by Cynthia Dane
“That’s wild,” Candice commented at the end of the ten-minute spiel. “Guess I would throw myself at a hot billionaire too. Can’t blame you, girl. Promise me that if we ever go clubbing again you don’t go rubbing your bare pussy on some guy’s equally bare dick because you got a taste of bareback utopia. Shit ain’t safe under a certain income level.”
“Would you come off it? I get it. I’m dumb. Think I don’t beat myself up over it?”
“Hey, hey, I didn’t mean it like that.” Candice put a reassuring hand on Alice’s arm. “We all get caught up in the moment.”
“Even at twenty-eight?”
“Even at seventy, probably.”
“Somehow that doesn’t make me feel better.”
“So go get some better birth control.” Candice shrugged. “I’ll be here for you when it starts making you into a raging lunatic while you adjust.”
“Thanks.” Alice leaned forward, halfway off the couch but not committing to getting up. Where would she go, anyway? Her bedroom to take a nap? Pshaw. “Although you seem to have this inflated sense that I’m going to see him again. He’s probably done with me now. Got me out of his system really good.” She finally managed to smile. “Why do you think I hopped into it a second time so readily? Might have been my last chance!”
Candice did not smile back. Yet she had a knowing look, the kind she imparted whenever she dangled her years of emotional life experience over Alice. “Guys like that don’t get over women so easily. I might agree if it had only been the one time. A second? He’s going to ask you out. Just you wait.”
“Ask me out to what? Become his side-honey?”
“What if he does? Will you say no?”
“That would probably be a good idea. The sex may be nice to have in my life, but I don’t get the sense it would end well for me any other way. He’ll get rid of me the moment he finds someone else who strikes his fancy.”
Candice sat back in a ponderous position. “Be that as it may, you could totally milk the situation for all it’s worth should it present itself.”
“What do you mean?”
A hand tipped in blood-red nails patted Alice’s knee. “If he comes looking for a sugar baby? Give the man a sugar baby… and by give, I mean make him pay for it.”
Alice’s mouth dropped open. “I couldn’t…”
“Girl, unless you get a job in the meantime, what are you going to do about rent? Think about that.”
“I’m looking for a job!”
“I know you are, but you also know how hard it is to get jobs in our industry right now. I keep putting my feelers out for you, but that Dark Hour job was the first real one I had in a while. To be frank, you botched it.”
“I know!”
“So make the man who made you lose your job pay for it. Think of it as getting a sweet severance package. Including a sweeter dick.”
Candice was ruthless. Alice knew she needed such a person in her life, but sometimes the things she said were too much!
Still. Food for thought. Not that Alice had much hope that either Mr. Monroe or Ms. Clayborn would come knocking on her door again. No. She wouldn’t count on it. Best to pick up the paper and start trolling Craigslist for job openings again. She had a better chance at getting a hosting position in a family Mexican restaurant than she did ever seeing Monroe again.
Alice spent the rest of her day either searching for jobs or listening to Candice give her plenty of “advice” on how she should milk Monroe of more than his reproductive imperatives. “If you don’t wanna oopsie-baby him, then at least charge him a fee for your beautiful presence. He’s a rich bastard. What does he care if you charge five hundred bucks a pop? What? Why are you offended? Five hundred is respectable! Fine, fine, go for a few grand if you think you can get it, honey! Shut up! I’m not a pimp!”
Alice came out of that day with one promise to herself: follow her gut. Right now, her gut told her to email the owner of a Chinese-American restaurant and get herself a fucking job.
Chapter 7
This was it. This was 2008 all over again.
“Welcome to Blue Bird. How many people in your party?” The family burger joint was packed with people. Kids screamed in front of a blackboard, scratching colored chalk all over the laminate flooring and attempting to get the chairs too. Their parents sighed, yawned, or bugged Alice for more balloons because little Johnny and Harriet kept popping those. I know. I have a heart attack every time, thanks.
POP!
Alice shrieked at her podium, dropping a ballpoint pen onto the floor. The man standing in khaki shorts and a striped shirt before her rolled his eyes as he told her for the third time, “Party of four!”
“Yes, okay…” She took a deep breath before penciling the number into her chart. “Can I get a name for that?”
“Brumhild.”
“Brumhilda?”
“I said Brumhild!”
Alice flinched, the ink in her pen smearing across the number 4 she had jotted down. Fuck a damn duck.
She had only been working at Blue Bird, a chain restaurant, for about five days. One day of training and then unleashed upon the world. At least the pay was decent and she was guaranteed a good amount of hours every week, but she didn’t get many chances for tips, and the stress levels were outrageous. I haven’t had to host at a place like this since I was in college. Alice had cut her teeth in the industry at Blue Bird’s rival TGIWeekend. I should be way beyond a place like this. It didn’t help that most of her coworkers were either five+ years younger than her or freshly minted in this line of work. The only reason Alice started off with higher pay was because of her extensive history. All the good it would do her if she had a nervous breakdown within two months.
“Silverman?” She rounded the podium, searching the waiting area for the next party. “Party of two? Silverman?” Were they in the bathroom? Had someone else seated them without her knowing? It was hard to think clearly with the music cranked up and a hundred people eating burgers with smacking lips.
Alice turned to find the next party instead of the Silvermans. They had probably left because of the ten minute wait.
“H… hey!” She launched herself at the podium, where Mr. Brumhild was helping himself to writing down his party information on her chart. His girth was enough to shove her away as she tried to wrench the ballpoint pen from his hand.
“Give me a second!” the man bellowed, writing something incomprehensible on all of the wrong lines. “There. See? I can do your job as well as you can, young lady. You should move us up for that.”
Alice stared at the mess left on her chart. I’m going to get screwed for this. Another hostess approached, taking one look at the scene and hurrying to find a party to sit. Yeah, Alice didn’t want to fuck with it either. At least she had some help from her coworker. That meant she could take the five minutes necessary to find a fresh chart and start over, replicating the names and party numbers… and making sure the oh so helpful Mr. Brumhild was dead last. As much as Alice wanted to get him out of her way and make him a server’s problem, she was not going to reward his wretched behavior.
“I better get a raise soon,” she muttered, hunched over the chart so nobody would bother her. The end of her ponytail flopped down instead. After tossing it over her shoulder, she sighed, resigned that this was going to be her life for the foreseeable future. My punishment for fucking up that Dark Hour job. Fucking up. Ha!
“Ms. Culver.”
She heard it. She heard someone say her name in the most deadpan voice imaginable. But in Blue Bird, one thought they heard many things. A deadpan voice? That was lost to the noise of frat boys getting drunk watching football on TV and sorority girls whining that their salads had too many carbs. You’re in fucking Blue Bird! Everything has carbs! And sugar! And gobs of sodium that will make your waistline increase four inches after one bite! Gwerkjkslgja!
“Ms. Culver.”
The voice was still deadpan, but the urgency increased. Alice
glanced up from her chart and barely registered who loomed over her. Another woman with mousy brown hair and no makeup. Dime a dozen at Blue Bird.
She had written down one of many names when it hit her.
“Uh!” Alice stood up straight, making her a whole two inches taller than Sarah Clayborn in her heels. “What are you doing here?”
The woman’s expression never changed. As always.
Before Ms. Clayborn could open her mouth, however, the front doors to Blue Bird flew open and admitted the most out of place party to ever grace the restaurant’s presence.
Even Mr. Brumhild stopped his blubbering to stare at the men in tailor-fitted suits. Children pointed. Women fanned themselves. Only those who were oblivious to Monroe, party of seven, continued their laughing and eating in the gallery beyond the hostess’s chamber. Alice dropped her pen again. This time no one hurried to pick it up.
“I tried to give you some warning,” Ms. Clayborn said drolly.
While most of the men entering the restaurant seemed unfazed by their new environment, it was Monroe – sporting a sapphire blue tie and matching cufflinks – who showed the most reaction. He took in the blue collar diners, the rabble on TV, the smell of cheap burgers and beer, and the messy children through calculating eyes. When they settled on Alice, it was not relief she saw, but “You’re making me come to this pit to find you? I hope you appreciate this.”
“Mis… Mr. Monroe,” she squeaked as he approached her podium, flanked by both assistants and whom she presumed was a bodyguard. “We… welcome to Blue Bird?”
None of the women looking on with gossip on their puffy faces could have figured that this man and this woman had raunchy sex not once but twice. Would be a fine thing if he came for a third round in the middle of a restaurant like this! I would die. Even I can’t do that. She didn’t think he could either. The man was pulling wet wipes out of his assistant’s pocket every time he accidentally touched something.
“Come with me, Ms. Culver. We need to talk.”
Her eyes widened. Not in shock, but absolute wonder that this was really happening. “I can’t leave my job,” she told him. “You’ll have to wait until my shift is over.”
“When would that be?”
“Four more hours.”
“Four…” Monroe narrowed those carefully sculpted brows. “I don’t have time to wait.”
“Well, I can’t afford to lose my job.” She narrowed her eyes back at him. “You want to get me fired from two jobs, Mr. Monroe?”
One of the other men shifted back and forth on his feet. Another – Nigel Clayborn, the other assistant, right? How was he related to Sarah Clayborn again? – longed after a plate of onion rings going by. Probably don’t get to eat many of those around this guy. “I certainly do not wish to further jeopardize your employment opportunities, Ms. Culver.” He cleared his throat. “But I don’t have much time. I’ve got a half hour window before I’m due…”
“At a meeting. Yeah. I’m sure.”
A short man dressed in the same black outfit as Alice appeared, hands clasped together and round face attempting to take in the sight before him. This guy was way out of his element. Like Monroe was out of his element lounging around a place like this.
“Is there a problem?” his preppy voice asked. He mostly looked at Alice when he asked that. “Alice? Sir?”
“No problem,” both Alice and Monroe said at the same time. Well, Monroe said No issue but what was the dif? “It’s okay, Scott,” Alice said to her manager. “I know this guy.”
Monroe gestured to his male assistant, who hastily pulled something out of his inside pocket and handed it to an unsuspecting Scott the Blue Bird Manager. “I would appreciate speaking to Ms. Culver in private,” Monroe said. “It’s of the upmost importance.”
Scott took the small piece of paper and went from neutral to gaping like a fish in fewer than five seconds. “Y…yes, sir.” The paper trembled in his hand. “Go on, Alice!” he hissed in his employee’s direction. “What are you waiting for?”
“You’re serious.” The other hostess appeared, took one look at the developing situation, and hurried to seat the next round of guests. “I’m not due for a break yet.”
“Maddie will cover for you!” Scott pointed to the hostess now disappearing behind a column. He came closer to Alice and lowered his voice. “Do you know who this man is? His company owns this place!”
Alice had to refrain from shrieking in disbelief. I’m out of reactions. He’s sucked them all out of me. Not that he had done a lot of relevant sucking yet. “All right. Fine. I refuse to get in trouble for this, though.”
“Trouble? What trouble? Keep the guy happy!”
Scott really had no idea, did he?
Monroe left the restaurant as quickly as his shiny black shoes allowed him. The bodyguard followed them out, the Clayborns and the other men staying behind in the restaurant. A stretch limo was parked across four handicap spaces. The driver hopped out and opened the nearest door for Monroe and Alice to climb in. The bodyguard stood outside.
Well, this is fancy, even for him. Contrary to what many may assume about Alice, she had been in the back of a limo before. It was called Senior Prom and her friend’s bachelorette party two years ago.
Neither of those limos compared to this, though. Back then, Alice had been impressed with the leather finishes, the complimentary drink bars, the pocket cell phones, and touch controls that combined sophistication with practicality. The back of Monroe’s limo was like a freakin’ RV! The man pushed one button to dim the car lights and control the amount of tint in the windows. Alice went from being able to see the bodyguard one moment to seeing nothing but faint streaks of sunlight. A personal air conditioner turned on next to her, making her shiver in her collared shirt and slacks.
Or maybe that was Monroe making her shiver. He seemed to have that power. Bastard.
“So,” Alice murmured, glancing between the folded hands in her lap and the powerful man sitting across from her. The car had yet to start, let alone drive off anywhere. At least he wasn’t kidnapping her, she supposed. “Is this another booty call? You wanna do it right here?” When she made the joke about him fucking her curbside, this was not quite what she had in mind. The least he could do was get out of the handicap spaces. “This would be the, what, second time you’ve fucked me on the job? At least I got permission this time, I guess.”
Once she realized her mouth was running, she struggled to catch it, rounding it up with her lips curling inward and her chest tightening in suspense. Monroe cracked a small smile.
“Unfortunately, I don’t have the time to give you the proper attention that I wish, Ms. Culver.” His elbow rested against a ledge, fingers scratching the groomed stubble on his upper lip. “That’s why I wished to ask you out to dinner this Friday evening. I unexpectedly had an empty schedule that night.”
“Oh, well, if you have an empty schedule to shove me into…”
“I recognize your sarcasm, Ms. Culver, but I’m serious. I’ve told you over and over again that my time is valuable. Deciding who I spend my precious free time with is of the utmost importance to me. I’ve decided to try spending more of it with you.”
That was… almost romantic? Delivered with a soft tone, for sure, but there was a hollowness to his words. Alice felt like she was watching a movie instead of living in this moment.
“Why?”
Monroe sat back, body making the leather beneath him squeak. The strange thing? That was one of the most humanizing moments Alice had ever seen with this man. “Because I would like to. Does it have to be more complicated than that?”
Alice shrugged. “You could have any woman. I don’t think I’m so special that you’re suddenly enamored with me, Mr. Monroe. We’ve had sex. Big deal.” It sort of was a big deal for her, now wasn’t it? Not that Alice would let him see that. “I thought you would keep stalking me and finding out how you could stick it in me at a moment’s notice.”
The
man remained unchanged. “We could do it that way, if you want.” Monroe squared his shoulders, eyes fluttering in thought. “Though I thought you might prefer a date here and there. I don’t go on many of them because of…”
“Time. Yup. Got it.”
He unleashed his devilish smirk on her. “If you don’t have time either, Ms. Culver, we may be able to rearrange our schedules to include one another. If that suits you, that is.”
“To be totally honest, I have nothing to do Friday night.” The only big ticket day Alice was allowed to work at the moment was Sunday. Friday and Saturday were days she would get with more experience at Blue Bird. Then I could start paying some bills… “I’m rather curious as to what you consider a date, Mr. Monroe. I’m sure sex is in there somewhere.”
He was still smirking. “Do you have a problem with that, Ms. Culver?”
Considering how quickly her thighs were heating up, not at all. Could we do it in a bed this time? His bed? Would she ever be so special? “No. If it feels agreeable in the moment, I don’t mind screwing your brains out, Monroe.”
His cologne became more intoxicating as he leaned forward. “I was thinking more the other way around.”
“Of course you were. You’re the kind of guy who wants to always be in charge, right?”
Something sinister glistened in his amber eyes. “You truly have no idea, Ms. Culver. I thought we might be able to discuss that Friday night. How about I come pick you up at your place around six or so?”