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Grace made herself smile back. This woman gave off a good vibe. She probably made a lot of money as a bartender. It was a skill. Grace knew that because she’d tried her hand at it and failed. People just didn’t like her. But this woman… She was comforting. “Are you Jenny?”
“I am.”
“Rayleen told me to ask you for a key to apartment A?”
“You?” Jenny asked. Her eyes nearly disappeared when she laughed. “You’ll be quite a change.”
“Do I need to check the place for hidden cameras?” she asked, only half joking.
“You’re probably safe. She just likes to collect them, I think, not spy on them. Nothing too creepy.” Jenny hit a button on the register and the drawer popped open.
“It seems plenty creepy,” Grace muttered.
“She’s pretty harmless. They like to come over here and tease her, but she calls them puppies and tells them to leave her the hell alone.” Jenny held out the key and dropped it into Grace’s hand. “Welcome to Jackson.”
“Thank you.” That was it. No paperwork. No contracts or legal indemnification. “Do you know anyone who’s hiring?”
“Summer’s a little tight and we’re getting to the end of it. What do you do?”
Grace shrugged. “Waitressing. Busing tables. I’ve done some cleaning.”
“Anything else? You look like a woman who might have other skills.”
For a moment, Grace’s blood froze. What did that mean? Other skills? Stripping? Turning tricks? She knew she looked a little harder than people in Wyoming, but she hadn’t expected to be confronted with the same shit she’d lived with on the streets of L.A.
“Have you worked in clothing stores?” Jenny continued, as friendly as before.
Grace blinked. Is that what she’d meant? Something so innocuous? “Uh, sure. I worked in a vintage place when I was young. And I do makeup.”
“Makeup?”
“I work as a makeup artist. In L.A.”
“Oh.” Jenny’s eyes widened. “That’s really cool.”
“But not very useful in Wyoming.”
“Maybe, but it’s got to pay better than waitressing in a tourist town.”
“That depends,” Grace said.
“On what?”
“On whether you can avoid pissing off the fifty different people on a movie set who can get you fired.”
Jenny laughed. “Well, maybe you should go see Eve Hill. She’s a photographer and she’s pretty nice. She might have work for you.”
Grace made an effort not to look doubtful, but she’d almost rather be a waitress than do bridal makeup for wedding shoots. “What kind of photography?” she asked warily.
“I’m not sure. She does some landscape stuff on her own. Sells it in town here, but she does other things, too. Photo shoots for magazines.”
“Here?”
The doubt must’ve been showing clearly now, because Jenny shook her head and offered a look of friendly patience. “We might be in the middle of nowhere, but there’s money here. Lots of money and lots of those people you know from L.A. They like to come and ski and play dress-up, and they like to have a reason to be here. Film shoots and fashion campaigns provide that.”
“Right. Yeah. Okay, I’ll look her up.”
“Do that. And if that doesn’t work out, I’ll let you know the good places to be a server here, and the places you want to avoid.”
