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The guy gulped and looked like he was about to piss himself.
“Do you understand me?”
“Y-yes,” the weasel said.
“Now, you’re all going to leave your server a nice big tip and then you’re going to fuck off out of here, understand?”
“Yep. Yep.”
They all nodded and started pulling out their wallets, placing several bills on the table.
By the time they left, there had to be around four hundred dollars on the table.
“Thank you.” Cat glanced up at the guy. “Appreciate the help.”
The big guy’s eyes were twinkling. “Think nothing of it, lass. Anyone ever bothers you again, you just tell them that you’re friends with The Scot.”
“The Scot?”
“Yep.” He moved away toward the back of the room. She couldn’t see him, but she had this strange feeling that Alejandro was watching.
Maybe she hadn’t messed this all up after all.
5
“I messed up.”
Cat paced back and forth as she spoke to her friends through the video call on her laptop.
Well, all of them except Maeve. She’d been summoned home by her stepfather for the holidays.
She was worried about Maeve. They’d all hoped that she’d finally be free of Anson, her stepdad, once she went to college. But that fucker had a hold over her that she couldn’t seem to break free of.
“Why? Nothing’s happened, has it?” Sampson demanded. “Damn it, Cat.”
“Nothing’s happened! I promise.”
She hadn’t exactly told them everything that happened three weeks ago when she worked as a server in the back room.
Like how Alejandro had tracked her down, dragged her into a storeroom and basically told her that she belonged to him . . .
She didn’t think she needed to share those details with Sampson. Not unless she wanted his head to explode.
Or for him and the others to find their way here and drag her back to Tennessee with them.
Anyway, it seemed all of Alejandro’s posturing was just that. He had completely ignored her the other night when he’d come in.
She was nothing to him.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Immy asked. “You look stressed. And tired. Aren’t you sleeping? Are you eating all right?”
She had to smile. If someone else started asking her questions like that, she’d snap back at them. But Immy had always fussed over all of them.
“I’m okay, Immy,” she replied.
“You sure?” Jenner asked. “Maybe we should send you some money. I still don’t like the look of where you’re living.”
She huffed out a sigh. “You’re not sending me money. I’m fine.” This wasn’t the first time they’d had this argument. But she wasn’t anyone’s charity case. Not even with her friends.
Besides, it wasn’t like they had a lot of cash to spread around. They were all in college except for Sampson and Jenner. And while Jenner’s music career was starting to take off, he wasn’t raking in the big bucks yet.
“You’d be the first to give us the shirt off your back, Cat,” Abe pointed out. “We just want to look after you.”
“You need to eat more,” Immy said.
“I’m fine.” She brushed a hand through the air dismissively. “There’s nothing wrong with this apartment. And they’ve implemented a new policy at work that means we now get a meal included as a perk.”
Which was kind of odd. It had started a few days after she’d worked in the back room. Martin had insisted she take a break and put a plate of food in front of her.
“Too bad the food is all fancy shit I can’t even pronounce, let alone eat.” She was a girl with simple tastes. She could live off bread, butter, and coffee.
What more did she need?
“You’ve got to eat more than bread and butter, Cat,” Sampson grumbled.
“I do. I eat french toast. The diner down the street does the best french toast.” She licked her lips. It was her treat every Sunday morning. Most of her money went to rent and savings. She needed to ensure she had a nest egg in case things went south and she had to get out of the city quickly.
But a girl couldn’t live without french toast. It just wasn’t possible.
“So why did you say you messed up?” Isaiah asked.
“Because I was meant to catch Alejandro’s interest. To make him see me.”
She’d hoped to make an impression, to gain his trust so she could get closer to him. And she thought she had.
But when he’d come in a week ago, he’d looked right through her.
She’d been invisible.
“It’s been three weeks since the poker game and he hasn’t sought me out. And Martin hasn’t said anything about me taking over for Starla for their next meeting, which has to be coming up.”
“They don’t meet every month,” Isaiah said. “Every eight weeks is normal. So stupid. They should probably try going to different venues, or someone will eventually figure out a way to listen in.”
“His guards do a sweep before each meeting,” she said. Or she would have tried to put her own bugs in there.
