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“Okay. I mean, I’ll try, but if anyone gets handsy with me, they’re getting a bottle over the head.”
Cassie laughed. “Here, I’ll help you get the Dom ready.”
I was halfway through the shift when they came in. Cassie hustled over to me.
“Here, put that down.” She pried the silverware I was polishing out of my hands. “We need to attend to VIP guests.”
“The other guys weren’t VIPs?”
She snorted. “Not even remotely. They were just regular members who like to flash their cash. The family that just came in are cash cows. The Andersons are really involved in the club’s management, too. No one gets approved for membership without Mr. Anderson’s okay.”
Anderson? She must mean Soren, Beckett’s dad.
Cassie started across the floor, hissing at me to follow. I trudged out to the main bar area, and we approached the table. I could see the back of Soren’s dark head. His wife Colette was with him.
Cassie strode right up to the table and smiled at them both. “Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson. What can we get for you tonight?”
Soren glanced at her, seeming slightly annoyed to be disturbed when he was talking.
“A bottle of Rémy Martin, the Louis XIII, no ice.” His gaze moved past Cassie and fell on me. A jolt of recognition went through him.
I hadn’t expected that.
“Ms. Martino? This is a surprise.”
At Soren’s words, Colette twisted her elegant neck to stare at me. “Martino?”
Cassie pushed me forward. “Yes, this is Eve. She’s trying out for a position tonight, to see if she’s a good fit.”
My cheeks were heating under the scrutiny of three people.
“Miss Martino, your family does get around, doesn’t it?” Colette said. The casual barb was like a lance, pinning me to the spot. “There’s hardly an odd job in town where I can’t run into you.”
“Run into each other often, do you?” Soren asked, glancing between us.
“Not that often,” I supplied. My heart was pounding. I felt like Colette was staring daggers at me and I didn’t know why. “I met her at the hospital when I tried to visit Beck.”
“He lets you call him Beck?” Colette interjected rudely. Her assessing stare was making me sweat.
I shrugged. “Sure.”
Silence fell, Colette’s question having killed the conversation.
“Well, good luck, Ms. Martino,” Soren said after an awkward moment.
I was so flustered, I performed a strange half bow and backed away. “Thank you, Mr. Anderson.”
I’d had more than my share of drama with the Anderson family and just wanted to hide in a cupboard somewhere. They were everywhere. I needed a break from them.
I threw myself into my shift and was thrilled to find that the few tables I’d served solo had left hefty tips. All in all, I’d go home with over $100 for one shift. That was big money for me.
I was still flying high, counting my tips for the third time, when a text came through from Isabelle.
“Party Saturday night, the Omega Psi Zeta House on Greek Row. You have to come.”
I messaged her back. “I’m working until ten.”
“Okay, Grandma, no party begins before then. I’m really going to have to teach you to party, aren’t I? You’re a freshman in college, and there’s a Greek party that we are invited to, thanks to Warner. My cousin might be a meathead, but he’s good for some things.”
