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“Game on.”
CHAPTER 3
BEFORE HER FIRST DAY, Charlotte dared to use her credit card to buy some new clothes for her new life. She only had it for emergencies, but she counted on paying the bill with her first paycheck.
After
much
deliberation,
she
chose
a
white
pantsuit Frania’s abuela tailored to fit her modest curves like a glove. For color, she picked a bright pink silk blouse that complimented her long blonde hair and pale blue eyes.
She decided on makeup that morning, figuring all of Alexandra’s sta would be as polished and put together as she was. The concealer she tried didn’t hide the little mole near her lip. It was small enough that people called it a beauty mark when she was little, but a mole by any other name was still . . . a mole.
By the time she rolled into the spa’s parking lot, she’d given herself an extensive pep talk. Instead of thinking about everything riding on this job, she readied herself for her first day as if the other stu didn’t exist. It was the only way to make it through. She couldn’t be playing a part. It had to be
real or Alexandra would catch on. She hadn’t evaded authorities this long without being shrewd.
The little beige Honda looked out of place in the line of European cars parked under the awning clearly marked for sta use only. All guests were treated to complimentary valet service, an added touch of extravagance given the plentiful parking.
With her head held high and her heart beating wildly out of rhythm, Charlotte strode toward the grand entrance. A lifetime of being a chameleon to survive was going to serve her well. Maybe that’s why Jayson had so much confidence in her ability to do this . . . or he was desperate enough not to care if she failed. She went with the former for the confidence boost.
A manmade babbling brook surrounded the small resort like a moat. The sound of trickling water was the spa’s soundtrack.
“Good morning,” a man in a white linen suit greeted as he held the heavy wooden door open for her.
Charlotte thanked him but wished she’d been allowed to open her own damn door. After in
troducing herself, she continued to the front desk.
“Nice to see you again,” the receptionist said with a grin.
Grateful for the gold name tag, Charlotte smiled. “Nice to see you too, Paola.”
The woman leaned in but her straight, brown hair remained motionless. “I knew you were going to get the job.”
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Charlotte whispered back conspiratorially.
Paola adopted a coy I’ll-never-tell expression. “Just a feeling.”
“Well, if you get a feeling about some lottery numbers, you let me know,” she joked before cringing internally at the corniness of the line.
A severe-looking woman with white-gray hair cut in a lifeless bob cleared her throat as she approached. “Ms.
Castro.” The woman looked at the thin gold watch strapped to her boney wrist. “I was wondering if you planned on showing up.”
Charlotte furrowed her brow. She was fifteen minutes early. “The email I received said to arrive at ten,” she explained, doing her level best not to sound defensive.
“It’s alright,” the woman said as if graciously extending her a pass.
