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“You might be new, but you’re one of my best girls.” She pursed. “Now, don’t just stand there. Get over here and whip these two into shape.”
Milly and Natasha gawked at me, and I offered them a warm smile, trying to reassure them. Mary could be a little 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 host the event. Touch of Class was to provide drinks and food service for the evening.
Her 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 Mary. 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 the glamor, I was intrigued—and maybe even a little excited—to experience a world so very different from my own.
Until Tara delivered four little words that left me with a sour taste in my mouth and a sinking feeling in my stomach.
“The piranhas are here.”
* * *
I heard them before I saw them.
The high octave of their laughter got louder as I worked my section of the room, offering guests crystal flutes of champagne. I smiled in all the right places and only spoke when spoken to. And while I could hear them, I couldn’t spot them in the crowded room.
Until I heard one of them say, “He won’t be able to resist tonight.”
I wasn’t purposely eavesdropping; they were that damn loud.
“Do you think he’s getting cold feet? It all happened pretty quickly?” another one said.
“Not really, Jenna. We both knew this was coming. Our fathers had this all planned out; besides, we’re perfect for each other.”
I swept around the group I’d just finished serving and spotted them against the wall: Brittany Arnold and her friends. I had run into them at more than one event—the piranhas.
According to Tara, her family was from old money, born and bred in Upper Arlington. Trent Arnold, Brittany’s father, was CEO of Arnold Holdings.
“Oh look, it’s Penelope.” Brittany’s voice dripped with contempt, but I let it roll off me.
Mostly.
My gaze snagged on the huge rock on her ring finger, and I shuddered inwardly.
Who could possibly love someone like her?
I had yet to witness one single redeeming quality in her. Sure, she was beautiful and never looked anything less than runway-worthy, but beneath all that makeup and money was a cold-hearted, vapid bitch.
Feeling riled, I bit out, “It’s Penny, actually.” I immediately regretted it, and in an attempt to recover my slip, I plastered on a fake smile and said, “Champagne?”
If there was one thing I’d learned quickly during my time working for Touch of Class, it was that you didn’t question these people and you never, ever corrected them.
The girls each helped themselves to a glass while Brittany’s eyes burned into me as I tried to look anywhere but at her.
“My mistake, Penny.” She laughed but it was full of venom. “I just love what you’ve done with your hair. It’s very, what do you call it? Trailer-chic.”
My heart thudded in my chest.How dare you,I wanted to say. But I’d lose more than my cool if I did. So I simply smiled and turned to leave.
Brittany had other plans though.
She stepped to the side, effectively blocking my path. I tried to veer around her, but she stuck out her foot right as I moved.
It happened in slow motion. I began to fall, the silver tray clattering to the floor, glass shattering everywhere. All heads turned to me as I landed with a resoundingcrack, my knees smarting on the expensive parquet floor.
I heard the gasps and low whispers, the odd snicker, but only one voice perforated the blood roaring in my ears. “You really should watch where you step,Penelope.”
