Zach is at the barbecue, grilling all manner of deliciousness, smoke and beef-scented steam stimulating my salivary glands. Maybe I’ll have one more hot dog.
There’s a chance I have an unusually large appetite for a woman my size. Okay, my appetite is enormous. Cali has never commented on it, but guys I’ve dated have made rude remarks. Let’s just say those asshats didn’t last long. I don’t date guys who think women should eat like rabbits, and I’m on the slender side anyway. Well, except for my boobs.
“What’s up, Gen?” Zach says happily as I approach. He turns one of the hot dogs, revealing a golden brown underside.
I glance at the others we’re with. “Are you the only one who knows how to cook?”
He laughs. “They know, but I do it better,” he says with a saucy grin. He gestures to the food on the grill. “Did you want more?”
I open my mouth to speak, but Zach focuses on something over my shoulder. “Give me a minute, okay? I think Mira’s telling the story about how our high school football coach got busted for letting a freshman twerk on him. I gotta hear this.”
Zach hands Lewis the barbecue tongs—where did he come from? I glance behind to make sure I’m not seeing double, but it’s only Nessa and Cali with Mira. Zach heads off, calling over his shoulder, “Man the ’cue, Lewis. Back in a sec.”
Lewis scrapes the edge of the utensil, removing black soot. He turns several hot dogs in a row. “What can I get you, Gen?”
My mind goes blank. These are the first words he’s said to me since I met him, though I feel like we’ve said and done more, as if we rounded second base without hitting first. It’s awkward.
“Um, just a hot dog.”
He looks at me from beneath his lashes. “How long are you staying in town?”
Is he asking to get to know me, or making idle chitchat? “I’m going back to Dawson at the end of August.”
Lewis nods. “Planning on getting in any of those hikes?”
A reference to the conversation from last night? The one he wasn’t a part of because he and Mira were bickering? Had he been listening? “Yeah, and running. The trails sound nice.”
Lewis slips a hot dog on a bun using the barbecue tongs and hands it to me while Zach walks up, shaking his head, a wry smile on his face. His eyes narrow on the food I’m holding. “Another one? Nice.” He nods in approval. “I like a girl who can eat.”
Heat radiates off my face, though I know he meant the comment good-naturedly.
Lewis passes the cooking reins to his friend and walks around the barbecue, placing a hand on my shoulder. He leans down and I’m hyperaware of the heat from his touch, the scent of pine and soap—his lips inches from my ear. “Maybe I can join you sometime.”
I look into his eyes. Seductive, flirty. This is officially a hit-on—with his girlfriend a few feet away. It’s so wrong I don’t even know where to begin.
He studies my features, head tipping back at the expression on my face. “Enjoy the barbecue,” he mumbles, mouth contorting into a grimace possibly intended as a smile, and walks away.
I can’t believe this. Am I some kind of cheater magnet? I breathe in and out to steady the shaking in my arms and throw out the uneaten food, unable to stomach it right now. I scan behind me for Cali.
Lewis nears Mira, but he peers out at the lake, his face tense, one hand jammed in his pocket, the other gripping the back of his neck. A lock of chocolate hair sticks up on the side of his head as if he scrubbed it with his fingers. Cali glances between me and Lewis.
I walk over and pull her to the side. “I have to leave. Now.” If I don’t, I might combust out of frustration.
Lewis doesn’t seem like a jerk, but he must be if he has a girlfriend and is asking to spend time with me.
So why is he such a temptation?
We make a hasty exit no one seems to notice, except the one person I’m trying to avoid. The heat of Lewis’s stare follows me all the way to the car.
“You okay?” Cali asks.
I nod, but no sound comes out.
“Gen, what the hell was that?” She strains to see the barbecue area and the person I’m not allowing myself to look at.
“Something that has to stop.”
Chapter Three
Slipping past the blackjack pit where Cali’s dealing this week, I walk up the few steps to the Mont Belle Lounge. A bartender with a reddish goatee and a receding hairline, dousing highballs with Triple Sec, glances up. The waitress across from him dismisses me with a glance and delivers her drinks.
“Execs are coming in for some kind of meet-and-greet,” the waitress tells me when she returns. Her name is Amber and she’s not handing off the lounge to me at the beginning of my shift like normal. “They need two of us for the party.” She pops a maraschino cherry in her mouth and chews while she talks. “I’ve got tables one through ten. You can have eleven through twenty, except fifteen. That customer’s mine until they leave.”
Like most Blue waitresses, Amber is pretty, with tawny, highlighted hair and blue eyes. She doesn’t look older than me, but she’s worked here a while. She has seniority, and that trumps all.
I glance at my area, located at the rear of the bar with the least amount of foot traffic. The only table occupied is the one Amber wants—and they have a bottle of Dom Perignon.
Of course. Dom sells for a couple hundred a bottle. The party will likely order another and Amber doesn’t want to miss out on a lucrative tip, even if technically she should hand over all my tables.
Sometimes I feel like I’m back in junior high. Everyone at Blue is out for themselves, cutthroat for popularity, or in this case, access to deep pockets.
It ends up not mattering. Executives soon jam Mont Belle, filling the tables, including my lowly ones in the rear. I’m happily adding up the tips I’ve earned so far and mentally applying it to my grad school fund, when the last person I want to see walks in.
I freeze, my heels sinking into the carpet. The A-hole, my two-timing ex, makes his way over, his pale hair purposely tousled, his too-far-apart eyes glinting like he sees something he likes. And yes, he walks like he’s got a rod up his ass. Thanks, Mom, for that mental image.
“Hey.” He checks out my uniform from top to bottom. “You look great. Didn’t know you were working at this place.”
My throat clenches. Somehow, ogling from my ex is worse than from a stranger. “What are you doing here?”
“Just hanging with the boys. No girls allowed … unless you want to join us?”
He cannot be serious.
I never called him out on the two-timing bullshit. He probably believes I’d go back to him. “I’m busy.”
His gaze dips to my chest and holds for an overlong moment. “You sure?”
The A-hole has never seen my boobs in the light. There’s a possibility I was uptight with him in the sexual department. I can see how the girls served up on a platter—thanks to my stupid uniform—would be an ogling opportunity too tempting to pass.
I still want to slap him. He screwed me over and he thinks he can waltz in here and pick me up?
I grind my teeth, mentally forming a cutting, ranting, screw-off reply—which takes too long because I’m no good at it—when Jaeger strides in.
I totally get why Cali flirts with Jaeger. He’s tall and built, and sort of difficult to miss.
Jaeger sweeps around and hugs me from behind, his mouth near my ear. “Play along. I’m your boyfriend until this loser takes off.”
I sag into his arms. Yes, the gods are watching over me today.
Cali was right. Jaeger and Mason are decent guys, even if things are a little awkward around Mason. I sort of dodged a kiss from him recently and he’s been avoiding me.
Jaeger’s laying it on heavy, nuzzling my neck. I’m trying not to laugh out of nervousness, and because Jaeger’s tickling the shit out of my skin. The A-hole’s face turns a purplish-red and he shifts from foot to foot, his jaw clenched.
“You think you
can get away for a couple of hours tomorrow afternoon?” Jaeger whispers as if we’re just hanging, drinking a beer, not trying to make my prick of an ex-boyfriend uncomfortable enough to leave. “There’s something I want to show Cali, and you’re her best friend … I want your approval.”
Wait—hold up. Jaeger and Cali flirt, but is he serious about her? Cali and her jerk boyfriend just broke up a few days ago, so she is single now … This could be so awesome.
I nod and smile lovingly at my not-a-boyfriend for my ex’s benefit, who is still here. Persistent much? Delusional?
“I’ll pick you up at lunchtime,” Jaeger says loudly.
The A-hole grunts and stomps off. Both of us ignore him, but the second he’s gone, Jaeger releases me, dropping his lover-like stance like an old T-shirt.
“Jaeger, that was amazing. How did you know to do that?”
His gaze flickers to Cali, who’s observing us from the pit. Is she upset? She looks upset. Jaeger flashes a broad smile my way. “Cali said you didn’t want that guy around.”
“Not at all, so thank you. I owe you one.”
“Nah.” He shakes his head. His eyes flicker to the side without quite catching on Cali this time. “But I could use your opinion. I was serious when I asked if you’re available tomorrow.”
“Totally, anything you want.”
“Great, except—um—maybe don’t mention it to Cali? I mean, she’ll know we’re going somewhere, but if you could keep what we do between us, I would appreciate it.”
“Okay.” Very mysterious, but whatever Jaeger’s about, it’s for Cali and I’ll help any way I can.
Jaeger takes off and I return to work, but my mind isn’t in it. It felt good to unleash some payback on my ex. True, I had help. Okay, a lot of help, but still, I’m fired up. I don’t like to think I cower before men, but the truth is, I tended to avoid confrontation with guys—disregarding warning signs and discovering too late that the A-hole had a girlfriend back home being a case in point.
I’m probably scarred from not having a father figure. Excellent.
A sharp pause in the atmosphere has my mind snapping to attention. The man I just served is staring, an indulgent smile playing along his lips. “Are you okay?”
“Sorry, what?” Jesus, get it together. Bad enough I let a guy nuzzle me during my shift. Executives are in the lounge. I need to keep my head in the game. These people could be the ones signing my paychecks.
“I asked your name.”
This man looks familiar. He’s wearing a loosened blood-red tie and white dress shirt, as though he just left his glass-encased office. I’m sure I’ve seen him in the lounge before. Good looking and young. Older than me, but not as old as the suits I typically serve.
The man he is with is equally put together, and they are totally out of place in my section at the rear of the bar. But between the executive meet-and-greet and our regulars, they didn’t have much choice.
“I’m Gen.”
His gaze slides over the length of me, then returns to my eyes. A calculating smile pulls the corners of his lips. “Jennifer?”
My shoulders curl in. “No, it’s Genevieve.”
“Where’re you from, Genevieve?”
“Dawson. I just graduated.” Dawson’s only a couple of hours away.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Drake Peterson, head of finance.” Literally signing my paychecks and I was zoning out in front of him. “How do you like working at Blue? Everyone treating you well?”
“They’re great.” No way am I telling this guy about the waitress pettiness.
“Good, well, maybe you’ll stay on. Some of the waitresses have been here a while, but with the right connections you can do well.” His gaze drops to my chest again. Gah.
Between my ex and now Drake, I’m being tested, I swear.
“Thank you. So far, I’m doing okay.”
In reality, I could use a break to regroup after the A-hole encounter. I glance at the time on my watch, which I remembered to wear for once. I typically rely on my iPhone, but given I can’t squeeze anything more than boobs and ass in this uniform, I’m rolling old-school.
I serve a few more customers and check in with Amber. She scowls as I give her the rundown before going on break. She’ll have to take over my shitty section for a while, which means more work, less money, and she’s understandably unhappy about it. Even with the exec overflow, the majority of my clients are low tippers.
On my way out, I notify my tables I’m leaving. “Amber will be your new server,” I tell Drake and his friend. “Is there anything else I can get you before I leave?”
“You’ve taken good care of us, Genevieve. Oh—” Drake reaches inside his coat pocket. “Don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything.” He hands me a business card, a thick gold band with a dark sapphire glinting on his finger.
I mumble “Thank you,” and walk away, shaking off the dirty feeling he gives me.
I peer across the floor before stepping down from the lounge and spy Cali dealing beside Zach. They’re busy shuffling and counting, or whatever it is they do, the pit boss hovering like a guard dog. I don’t want to get Cali in trouble, but I’d love to vent about the A-hole.
Cocktail waitresses move in and out around the blackjack tables, taking orders and clearing glasses. Nothing unusual about me going over there—unless the person serving Cali’s table sees me. A senior waitress might think I’m trying to steal customers and decide to haze me with something other than Disney princess references.
The things I stress about on this job—seriously junior high.
Screw it. I walk up to Cali’s table and wait off to the side. One of her customers leaves and I flag her through the hole in the crowd, mimicking biting into a sandwich. I gesture to the basement entrance and she nods stiffly—which is odd.
Cali is laid back. I’m the uptight one in our duo. Is she stressed? The place is packed tonight. Understandable if she can’t meet me, but I hope she does. The A-hole’s presence is cause for a best friend gossip session.
On my way to the employee door, I run into Nessa. She points to a hole the size of a fist in her pantyhose, a nylon run stretching the length of her leg and disappearing into her shoe. “Gotta change.”
“Impressive. How’d that happen?”
“Snagged it on a bottle opener I dropped,” she says as we make our way down to the basement. “What’re you up to?”
“Break. I needed one. My ex showed up and cornered me.” A repulsed shiver jolts my spine. I really owe Jaeger one.
“Oooh.” Her face scrunches. “That bad? You tell the guy you’re not interested?”
“I kind of froze. By the time I got it together, someone stepped in.”
I walk Nessa to the vending machine … yes, there’s a pantyhose vending machine. Nylons are a requirement with our uniforms, as if microthin material covering asscheeks will make the uniforms classier. Pantyhose mishaps like Nessa’s are a frequent occurrence.
She pushes in a few quarters and out pops a pair of extra-small, sheer black nylons. My mouth twists, the encounter with Drake Peterson nagging me. “Nessa, have you ever had an executive hand over his business card and offer to help you?”
“What?” she says with a shaky smile. She pulls the pantyhose from the box. “Um, no. When did that happen?”
“Right after my ex showed.”
She stares. “Okay, you have man problems.”
“Right?”
“Right.” She opens her locker and kicks off her heels. “Maybe you need to step up your inner lioness. You have this sweet, vulnerable disposition, which is kind of awesome because you’re beautiful and you don’t act like it, but people take advantage of that shit.”
Cali once told me I never showed the A-hole who I really am. She thinks I’m a badass because I kick her butt at sports, but that’s not saying much. Cali has no athletic skills.
“What do you mean?”
She tosses the mangled hose on the botto
m of her locker. “Escape your comfort zone and do something you’ve never done before, or would never do.” Her eyes light up. “Join a theatrical group, or sign up for online dating … scale a mountain.” She nods her head as if her ideas are brilliant. “Put yourself in a position that forces you to step out of your box. The confidence you build will reflect on the outside.”
I’m kind of wondering where Nessa is coming up with this stuff because she doesn’t look like a closet Buddhist, but she has a point. I don’t put myself out there enough—my mom had that market cornered.
I could try something new though. If showing outer confidence will help me cope with sleazy men, I’m all for it.
No way in hell am I joining a theatrical group—kill me now, please. But something that requires coordination? Not running, I do that every day and it’s not much of a challenge, but something I’m scared to try? Mountain climbing’s not a bad idea …
“Thanks, Nessa. I’ll think about it. I’d better get going, Cali’s probably waiting for me.”
Nessa waves me off and I book it to the cafeteria.
Cali managed to take a break and even found a table in the crowded room. She’s working on one of her intricate sketches, this one of a mountain landscape with a million of the tiny geometric shapes she uses to create images. I have no idea how she does it. Cali has serious artistic talent she never acknowledges. She calls her sketches “doodles,” and throws them out as if they’re trash. I’ve literally pulled the most beautiful picture of our college campus out of the garbage before. One of these days, I’m going to get her to realize how good her drawings are.
Cali finishes the last few shapes and sets the sketch aside. “What happened with the A-hole? I saw him swoop in, but I couldn’t get away just then.”
“He wanted to see what I was doing after work. As if I’d meet up with him …” I shake my head. Cali doesn’t say anything. “You okay? You seemed a little upset when I flagged you earlier.”
Blue Crush Page 3
