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My decision.
Somehow, I knew all along that when born into a family of this kind of corrupt power, no one was truly in control over their lives.
“Set up the meeting but I’m not promising anything.”
With that, I walked out.
CHAPTER 5
Margot
I, Margot Rollins, will get through today.
Every day I issued the same words because every single day I was exhausted, perhaps more so than the day before. Sadly, today was no different. I wasn’t just burning the candles at both ends. I was creating firestorms capable of burning down an entire city.
“Are you okay?” Emily asked as she flanked my side. At least my diner working buddy had a friendly voice, which some days was rare.
Perhaps she’d asked for the third time this afternoon since I’d already dropped two plates and a bottle of ketchup that had exploded on my uniform, and was continuously missing one saltshaker or another as I’d attempted to refill them before I could head to my second of three jobs for the day.
“Peachy. Why do you ask?” I answered, using my forearm to brush sweat off my brow. I heard the door open, the jingling bell over it giving every employee the heads up we either had a new customer, or one was leaving. Just in case we needed to chase after them because they’d tried to skip out on their bill. I’d had two try the week before, including stiffing me on my tips.
And I’d dared grab a cup of my favorite mocha latte from a tiny little coffee shop near my mother’s apartment building, spending the last little bit of cash I carried in my purse. It had been a frivolous indulgence, but I’d wanted something small just for me. Now I knew why I tried to refrain from silly purchases. However, that didn’t make it acceptable for people to run out without paying their tabs.
I knew times were tough. God knows I’d gotten that memo years before, but you had to pay to play, or in this case, eat. Sometimes what I made in tips during my shifts meant eating or not eating for the week. Sighing, I glanced in the direction of the door, groaning since it was a brand-new customer who’d sidled up to the counter, already becoming impatient because neither my bestie or I were johnny on the spot.
“You’re more on edge today than normal. What gives, girl?”
I slammed the huge bottle of salt back into the plastic tub before answering. “Maybe because I haven’t gotten any sleep in four nights or the fact the final rehearsal for the play is this afternoon. It’s only the biggest opportunity of my career. If I fuck it up, I’ll be shoved back into being given parts that have no speaking lines.”
“You’re going to do great! You’re a fabulous actress.”
“Right. Tell that to the critics.” I gritted my teeth, my last and only performance where I’d been second to the lead had been marred by the critic stating I had no talent and should consider another career such as basket weaving. Okay, so I’d refused to go on a date with the man, but he’d actually used that term in his article online, a piece everyone had seen including the director.
“You will do fantastic. I’ll take the new customer. The lady in booth ten was asking to see you.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the woman sitting near the back door. She’d barely said two words other than asking for coffee. Maybe she needed a refill. We were in a part of Kansas City where we seemed to attract a lot of transients, men or women just trying to get in from the cold or heat. At least I wasn’t the only one who had difficulty paying rent on time.
If I wasn’t careful, my landlord would make good on the eviction notice he’d threatened last week. This play had to work. I needed bigger parts. Hell, maybe I needed a CAT scan for thinking I could make something of myself in this lousy town.
Granted, I certainly couldn’t leave, not with my mother facing one treatment after another. “I appreciate that.” I put down the last shaker, grabbing the coffeepot, rubbing my sweaty hand down my apron before walking from the back of the long counter toward her.
“Can I get you something? A refill?”
The woman remained in dark sunglasses, her hair covered in a scarf even though it was lovely and mild outside. Maybe she was running from the cops. I bit back a smile from the thought. I could figure out when a person was down on their luck easily by the clothes they wore or maybe a watch on their arm. And of course, having ratty bags of possessions was a dead giveaway that they were homeless.
This woman was anything but. The coat covering her attire was designer, similar to one I’d seen in a favorite magazine of mine. The watch on her slender arm was Cartier, top notch with diamonds encompassing the bezel. Even the sunglasses cost over five hundred dollars. I couldn’t help but try to conjure up a sexy yet tragic story about her. Like she was a runaway bride trying to figure out her next steps in life.
She lifted her head slowly and I could sense she was studying me intently. “What’s your name?” she asked, her voice soft and silky like the kind you heard on exotic perfume ads on television.
“Margot.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. Are you okay? Is there anyone I can call for you?” I asked, finding it odd I was concerned about her.
She allowed a slight smile to cross her face, but it quickly disappeared. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
I could detect a slight accent, although I wasn’t certain what nationality. I had a sense she was sophisticated, highly educated. I don’t why it mattered to me. “Coffee?”
