Rick chuckled. “It’s an acquired taste. Or so I’ve been told.”
“Well.” She glanced at the folders. “I need to get these to the file room. Thanks for coming to my rescue. Again.”
Rick cocked his head, one brow lifting. “Again?”
“I—I mean…thanks, again. You know because…um…I already thanked you once,” she babbled, her cheeks burning as he studied her intently. Had she thanked him? She was so discombobulated she didn’t remember.
“Have we met?”
“No.”
“Are you sure? You seem familiar.”
“I’ve been working here for several months. You’ve probably seen me around the office.”
His eyes narrowed and Amy forced herself not to squirm under his scrutiny. The last thing she needed was for him to recognize her from Stylus. Logan-Johnson was a professional firm with an outstanding reputation. She doubted Adam or Nick would approve of one of their employees wearing a skimpy outfit and serving cocktails on weekends. Especially at a club where several of their clients frequented. Granted, Stylus was vastly different from the club she’d worked at outside of Barstow after she’d had Danny, but she’d learned the hard way that even the most innocent of things could be twisted to suit someone else’s narrative.
“I—I need to get these files put away. Have a nice evening.” She gave him a smile then stepped around him and hurried to the records room.
Rick watched the blonde until she disappeared from sight, then frowned. Why did she seem so familiar? Shaking his head, he turned and headed back to the conference room. When he entered, it wasn’t hard to miss the tension permeating the air. No surprise there. That’s what usually happened whenever Trey was in the same room with Adam’s senior executive assistant, Jade O’Brien. Their animosity was mutual, which left Rick to surmise something unpleasant must have gone down between them during what Trey had referred to as his ‘douchebag period.’
Rick took his seat across from Trey and Jade, then focused his attention on Adam. “Sorry for the delay. I literally ran into one of your employees outside the restroom. Knocked her flat on her ass.”
Jade let out a soft gasp. “Is she okay?”
He nodded, remembering the cute blonde’s flushed cheeks. “She’s fine. No broken bones.”
“Glad to hear it.” Adam leaned back in his chair. “Rick, the reason I asked you to stick around after our meeting is that I need to talk to you and Trey about the incident at Stylus on Friday night. There’s cell phone footage of an altercation in the VIP lounge involving the two of you, one of the servers, and several customers. The video has been making the rounds on social media since it happened.”
“So what?” Trey grumbled. “We weren’t involved in the incident. We just witnessed it.”
“He’s right.” Rick nodded. “The server was deliberately tripped by one of the customers and after the manager fired her we stepped in to let him know we saw the whole thing.”
“We saved her job,” Trey added hotly.
“Calm down.” Adam raised a hand. “I had to ask. I got a call from the Blaze media relations department first thing this morning. They’ve gotten a few inquiries and wanted details in case it turns into a bigger deal. Like it or not, you’re both under a lot more scrutiny than the average citizen. Especially when you’re out in public. Please remember—”
Trey slapped his palm against the table so hard the water glasses on the table shook. “You think we don’t know that?” he said, cutting Adam off in a tone edged with bitterness. “For Christ’s sake. I still get complete strangers coming up to me and calling me a rapist. And you know what? I never say a damn thing, or defend myself, because I know it won’t matter. People believe what they want to believe.” He shook his head and blew out a harsh breath. “I’ve had it with you telling me how I should behave. You weren’t the one falsely accused of something you didn’t do. I’m done trying to prove to everyone that I’ve changed,” Trey added, giving Jade a cursory glance before crossing his arms over his chest and fixing Adam with a defiant glare.
A stunned silence filled the room. During the entire time Rick had been back on the team, Trey had never once confided in him about the fallout from the false accusation. It still affected him deeply judging by his terse outburst.
“Rick. Jade,” Adam said calmly. “Would you please step out? I’d like to speak to Trey alone.”
Rising from his chair, Rick waited at the door for Jade to precede him into the hallway. “I’ll wait for you in the lobby,” he said to Trey, then closed the door behind him as he left the room.
“Would you prefer to wait for Trey in my office?” Jade asked politely.
“Thanks, but the lobby’s fine. I’m sure you still have work to do and I’d be in the way.”
She nodded. “I didn’t realize Trey was still so upset about Ava’s false accusation.”
“He doesn’t talk about it.”
“Maybe he should.” Despite the animosity between Jade and Trey, she seemed genuinely concerned.
“Yeah. I think you’re right.”
At five o’clock, Rick found himself sitting on a comfortable wing-back chair in Logan-Johnson’s reception area when the door near the receptionist’s counter opened. He looked up expecting Trey, but it was the blonde he’d knocked down in the hallway who stepped into the lobby. Her eyes widened behind her glasses, then she gave him a tentative smile as she moved toward him. He set the magazine he’d been thumbing through on the low table in front of him and got to his feet.
“I’m glad to see you’re in one piece,” he said with a grin.
She secured the straps of her tote bag on her shoulder, then tightened the belt of her coat. “Only my pride was hurt,” she replied with amusement. “Are you waiting for Mr. Gentry?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s still in the conference room with Adam.”
Rick frowned. It hit him again that there was something familiar about her. Even her voice sparked a memory, but he couldn’t place where, or when he might have met her. Attractive in an understated way, she wore minimal makeup and her golden blonde hair was cut an inch or so above her shoulders and curled under just slightly. Behind her dark-rimmed glasses, her eyes appeared to be hazel, or maybe green.
“Are you sure we haven’t met before?”
Her smile faltered slightly. “You probably passed me in the hall when you were here before.”
“Right,” he said even though he still wasn’t completely convinced. She lifted her hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. A bright blue pear-shaped earring dangled from her lobe. A sapphire. And probably the only gemstone he’d recognize on sight because it was the September birthstone and he’d bought Jill a sapphire ring on the last birthday she’d celebrated.
“What’s your name?” Maybe that would jog his memory.
Before she could answer, the door opened and a scowling Trey strode into the reception area. “Kamu’s. Now,” he said, moving with grim determination toward the elevator.
Rick grimaced. “It may be a long night,” he said, then followed Trey to the elevator. Expecting the blonde to be right behind him, he turned to find she’d disappeared.
Odd. It looked like she was leaving for the day. Maybe he’d spooked her by asking her if they’d met before. There were a lot of jerks out there. He didn’t blame her for being wary.
Still, even though she’d denied it, he couldn’t shake the feeling they’d crossed paths somewhere before today. But where?
4
“Mom, did you know that penny-sized hail can fall from the sky at speeds up to forty miles per hour?”
At the kitchen sink, Amy rinsed the last dinner plate and placed it on the drying rack that sat on top of the weathered, avocado green Formica counter. “No. I’ve never heard that.”
“And softball-sized hail can punch holes in roofs. Man, I’ve never seen hail that big.” There was a hint of awe in her son’s voice. “I bet it could knock you out if it hit you on
the head.”
She chuckled. Danny was watching Weather Channel videos again. “Possibly.”
“It might even kill you.” Danny tossed her iPad on the cushion, slid off the couch, and shuffled toward her. “Do you wanna know what I put on my Christmas list for Santa?”
“I already know,” she said as she removed the stopper so the water could drain from the sink. Grabbing the dish towel from the counter, she dried her hands.
“No you don’t!” he exclaimed. “My list is top secret. It’s only for Santa’s eyes.”
She rested her hip against the edge of the sink as he hopped onto one of the wooden stools on the other side of the counter. “Then why did you ask me if I wanted to know what’s on it?”
“Well, duh, Mom.” The exasperated look he gave her was comical. “So you when you talk to Santa you can tell him what you’re getting me so I don’t end up with two of the same thing.”
“Oh, right.” She loved that Danny still believed in Santa. For a while longer he’d still be her little boy. “How could I forget my yearly convo with Santa? So, what’s on your list?”
“A phone,” Danny replied without missing a beat.
“We’ve talked about this before. You can have a phone when you’re thirteen but not before.” She tossed the dish towel on the counter. “And Santa agrees.”
“But that’s so far away,” Danny whined. “It’ll be forever until I’m thirteen.”
“It’ll come soon enough, trust me.” She tried not to smile as he rolled his eyes. “What else is on your list?”
“A baseball glove.”
Her jaw dropped. “Since when do you like baseball?”
“Since I went to Blaze Field,” he said as his expression became animated. “We played catch and ran the bases. It was fun. And Mr. Taylor said I have a good arm.”
Amy’s heart skipped a beat. “Rick Taylor?”
“Yeah. I was in his group.” Danny folded his arms on top of the counter. “He was nice. We even talked about clouds. He doesn’t know much about them.”
She shook her head and smiled. “I’m sure he appreciated the lesson.”
“He thinks I’m smart, Mom. Not weird.”
“Then he’s an excellent judge of character.” She swallowed past the emotion lodged in her throat. She would never be able to tell Rick how his kindness had affected her son, but she was grateful for it just the same.
“Can I have a bowl of ice cream before you go to work?” Danny asked, his sweet tooth overriding the all-important Santa list.
“Yes. But I’m going to let Mrs. O’Brien know you’ve already had dessert. No conning her out of another bowl after I leave, got it?”
“Got it. Can we go to the Exploratorium tomorrow?”
The hopeful expression on his face caused a pang of guilt to shoot through her. She opened the cupboard to the right of the sink, retrieved a plastic bowl, and set it on the counter. “We’ll go soon.”
“That’s what you always say. We’ve been here forever and we still haven’t gone.” Dejected, he dropped his gaze to the counter and traced an old burn mark on its surface with his index finger. “You promised.” The glumness in his voice tugged at her heart and suddenly the tip money she’d earn tonight seemed better spent on something fun for Danny than deposited in her savings account. A trip to the Exploratorium wouldn’t set her back that much.
“We’ve only been here five months, not forever. But you’re right. I did promise.” She crossed the short distance to the refrigerator, opened the upper freezer compartment and grabbed Danny’s favorite ice cream: chocolate chip cookie dough. “How about this; next Friday is the day after Thanksgiving and I have the day off. We can go to the Exploratorium in the morning and then get lunch afterward.”
“Yes!” Excitement shone in Danny’s eyes. “You’re the best, Mom.”
Several hours later, after leaving Danny in the capable hands of Jade’s mother, Amy checked on her group at table five. The three men and two women had arrived in the VIP lounge when the club opened and had gotten progressively more inebriated as the night wore on. The only reason she hadn’t cut them off was that they had purchased the Platinum VIP package that included a chauffeured limo. They wouldn’t be driving drunk. Not tonight anyway.
There were nights when she wondered why she’d thought working at the club was a good idea, and this was one of those nights. The guest DJ’s musical selection was too techno-driven for her liking, and between the repetitive beat of the music and the heightened chatter of customers, her head was starting to throb. It also didn’t help that one of the guys at table five was straddling the line between flirty and obnoxious. So far he hadn’t gotten handsy, but it wasn’t closing time yet. She’d managed to evade him so far by standing out of his reach when she inquired about refills. After committing their order to memory, she collected what empty glasses she could from their table and made her way toward the bar.
“I’m calling it now,” Amy said, moving to stand between Cynda and Ronnie, who were parked at the server well at the bar, waiting for their drink orders. “The guy at table five will grab my ass before the end of the night.” Both Cynda and Ronnie turned to eyeball the table while she punched the drink codes on the touchscreen.
“So far I’ve lucked out. No ass grabbers for me,” Ronnie said, then tapped her knuckles on the bar. “Knock on wood.”
Cynda let out a soft snort. “Some of these posers have zero respect for women. They think it’s okay to disrespect us because we work in a nightclub.”
Cynda wasn’t far from the truth. There were many men who assumed women who worked in clubs or bars were promiscuous. And a good number of those men didn’t hesitate to make crude propositions or even offer money in exchange for sex. Having worked in the service industry for the better part of the last ten years, Amy had developed her own tactics for fending off unwanted advances and crude remarks and hadn’t expected Stylus to be different from any of the other establishments where she’d worked. There were jerks everywhere.
“I worked at a small mom-and-pop diner during high school,” Amy said. “Our uniforms were modest and we still had problems with harassment. It doesn’t matter what we wear, it’s going to happen.”
“That’s why Brock hired bouncers,” Ronnie said. “If anyone steps over the line they get tossed.”
“Speaking of Brock,” Cynda said. “Guess who I saw leaving his office when I came in to pick up my check this morning?”
“Who?” Amy and Ronnie asked in unison.
“Kirby Ferrara.”
“I wonder what she was doing here,” Ronnie mused.
“Probably dropping off her dry cleaning bill.” Amy nodded at Buddy as he set two martinis, then three bottles of beer on Cynda’s tray. “Or making another case for my termination.”
“I’m sure Brock kissed her ass big-time. If she were to become a regular he’s guaranteed to draw a crowd. She and her friends are the Kardashians of San Francisco. Wherever they go, people follow.” Cynda rearranged the glasses on her tray, then continued, “Oh hey, I forgot to tell you that I saw a video of that blow-out you had with her last week on my Instagram feed.”
“What?” Amy’s skin prickled with unease. “A video?”
Her alarm must have shown on her face. Cynda gave her arm a reassuring pat. “Relax, sweetie. They didn’t get the part where you fell flat on your face. It was afterward. When those jocks saved you from getting canned. The audio is terrible. It’s hard to hear anything.”
“She’s right,” Ronnie chimed in. “I saw it too. You can’t even see your face. It was shot from behind.”
Amy’s shoulders sagged with relief. The last thing she wanted was for her image to be plastered on social media. But at least she would be hard to recognize if it had.
“Well, well.” Cynda looked over Amy’s shoulder, a sly grin curving her lips. “Look who’s back.”
“Please tell me it’s not Kirby Ferrara.” Grimacing, Amy half-turned and followed Cynda
’s gaze. Her stomach fluttered wildly at the sight of Rick Taylor, Trey Gentry, and two of the players they’d been with a week ago, being escorted by the hostess to one of the open tables in Cynda’s assigned area.
“Girl, it’s definitely not Kirby Ferrara.” Cynda picked up her tray, then turned and moved with perfect grace toward her section.
For the next hour Amy was slammed. Not only was her entire section filled, but Brock had granted special access to a group of young, attractive women from the first floor and they’d congregated in the conversation pit Amy was also assigned to. A number of men who were already in the VIP lounge had joined the women, and she had her hands full taking care of their drink orders.
Although she was busy, she couldn’t help but be aware of Rick Taylor’s presence in the room. As she moved back and forth between the bar and her section, she found herself sneaking surreptitious glances at him. Winding her way to the bar, she set her tray down and began unloading the empties. Buddy, who’d been talking to the other bartender, moved toward her and started transferring the glasses to the sink under the bar. “You okay?” he asked. “You look a little pale.”
“I have a bit of a headache.” She gave him a wan smile. “This wig is too damn tight.”
Buddy barked out a laugh. “Do you need something for your head? Aspirin?”
“If you’ve got it. Thanks.”
“Coming right up,” he said, then moved to the other end of the bar.
While Buddy was searching for the aspirin, Amy sought Rick Taylor’s reflection in the mirror behind the bar. There were now three women sitting at the table with the players and one of them—a beautiful brunette—had captured Rick’s attention. Her jaw tightened as something that felt a lot like jealousy surged through her.
Just look away.
But she couldn’t. They made a striking couple.
Buddy returned, forcing her to drag her gaze away from Rick’s table. “Here you go.” He handed her a small travel tin of aspirin.
“Thanks. I’ll be right back.”
Playing for Keeps (Feeling the Heat Book 6) Page 5