Page 21
“What are you doing here, Jasper?” I ask, studying him in his worn jeans and faded hoodie. “You should head home. I need you to be rested for tomorrow. You know how busy the weekend gets.”
“Uh, yeah, I was about to leave,” he says, shuffling his feet.
I can tell he has more on his mind. I let him work up the courage to speak whatever’s got him nervous.
“Chef, I was just wondering if I could use the kitchen a bit. I want to try a dish I saw in class, and well, my place doesn’t have enough space. I’ve got my own ingredients, and I swear I’ll clean up after.”
His request isn’t unusual. I’ve had such requests before, with staff asking to bake birthday cakes for their families or practice a dish. They’re welcome to as long as they clean up. Hell, I’ve used it myself after hours to develop menus and once to make Bishop something he pretended not to be moved by.
“Of course, you can. Is it something you want help with? I could—”
“No,” he hurries to say. “I—I just need to do it on my own. That’s how you learn, right?”
“Sure.” I smile at him. “Make sure to clean up after. I’ll be back in an hour to lock up. That enough time?”
He nods frantically, relief crossing his face. “Yes, thank you.”
I pat his shoulder on my way out, choosing to trust he’ll do as promised. I step into my office to change out of my whites and grab my coat.
On the way, I do what I’ve done every night for three weeks now. I stop at the walk in, put my head in, and check the bottom shelf.
Empty tonight. It usually is. Twice it hasn’t been.
When I step out into the restaurant, Bishop isn’t waiting, which I find odd. He always waits after my shifts and walks me up to his penthouse or my room before heading back down to the casino floor.
I run into Kira instead.
“Hey,” she laughs when we nearly collide. “Are you heading out? Need help closing up?”
“I’m not leaving just yet. I’m letting Jasper use the kitchen for a project. I’ll be back to lock up when he’s done. I guess I have to figure out what to do until then.”
“I bet Mr. Cassidy could help you with that.”
I flush, shaking my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“C’mon now, it’s an open secret that the two of you are a thing.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to deny it, but we haven’t exactly been discreet. I don’t know what to call what Bishop and I have. We’ve shared meals and a bed and have had more sex than I knew was structurally possible. We’ve lain awake, cuddled in his bed, talking about everything except the one thing. That’s a relationship, right?
Except we’ve never once said the word out loud, and I know what I feel, and I have no idea whether he feels it back.
“It’s still really new,” I tell her. “We haven’t talked about what we are yet.”
“Hmm, that’s what I said when I met my husband, and five years later, I have miniature versions of him crawling around and drooling on my expensive sofa.” She sighs, but I can read the love in it. I’ve met her husband and her kids, and she adores them. “Falling in love is a beautiful thing, isn’t it?”
I don’t answer, not certain I’m ready to admit anything out loud. She pats my arm like she didn’t need me to. “He was out here a few minutes ago, but floor security pulled him away. I figure something happened downstairs. You know how crazy things get on weekends.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard it’s chaotic.”
“Chaotic doesn’t begin to cover it,” she laughs. “Here, walk me out.”
We talk about her kids on the ride down. I get off on the ground floor while she carries on to the basement parking lot. I wave her off and head toward the casino.
I can’t believe it’s my first time down here.
The doors swish open, and I’m hit with a kaleidoscope of flashing lights and a wall of sound—rows of machines, screens ablaze with vibrant colors, the rhythmic clink-clack of payouts, people clustered around tables with faces ranging from grim concentration to open delight. Somewhere behind me a bachelorette party shrieks at a card table. The air is thick with perfume, tobacco, and something underneath it.
I can see how a person could lose a year in here.
