you like a salmon mousse on some kind of cracker’ would cut it with these people.
Five faces turned in my direction, and my mouth dried. Sure they could see right through my lack of on the job training or experience, I was surprised when an older woman dressed in a navy skirt and jacket combo with silver-gray hair smiled at me and said, “Why, that would be splendid, dear.”
Her friends nodded in agreement, as they helped themselves to the salmon mousse crackers. I smiled back politely and moved to the next cluster of people relieved at how easy they had made it.
For the next fifteen minutes, I worked my side of the room offering people various canapés. There was the salmon mousse thing, some kind of wasabi prawn, and a mackerel pate concoction that made me want to hurl. On the whole, people were polite.
Until I reached the piranhas.
I knew instantly it was the people the other waitress had referred to. Gathered in the far corner of the room, there were four girls around my age. Each had perfectly styled hair to match their perfectly manicured nails and seamless, figure-hugging dresses. Their leader, a slim blonde covered in a long sleeved black lace overlaid dress smirked as I approached them.
“Oh, ladies, look, canapés,” her sickly sweet voice dripped with bitterness.
I offered them the tray of prawns and smiled. “Wasabi prawn?”
They each helped themselves. The blonde inspected her prawn up close, and then curled her lip in disgust. “There’s a hair on it. What’s your name?”
“My- my name?” I stuttered.
“Yes, your name? What’s wrong with you? Do you have a speech impediment?” Her friends snickered, and my cheeks exploded with embarrassment. “Well? What is it?”
“Penny, my name is Penny.”
“Well, Penny…” She stepped forward peering down at me. Her heels gave her a good two inches over my five-foot-six. “Take this back to the kitchen and tell the chef I’d prefer a little less hair with my prawn.” She dropped the canapés onto the tray and rubbed her hands together in disgust. I turned on my heels and fled from the room as quickly as I could without attracting attention, tears stinging the back of my eyes.
Once behind the sanctuary of the kitchen door, I dropped the tray on the counter and leaned back against the tiled wall. The waitress from earlier noticed me and came over. “Let me guess, the piranhas?”
I nodded.
“Don’t let them get to you. If you show weakness, Brittany and her little friends will chew you up and spit you out.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.” I glared at her a little pissed she threw me to the wolves on my first shift.
“Hey, I’m not here to babysit you. If you can’t deal, Mary has another ten girls ready to take your place.”
I dropped my head to my chest feeling defeated. I needed this job.
“Look, go back out there and show them they can’t break you. I’m Tara, by the way.”
“Penny,” I whispered.
“Don’t let them break you. It’s your first shift.” With that, Tara replaced her empty tray with a full one and returned to the room.
Don’t let them break you.
She was right. Brittany was no one to me. Just another self-entitled bitch thinking she was better than everyone and everything. She didn’t know anything about my life or me.
I grabbed a fresh tray of canapés and smoothed down my blouse and skirt with my free hand.
I could this.
I could so do this.
After my shift at the Hyatt, Mary called me on my birthday to say her eyes had given me the thumbs up. Turns out her ‘eyes’ were Tara. She had been testing me. And thanks to her little pep talk, I passed and Mary started booking me for regular functions. Sometimes, it was providing catering assistance to high-profile clients at business meetings in downtown Columbus, and other times, I worked more formal functions like the one at Hyatt Regency. But they all had one thing in common: The clients were wealthy. Worlds apart from the life I lived. At least it gave me an excuse to actually celebrate turning twenty-four. Usually birthdays went unnoticed in my life.
During my fourth week of working for her, Mary called me in to cover a charity event at the Arlington Country Club. It was my first black tie dinner gala, and the organizers of the event, West Lake and Associates, provided us with a uniform. The prestigious law firm was hosting the event to raise money for a new state-of-the-art medical center, and according to Mary, everyone who was anyone in Columbus was going to be there.
I rechecked my appearance for the third time. The black pleated skirt framed my legs making them appear longer and the white cap sleeve blouse hugged my chest a little too tightly. To my relief, the black waistcoat fit perfectly making me feel less exposed. Female staff had been instructed to wear their hair in a sleek braid down their backs. Our instructions had been so specific, right down to the shoes we had to wear—black three-inch pumps—that I wondered who these people were.
The ride to the Country Club took almost half an hour by the time I’d caught the connection. Marissa kept me company with her play-by-play text messages. She was on a date with a guy she had been seeing since we returned from Camp Chance. Although from the length of her messages, I gathered it wasn’t going all that well.
Have you contacted him yet?
I rolled my eyes at Marissa’s text. That was her style. Lull you into a false sense of security and then wham, hit you with the million-dollar question. The answer was always the same. No, I had not contacted Blake. I didn’t know if I ever would.
After typing out a quick reply saying that I had arrived, I switched off my cell phone and tucked it into my purse. The bus stopped just outside of the vast grounds, so I’d left in plenty of time to find the main building. When I climbed off the bus, I headed in the direction of the country club. It was a members-only establishment on the outskirts of the city surrounded by luscious green golf courses. The clubhouse was located in the middle of the grounds at the end of a long, winding driveway. Forty minutes early, I took a steady walk to my destination.
Mary was on point tonight. She usually left things to Tara or a girl named Felicia, but West Lake was one of Mary’s biggest clients and she couldn’t afford to have any slip-ups. I felt the usual flutter of nerves in my stomach but quickly shook them off. This was a good gig. Sure, I had to mingle with high society, but aside from the occasional piranhas like Brittany, the majority of people we served didn’t pay u
s any attention. We were invisible; there to serve and not be seen or heard. It suited me.
“You’re early.” Tara met me at the kitchen entrance and stepped aside to let me through. “Mary’s inside getting herself worked up. It’s not like we haven’t done this kind of thing before.”
I had a strange relationship with Tara. Ever since that first shift when she had warned me about Brittany and her friends, she’d kind of taken me under her wing without really befriending me.
Mary was pacing when I entered the kitchen. She looked up and her eyes sparkled. “Ahh, at last someone who knows what they’re doing. Penny, can you go over the order of service again please with Milly and Natasha.”
Me? I looked at her with wide eyes.
“You might be new, but you’re one of my best girls. Now, don’t just stand there. Get over here and whip these two into shape.”
Milly and Natasha grimaced, and I half-smiled at them trying to reassure them. Mary was overwhelming. Like a mother who found it hard to let go but wanted her children to fly on their own all at the same time.
I spent the next ten minutes talking Milly and Natasha through the order of service. The gala was a five-course, sit-down meal followed by a silent table auction. West Lake had hired some B-list television personality to emcee the whole event. Touch of Class, Mary’s company, was to provide drinks and food service for the evening.
Mary’s words lingered in the back of my mind and a sense of pride took root in my chest. Despite my rocky start at the Hyatt, I liked working for Touch of Class. I’d come a long way since my days of hiding behind the scenes and pot washing in a hotel kitchen, and I was eager to work my first black tie event. The dresses, the glitz and glamour, I was intrigued—and maybe even a little excited—to experience a world so very different from my own.
