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“Looks like you and James have matching allergies,” he says. “Not sure why either of you live on an island.”
That explains it, then. I give a hesitant smile, my pulse slowing from the sudden irritation I felt when James laughed. “Well, I’d better head home. Lots to do.” It’s a lie, but I don’t know how long I can stand the polite conversation. This might be the longest I’ve spoken with any of my coworkers, and I’m clearly not very good at it.
I move to pass back James’ umbrella, but he shakes his head. “Keep it. I have another one at home.”
I should protest, but the idea of saving five bucks is appealing enough that I take his offer. Thats five more dollars I can put toward a nicer apartment, one that has working air conditioning and a properly-sealed roof. “Thanks,” I say. “Again. I guess I’ll see you at work.”
He gives me a soft smile, and his eyes are on mine again in that way that makes me feel seen. I really have to get out of here. “See you.”
I have to avoid sprinting back to my apartment. I have no reason to be running away from James, but the way he looked at me was too intense. Even worse, I liked it. My heart warms every time I picture his gaze on mine, those hazel eyes boring into my soul.
It’s just the matching shellfish allergies, I tell myself. I’ve had so little social interaction since moving here that the tiniest connection has my heart all aflutter. I almost consider calling my mom, but then I’d have to make up more lies. I’d have to find a way to explain how I know him, and I’d have to talk about running into him and needing an umbrella. I’m sure that, if she found out I was too financially unstable to buy a new umbrella, my mom would scrape together her savings and fly me back to Tennessee. As useless as my marine biology degree feels here, it would be so much worse back home.
I can’t go back. I really can’t.
I close the umbrella and shake it off before entering my hovel of a home. It’s not so bad if I don’t look at the leaky, moldy corner. My bed is decently comfortable and set off the floor with a pallet frame that I made myself, and the stove works at least ninety percent of the time.
I can make it through this. I just have to focus.
I realize after a moment that I’m still clutching the umbrella, and I consider throwing it across the room. Instead, I close it and then hang it delicately on the hook by the door before locking myself into my home. Just looking at it makes me think of James’ hazel eyes.
This is all fine. It’s all normal. I probably just need to eat, and then I’ll feel better.
Keep telling yourself that, the voice in the back of my head prods.
Chapter Five
James
Over the phone the next morning, Tyler laughs, telling me that I’m wasting my time. “What makes you think working as a dish boy will help your business at all? Just get back to Miami.”
I stand at the window of my suite, looking out over the glistening ocean. The island may be tiny, but it looks out on an incredible expanse of the world. The view takes my breath away.
“Mom always told me that the lowest paid employee is the most important in any business. They’re the ones that make our money, you know.” I’m not sure I believe the words, but it is something my mom used to say. A lump forms in my throat as I begin to miss her once again. How would she feel about my quest to make the server hate me less? Honestly, she’d probably just laugh at me.
Tyler laughs again. “Right. Do any of them actually know what goes on at the upper level? Do they find investors, put their own money in, risking their livelihoods?”
I was thinking the exact same thing when I first arrived, but I don’t want to admit it. If I admit that I’m not actually trying to understand the minimum wage lifestyle, then I’ll also have to admit why I’m really doing this. That would go over well. Besides, I’m starting to see that our lowest-paid employees actually have the most to lose. If I were to be removed from the head of my company, I’d still have billions. If Hector or Alexis were to get fired, they would lose their homes. I thought Tyler grew up poor because he needed my funding, but his upper-middle-class lifestyle was far above anything that these people are given.
I check my watch, a hand-me-down from my father. It’s one of the few used items I own, but I treasure it nonetheless. “I have to go, Ty,” I say, my voice flat.
“Enjoy washing dishes!” he says, and a voice interrupts him in Mandarin. I hang up the phone without saying goodbye, then change into my work clothes.
Camilla, at my request, bought me jeans and white t-shirts so I can blend in better with Hector. I stood out yesterday, although he never commented on my slacks and button-up.
I take the service elevator at the rear end of my suite downstairs so that I’m not spotted by the guests, and I don’t want to be caught by the employees, either.
When I make it to the kitchen, I clock in quickly, running behind.
“She’s gonna kill you,” Hector sings when I make it back to the dish pit.
I roll my eyes. “It’s just ten minutes. I had an important phone call.”
He shakes his head, and I’m not sure I understand. Ten minutes is nothing. I’ve had board members just never show up to meetings, and it didn’t affect anything.
When Alexis storms into the dish area, though, my blood runs cold. Her face is made of stone, and she crosses her arms over her chest. Her tied-up blonde hair swings this way and that, and I feel myself shrinking under her gaze.
“Where have you been?” she demands. “Your shift started ten minutes ago.”
