by Marni Mann
Time was working against me, as it usually did.
Thirty days…
CHAPTER FOUR
“CAN YOU START right now?”
The casino was my first stop once I’d arrived in Bangor. Rumor was that I’d make more here in a night as a cocktail waitress than I’d make if I did two double shifts at the Trap House. This was really the only place I wanted to work, but I never expected there to be an opening.
I kept my unscarred cheek pointed toward him and leaned forward to make sure I’d heard Kevin, the beverage manager, correctly. “You mean you want to hire me now? Like, this second?”
“It’s short notice, I know.” He pulled out a pile of papers from one of his desk drawers. “One of my waitresses just up and quit, so I’m understaffed for a poker tournament starting in an hour. Consider it a tryout. If you do well, I’ll hire you full-time.”
I watched his hands as he placed the sheets in front of me. His nails needed to be cut. There were thick, curly black hairs on both sides of his knuckles. Masculine, but harmless.
“So what do you say, Ms. Ryan?”
I continued to stare at him, keeping my neck turned to hide my scar. That was how I always spoke to people—never straight on. They didn’t need to see my marred skin, and I didn’t need to witness them gawking at it. That only led to questions…questions I’d never answer. But Kevin needed to know exactly who he was hiring and what his customers would be viewing whenever I approached their table. So I held my breath and slowly turned my face. He didn’t flinch; his eyes didn’t move from mine. I waited several more seconds before I said, “Yes, of course I can start right now.”
He placed a pen on top of the stack of papers. “Excellent.” He leaned back into his seat, his fingers gripping the armrests. “I don’t have time to check out your references. I’m assuming they’ll be good?”
I nodded and wiped my palms on the side of the chair. They were slick and clammy. Who could I use as a reference? Saint wasn’t an option, or the other servers I’d worked with. They’d kept their distance because I’d been dating their boss. Shane and Uncle Irving would have to do.
“Then if you don’t have any questions, take those sheets into the HR office and fill them out there.” He tipped his head toward the stack. “Once you’re done, head over to the employee locker room. I’ll have Christy meet you there. She’ll get you a uniform and show you around, and at the end of the night she’ll tell me how you did. If you don’t hear from me in the morning, plan on coming in tomorrow night, too. By then, I’ll have a schedule worked out…I’ll slip a copy into your locker.”
I was sure I had some questions; I just didn’t know what they were. This was all happening so fast, but that was the speed I needed. Last month was the first time I’d missed making my monthly deposit, money I’d been saving since I was sixteen. Money that couldn’t be used to cover the rent. Because Saint had fired me, I already had a month to make up for, and I didn’t want to miss another one.
“No questions,” I said, reaching for the pen and the papers.
“Good.” He slid his mouse over the pad, turning his computer screen from black to white. “Take a left just outside the door. HR is at the end of the hallway.”
I stood from the chair, my purse swinging from my shoulder and the papers and pen in my sweaty hands. My neck turned again, moving my scar away from him. He’d seen enough of it. “Thanks for the opportunity.” I pulled my skirt down as I walked. It was the longest one I owned, but it was still too short. I didn’t have the cash to pick up something more appropriate, not even for an interview. Thankfully, it hadn’t worked against me. It might have even worked in my favor.
“Rae?”
I stopped in the doorway and turned around to face Kevin again. “Yes?”
“Today is an important day for the casino. I’m counting on you.”
“I won’t disappoint you.”
“Good.” His eyes went back to the computer screen.
I followed his directions to HR. It didn’t take me long to fill out the paperwork. Most of the sheets asked the same questions. For the address, I used Brady’s apartment. I didn’t know how much longer I’d be living there. Now that I had a job, I could hopefully work something out with the landlord. I reminded myself to call him in the morning.
I handed all the papers to the secretary, and she opened a small map and highlighted the route to the employee locker room.
“A map?” I asked.
“Trust me, you’ll need it. This place is harder to navigate than downtown Boston during rush hour.”
I hadn’t ever been to Boston, or to another casino. And I hadn’t seen much of this place so far, but the few areas I’d been through were huge. I was grateful to have some sort of direction.
“Thank you,” I said over my shoulder as I followed the bright yellow line on the map. I hadn’t gotten more than twenty yards before I hit a dead end. Either the map was outdated, or I didn’t know how to read one. Either way, I was standing in front of a bathroom. I turned around and circled the section of slot machines looking for someone to ask.
“Employee locker room?” I said to an attendant who was exchanging a customer’s slot ticket for cash.
“That way.” She pointed behind me. “Second left after the blackjack tables.”
I followed her instructions, ditching the map when I passed a wastebasket. The door was unmarked. It had to be the one.
I was barely inside before I heard my name. “Rae?” When my eyes met the girl who had spoken it, my lids widened. It felt like the highlighter had leaked from the paper, bled onto my face and circled my scar—flashing vividly, grabbing her attention and immediately revealing my flaw…and there wasn’t a single blemish I could find on her. It was exactly how I’d felt the first time I was in Drew’s presence after finding out she was dating Saint.
Beautiful people made me want to hide under an umbrella.
“Christy?” I asked, confirming what I already suspected, knowing I would be spending the next several hours with this beauty.
“That’s me.” Her piercing aqua eyes never blinked, and they never strayed from mine. “I’m so glad you made it, girl. When I called HR, they said you left ten minutes ago…I was getting ready to come look for you.”
I shrugged a silent apology. “I got so lost.”
“No worries.” She waved me over. “This place is crazy-big, and that damn map they give you is useless.”
It was larger than any building in Bar Harbor, even the hotels. But the size of this place wasn’t what I was thinking about at the moment. It was her. She wasn’t simply beautiful; she was intriguing, too. She was one of those girls you gazed at because you wanted to know her story—the reason she made the expressions she did, the reasons she chose to highlight her dark hair with caramel streaks, what gave her movements such fluidity. Was she a dancer? A swimmer? Were other parts of her body covered with the lightest patch of freckles like the one that spread under her eyes and nose? Even that was perfect.
Damn her.
I stopped a few feet away. “Yeah, it’s huge. I threw the map away. It didn’t help at all.”
Even though I had my smooth cheek pointed at her, she was looking at my scar. Her pupils traced each swirl and jagged edge on my skin. I’d known this was going to be one of her first moves. I’d encountered enough girls like her—the kind who didn’t care how obvious she was as she examined me, scrutinized me. She didn’t blush when our eyes finally met. She didn’t even look sorry, though she didn’t look grossed out, either. She acted as if it was something that needed to happen, and now that it had, we could move on. It wasn’t comfortable for me, but I was relieved that we’d gotten it out of the way.
“Ready to get dressed?” she asked. “You’ve got a great body…the uniform is going to hug you just right.”
I did a quick scan of the black skirt she wore, which was much shorter than the one I had on, and her skin-tight tank top. Her breasts were twice as big as
my B-cups, and her lips had to have been plumped. Her eyes followed mine as I returned her scrutiny. But unlike her, I actually did blush when I realized she’d caught me. “Is that what I’ll be wearing?” I asked.
She turned around to show me the rest. I wasn’t surprised by what I saw: more perfection, in the form of an ass that pushed out against the pleats of her skirt, and legs that were thin but held just the right amount of muscle. She opened a door along the back wall, grabbed several items off the shelves inside and handed them all to me.
I unfolded the short black skirt and held it out. It looked small enough to fit a doll…and the tank was narrow and barely stretched. “I might need a bigger—”
“They’re both your size.” She glanced at my feet. “Seven, right?”
I nodded.
She walked back over to the closet and removed a pair of knee-high leather boots, placing those in my arms as well. “There’s one last thing…” She moved over to the closest row of lockers, punched in a code to open one and reached inside. “You’ll want to wear this, too.” When she pulled her hand out again, there was a black bra strung around her fingers.
“Is that yours?”
She nodded. “The casino should really give these out as part of the uniform, but they don’t, so…”
“So you want me to wear your bra?”
She looked at my breasts, then back at my face. “Unless you have a push-up in your purse, then yes. You’ll thank me later…I can promise you that.” I owned three bras. They all had a bit of padding, but I wouldn’t consider any of them a real push-up. “This little gem will earn you at least three hundred tonight,” she added.
I nearly choked. “That’s how much you make?”
She puckered her glossy lips and cupped her hands under her own bra, lifting and pushing to readjust her perfect breasts. “At least. But wearing that baby, you’ll probably make closer to four.”
I held out my hand and wiggled my fingers. “Give it to me.”
She smirked. “Thought so.”
There was something about her that I liked. She owed me nothing—shit, she didn’t even have to be nice to me—but for some reason, she was helping me out.
“Bathrooms are in the back.” She reached into her locker again and removed a small black bag. “Since you don’t have a locker yet, feel free to use mine. I’m just going to touch up my makeup, and then we can hit the floor.”
I carried the clothes and boots to the back of the locker room and changed in one of the stalls. The skirt barely covered the tiny pair of boy shorts she had given me. I kept my panties on under them. It felt weird to think of going without them; I didn’t need my stuff rubbing all over the company-supplied uniform, regardless of how sexy the outfit was. The tank had a hard time stretching over my pumped up breasts, and they spilled out the top once it was fully on.
I’d never had this much cleavage before.
When I returned to the main room, Christy had added a pair of false lashes to her eyes, and red tint to her lips. It looked like she’d sprayed her long curls to keep them from straightening. “Ready?” she asked.
“I think so.”
She gave me a short black apron that I tied around my waist, and I followed her out the door.
As we walked through the different sections of the casino, she described the types of customers who gambled in each area, what they drank, and the amount they usually tipped. There was a definite divide.
“Do you earn as much in the poker room?” I asked. It sounded like the table game players tipped the most…but that wasn’t where we were headed.
She winked at one of the dealers. “Hell yeah. It’s the only place I like to work.” She brought me into a large square room that was completely filled with tables. There were men everywhere—leaning against the back wall, waiting in line by the entrance, chatting in groups by the teller, sitting in chairs around the tables, moving through the aisles. Most of them were in their twenties, thirties tops. There were very few women, aside from the handful who were playing. The rest were either serving or dealing.
“I can see why,” I said, searching the faces closest to me, taking in all their scents. I had never been around so many men at once. And because most of them were so focused, it gave me a chance to stare without being noticed. I couldn’t stop.
She laughed for the first time in our short interaction. It was such a simple sound, yet she made it sensual. “It’s like a locker room, isn’t it?”
We stopped walking and stood near the far wall. I glanced in her direction as her eyes met mine. “But they’re dressed…unfortunately.”
I heard the sound again. This time it was even lighter. “I hope they stay that way.” She reached for my hand. “Come on.” There was a door just to the side of us marked Employees Only. She pulled me through. “Most of the guys in here will only order beer, but let me show you how to enter mixed drinks and special orders just in case.” She typed her employee code into the computer and pulled up the drink options. After a brief demonstration, she had me type a few fake orders. That was all it took before I could operate the system on my own. It was almost identical to the one I’d used at the Trap House. “You’re going to start with two hundred, and that’s how much you’ll return at the end of your shift. Anything over that amount you keep. Questions?” She handed me the wad of cash.
I stuck it into my apron. “Nope, I’ve got it.”
“We’ll each have five tables. I can help out with yours until you get the feel of it, if you want.”
The casino wasn’t really all that different from Saint’s restaurant. The orders were mostly drinks, which made it much easier. Food tended to make things a bit harder, with all the ingredients and cooking processes to memorize.
“I think I’m good,” I said. “I’ll come get you if I need help.”
She smiled, her red lips parting to show perfectly white teeth. It was no wonder she made that amount each night. I didn’t like girls that way, but even I’d tip the hell out of her. There was a huge difference between Christy and me, something that went well beyond our appearances.
She was perfect, and I was…not.
I had no idea how these guys would react to the mess on my face. Unless they were from Bar Harbor, their assumptions would be far from accurate.
I packed the other pocket of my apron with a pad of paper and several pens. Then I straightened my back and followed her to the door.
Before she opened it, we both adjusted our bras. “Your nipples are going to ache by the end of the night,” she warned me, “but the money will be well worth it. Promise.”
I laughed, my smile spreading as wide as it could. “They already do! I’ll tough it out.” The bra felt like a set of clamps, not just holding me up, but binding me, too. There was pain starting in my shoulders and in the center of my back where the straps dug into my skin. But pain was part of my life.
All that mattered at that moment was how much money I was going to make.
Her fingers tapped my wrist. “I figured I was going to like you. I was right.” She released me and moved through the open door before I got a chance to get a good look at anything besides her black nail polish. “Those are yours.” She pointed toward the row across from us. “Mine is the row to the right. Let me know if you need me.”
With the pad in my hand, I walked to the first ten-top and began taking their orders. Christy was right: they mostly wanted beer. But their tips were consistent, and they drank fast. After a few rounds, I started ordering ahead so their drinks would be ready before they asked for them. That allowed me to turn the bottles even faster. The players seemed to appreciate not having to wait, and their tips started to increase.
Every hour, we took a fifteen minute break. Those moments went by so fast, I barely had time to sit and take a sip of water before we had to report back to our tables. My feet throbbed inside the boots; my nipples had been hard and aching for hours from the constant rubbing and squeezing of the bra. The spilled beer fe
lt like glue on my fingers, and every part of my body reeked of cigarette smoke. Still, none of that mattered. Cash was building in my apron. The wad had become so big, I had to break it up into two separate folds, and the other pocket was almost overflowing with chips.
“Rae?” a man said from behind me.
I was setting my last bottle on one of the tables, and I froze from the sound of him speaking my name. The depth of his husky voice was a sound I knew without having to see who it belonged to—not just because I’d heard it so often, but because it used to vibrate across my skin and sear into my memory.
I didn’t turn around. I just kept facing the table.
I wasn’t ready for those eyes, that mouth; those hands, so achingly familiar. The memory of them hurt. They’d left me too suddenly to represent anything but pain now.
“Rae,” he repeated. “It’s me.”
There was nowhere to go. If I wanted to move around him, I was going to have to turn and face him. So I did…but slowly. I kept my breath in my lungs so he wouldn’t see how he’d knocked the air out of me. My stare moved from the ground to his boots. I didn’t recognize them…and of course, I wouldn’t have. Why would he still have the same boots he’d had so long ago? But they were definitely something he’d wear—full of style and terribly expensive.
My eyes moved up the height of him. His dark jeans outlined the muscles in his thighs, and his shirt hinted at what was beneath the thin material. I knew what was under it: the feel of his skin, its taste, its smell. I knew the warmth of his arms, and how much it had stung when they’d released me…forever.
When my eyes reached his neck, my entire body stiffened. My mouth turned dry and my hands started to shake. The tray was empty, so I flipped it around and clutched it against my chest like a shield. “Hart Booker,” I whispered. It was so loud in that room from all the chatter and the clanking of chips. But he nodded, and I knew he’d heard me. Then I dared to look at his face…finally. A few days’ worth of medium-brown scruff covered his cheeks. His eyes—the lightest blue, almost silver—glimmered back at me. They weren’t always that color, but when they were, they could be the most honest eyes I’d ever looked into.