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“Don’t you dare eyeball my husband, you little Mexican whore!” she shrieks, lunging towards me with her outstretched hands curled into blood-red tipped claws.
Someone has clearly been taking advantage of the minibar this morning. Seeing Dr. Rosewood in all his barely covered glory, I can’t say that I blame her for that.
“I’m not looking at your husband, ma’am. I’m just trying to set your table.” I say, dodging out of her reach and setting the last covered plate on the table. “Please call down to the kitchen if you need anything else.”
Her husband snickers, he knows that she is awful, his eyes crawl over my exposed legs lasciviously, making me feel like spiders are crawling over my skin. I back away from him and put the cart between us. This stupid uniform barely covers my butt and makes me uncomfortable in the best of circumstances. I’m way beyond uncomfortable. I need to get out of here. Now!
Keeping the cart in front of me as a shield, I rush to the door and open it, in a hurry to make my escape.
“Have a nice day, Sir. Ma’am.” I rush into the hall with Mrs. Rosewood screaming profanities at me as I close it behind me with an almost inaudible click. I lean against the door for a long moment, breathing hard like I just finished running a race. My stomach hurts and my hands are trembling uncontrollably. That was awful. If the rest of the day is like this, there is no way I’m going to make it to the end of my shift without breaking down in tears.
Chapter Three
Blake
I’m nursing another bourbon, along with a damn good burger and hand-cut fries from the kitchen, even though it’s still a little early for lunch. Tina, the goth bartender, has been chatting me up between pouring rounds for the rest of the patrons. Vegas is weird. I’ve never seen such blatant disregard for time of day when it comes to drinking, but since I’m guilty of it too, I’ll ignore it. Tina’s proven to be a pretty friendly person, once you get past her intimidating looks. It’s not every day you see a heavily-tatted and facially-pierced bartender in an upscale establishment like this, but her drinks and service are stellar, so I can understand why Xavier has her on staff. She is also very observant, which I imagine is a plus in her line of work.
In addition to the way she kept an eye on the situation in the kitchen earlier, I’ve also seen her cut off a group of frat boys who were bound to start problems. She gave them a cab voucher and a tip about an off-the-strip club that is hosting some sports thing and they were more than happy to take their party somewhere else.
She’s between customers again and heads my way with a small smile on her purple lips. If I hadn’t just found my angel, I’d probably engage in some subtle flirtation, even though she isn’t really my type, but nothing more than that. Now, there’s no way that’s going to happen.
“What’s the story on the big guy?” I ask when she leans on the counter across from me, gesturing toward the man who dared to make my angel cry. He’s across the room, standing too close to a waitress who keeps glancing around like she is waiting for the first opportunity to escape. Tina rolls her eyes and huffs out a sound that’s either repugnance or exasperation. I can’t tell if it’s him, or me being obvious in my interest in the angel, that’s annoying her.
“That’s Lawrence. He’s the manager of the café and this place,” she slaps a hand dow
n on the bar top. “He’s a douche.” She says matter-of-factly, but at least now I know it was him and not me she was rolling her eyes about.
“Yeah, I noticed that. He was pretty pissed at the waitress he was talking to.” She smirks reading the interest behind my words, so much for not being obvious, but then her face softens.
“That was Elinor. She’s the sweetest little thing. Hard worker too.” She bends and picks up a wet cloth and absently starts to wipe the counter ending the conversation. Part of me hates that she isn’t going to tell me anything else, but an even bigger part of me appreciates it. I wouldn’t want just anyone to ask a couple questions and get information on her. On Elinor. My Elinor.
I go back to eating my burger, half-listening to Tina as she starts talking about her other job. She also tends bar at a burlesque club off the strip called Tassels. It’s more of a locals-only sort of place from the sound of it, but I still have zero interest in it. Even if I hadn’t just found the woman I want, strip clubs have never been my scene.
“You should come check it out while you are in town,” she invites. “I’m usually there on the weekends, even if I’m not working.”
I nod absently, my mind on Elinor and what it’s going to take to get introduced to her. Tina must take my nod as an agreement because she slips a business card onto the bar beside me.
“My number is on the back.” She winks with a provocative twist of her dark purple lips, tapping a long black fingernail on the card, before sauntering away toward her newest patron. Flipping the card over I see that in addition to her name and number she has also written down her address and a note telling me to swing by after her shift ends tonight.
As nice as she is, that’s not an offer I will be taking her up on. Even if I was in the market for that kind of company tonight, it wouldn’t be with someone who obviously does this kind of thing on the regular. Why else would she have a card with her info on it already? That’s not my idea of a good time. Never has been.
I’m dragging the last of my fries through the small bowl of ranch dressing beside my plate when I see the hostess on the phone at her podium gesturing for Lawrence. The young woman he had cornered visibly relaxes and hurries away from him. When he gets close enough to take the phone from the hostess’s hand she scoots as far from him as her small workstation allows. He crowds in behind the podium, getting closer to her, and even from across the room, I can see her cringe. This guy is a sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to happen. At the very least. There is no way that I’m not going to mention his shitty behavior to Xavier. I can’t help but wonder if anyone has told him what’s going on. I wouldn’t want a slime-ball like that working for me and can only imagine that X wouldn’t either.
Lawrence is only on the phone for a minute before he slams it down and storms back into the kitchen. This time when he starts yelling his voice comes through crystal clear. I adjust my position so that I can see them, ready to intervene if necessary.
“Elinor! I just spoke to Mrs. Rosewood. Again, Elinor!” His voice is accusatory, like she did something wrong and it’s up to him to correct her behavior. “They are very displeased with your lack of customer service skills.” His booming voice carries into the bar that is experiencing something of a lull. I hope they can’t hear him in the cafe too. Where no one could hear him berating her earlier, everyone can hear him now. Several bar patrons swivel in their seats trying to see what the commotion is all about.
Her response is so softly spoken that I can’t hear it, but his booms through the shocked silence. “You can’t go into guests’ rooms and act like a little slut in heat!” He shouts, and any remaining chatter in the bar quiets instantly. It’s almost eerie how silent it gets. Quiet enough that I can finally hear her voice. It’s small and shaking as she stands up to the man bullying her.
“I did no such thing! I delivered the food that you sent me to deliver. I can’t help it that Mrs. Rosewood is a drunk and Dr. Rosewood came out of the bedroom dressed in a flipping Speedo! I kept my eyes on the floor and did my job! That woman is lying!”
His next words shock me with the vitriol behind them. “We all know what a slut you are, Elinor. You’ve got that brat at home with no dad, and…” She raises a wobbly hand, cutting off his words.
“You do not know anything about Augustus, or his father, or me!” she bites, her voice cold and hard. Gone is the meek woman and in her place is an angry mama bear. I have hazy memories of my own mother being like that, years ago before she got sick.
“You have no idea what you are talking about, Lawrence.” There is steel in her softly spoken words, and I’m inordinately proud of her for not taking the bully’s shit. Underneath her meek exterior beats the heart of a fighter.
Her victory doesn’t last long though.
