Reggie turned brown eyes on Riley, his grin mischievous. “You returned. I was sure Gideon and Magnus scared you off.”
Riley chuckled tightly. “No.” She turned her gaze on Octavian and gave him a cutting smirk. “I don’t scare easily.”
Octavian said nothing, but he leaned a hip against the counter and folded his arms in a manner that insisted he was silently challenging her. The fire in his eyes burned through her, making her painfully self-conscious of just how dangerous the game being played was. But there was more at stake than the sparks dancing between them. There was a thin piece of thread holding up her pride and somehow, by breaking that connection, she was severing that tie. So she hung on, returning his bold stare even as her cheeks flushed and the urge to drop her gaze became almost unbearable. Her heart rocketed in her chest, growing embarrassingly violent with every passing second and she briefly wondered if he could hear it, because the rest of the world had gone unusually silent around them. Even the music had faded so it felt like they were completely alone, but she couldn’t look away to check.
Reggie cleared his throat, tearing out the bottom of their bubble and dropping them unceremoniously back into reality. “So, not to interrupt this very R-rated moment, but the kitchen is this way.”
Riley flushed, dropping her gaze. But even then, she could feel Octavian’s eyes sweeping over her, warming her skin beneath the sweater she now wished she hadn’t worn. The stifling heat was overwhelming. It pulsed off her in waves. But she sucked in a deep breath and, with as much dignity as she could muster, she lifted her chin and turned to the boy at her side. “Lead the way.”
Reggie made a dramatic gesture with his arms, propelling her away from the bar and the man that needed a handle with extreme caution sign. Riley followed, curious as to where her kneecaps had gone. They seemed to have been missing as she fought not to let her legs completely desert her. A tiny voice at the back of her mind prodded the wisdom of working with a man that had that kind of power over her with only a mere glance. It certainly could not be a good thing. Weakness was weakness no matter which way it was turned and Riley disliked being weak.
As a dare to herself, she stole a peek back over her shoulder, merely to prove to herself that he had no power over her or her knees, that she was in control. Bad idea all in all when she found him watching after her with a look that said very clearly that this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
She was so screwed.
Chapter 4
“Okay, so this is where the magic happens.” Reggie pushed open the doors leading into a spacious kitchen and held them open for Riley to pass through. The music faded when the doors swung closed behind them, locking them in with the scent of grease, fried meat and pine cleaner.
Riley had never been inside a restaurant kitchen before, but she knew enough to find the enormous, wall to wall stone fireplace a bit out of date. A fire leapt in the grate, licking the bottom of a giant, cast iron cauldron. Steam rose from inside, filling the room with the subtle scent of vegetables and meat. On the opposite wall, beneath the window overlooking the dining area, was a row of granite counters that curved left. It was interrupted by a stone basin before continuing on to stop next to a wood cook stove. A massive, solid oak preparation table sat in the center of everything, cluttered with pots, vegetables and an assortment of herbs, slabs of meat and powders Riley didn’t recognize.
A mountain of a man stood behind the stove, flipping burgers in an old fashioned iron skillet with one hand and stirring a saucepan with the other. He cast them a brief glance before going back to his task. His dark chocolate skin glistened with sweat that he wiped away with a beefy forearm.
“That’s Gorje,” Reggie said with a nod towards the hulk of a man. “Gorje, our new waitress, Riley Masters.”
Wiping meaty hands on his stained apron, Gorje turned to them. He took one look at Riley and jerked back as though he couldn’t believe the rubbish Reggie was introducing him to. “She’s—”
“Short?” Reggie intervened sharply. “Yeah, I guess we’ll have to help her with those high shelves. Moving along!” He took a hold of Riley’s shoulders and forcibly maneuvered her in the opposite direction before she could discover what the hell the look of disgust on Gorje’s face was for.
They went past a walk-in freezer toward three sets of doors just past the kitchen, down a wide corridor. The two on the right led into a broom closet and a storage area choked with boxes. The third opened to a long, dark hallway. Riley poked her head in to have a better look, but Reggie was closing the door before she could see anything else.
“That’s the family living area,” he informed her, motioning her back towards the final door off the kitchen.
Riley hurried to catch up. “You guys live here?”
He eyed her with a droll stare. “Have you seen the size of this place? Of course we don’t.” He took several heel to toe steps backwards, still watching her with eyes that glinted with mischief. “It’s much too small.”
His sarcasm had her lips twitching even as she rolled her eyes. “Har-har.”
Grinning, he flipped around to face forward. He led her to an opening tucked away opposite of the kitchen. There was a round table taking up most of the space, surrounded by four mismatched chairs. Beyond it was a coatrack, six lockers and a door that looked like it led into a washroom. On her right, a large, metal shelving system took up what little space was left. It was choked by organized and neatly labeled Rubbermaid containers.
“I think Mom’s borderline OCD,” Reggie said, catching her staring at the shelving unit. “Octavian got her a label maker for her birthday last year and she’s gone around labeling everything, even the light switches, like we might wake up one morning and forget what they’re for.”
Riley laughed. “Is that what the dead body was for? Revenge?”
Reggie glanced at her, face deadpan, but eyes glinting with that light she was quickly beginning to recognize as pure boyish impishness. “No, that was just for him being such a massive man-dork.”
“Man-dork.” Riley snickered. “So he’s usually this fun and cheerful with everyone?”
Reggie seemed to consider this a moment. “Octavian has his moments, but he’ll eventually rub off on you. We’re loveable like that.”
“He’s your brother, isn’t he?”
He stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked back onto his heels. “That’s what my parents claim, but I have my suspicions.”
“So how many of you are there?”
“Just the four,” he answered, moving deeper into the room. “I think you’ve met all of us.”
“Four boys.” She hissed through her teeth. “And your parents are still sane?”
Reggie cast her a lopsided grin. “Again, I have my suspicions.”
“So who’s older?”
“Octavian.” He seemed to think of something, glanced around and changed the subject. “So, this is the staff room. You can leave your stuff in one of the lockers.”
Riley nodded, moving forward, stripping her coat as she went. She picked the locker closest to the wall and stuffed her things inside. She closed the door and smoothed down her top before turning to Reggie again. He held out a neatly folded apron in faded black and a notepad and pen.
“Everything you may, or may not need, is in the bins.” He motioned to the Rubbermaids.
She accepted it with murmured thanks and tied the scrap of fabric around her waist. “Do I need a hairnet?” she asked.
He gestured for her to follow with a jerk of his head. “No, you’ll mainly be on the floor taking orders. The kitchen is open until eleven. After that, Gorje closes it up. Most of the people who come in after those hours, they’re not really looking for a meal anyway. It gets pretty crowded, but most of the people are more interested in drowning their sorrows rather than starting a fight. That’s not to say we don’t get our share of brawls, but we usually put a stop to it before it starts. If you run into trouble, just give a shout and one
of us will be there.”
She followed him quietly back through the kitchen towards the doors. He swung them open and led her through, talking the whole way.
“Any tips you make, you put into the jar at the counter. At the end of the night, someone will convert it for you. We don’t do the whole sharing thing so you keep what you make.” He turned his head over his shoulder to give her a once over. “But I would reconsider… that.” He gestured up and down at her.
Riley glanced down at her clothes. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
Reggie shrugged. “Nothing, but if you want the good tips… the later crowd get a bit more generous if you show a bit more… flesh.” At her baffled expression, he grinned. “Think about it.” Then he was strolling away to a nearby table full of women. He leaned over the back of one of their chairs and jumped right into a conversation with them.
“What does that even mean?” she called after him, but the low thrum of chatter through the room drowned her words.
“It means wear less.” Gideon stood leaning against the bar, a glass of something resembling apple juice, but probably wasn’t, in his hand.
Horrified, Riley gasped. “That’s not mandatory, is it?”
He shrugged mildly, studying her through thick lashes. “Mandatory? No. But men are pigs. They are bigger pigs when they’re drunk and have a pretty girl to ogle.”
There was no suppressing the hot wave of embarrassment that creeped into her cheeks. “Well, I’m not going to go strolling around naked—”
“I’m pretty sure we’re not licensed for naked waitresses.” He took a swig of his drink. “But I think we can just skim by on a partially naked one.” There was an unnatural grace to his movement as he pushed away from the bar and ambled lazily towards her. “Undo a few buttons, hike up that skirt a few more inches and lose the stockings. You’ll be a big hit.”
Bottom lip caught between his teeth, he gave her a once over that fueled the heat washing through her, before strolling away to a nearby empty table. He dropped unceremoniously into a chair and threw back the rest of his drink in a fluid motion.
Flustered, Riley turned away, tugging down on her shirt. No way was she going to dress sexy for a room full of drunken men. Yes, she needed the money, but she wasn’t going to sell her pride for it.
“Don’t listen to them.” Riley glanced up to find Octavian watching her, his expression frustratingly blank.
Embarrassment sharpened her voice when she spoke, “You don’t think I should lose a few buttons and hike up my skirt for tips?”
Octavian said nothing for a moment as his large hands worked deftly over the glass he held. His eyes roamed languidly over her in a way that felt almost physical. The phantom caress touched every inch of her body, stealing the last wisp of breath from her lungs. Liquid warmth rippled down her spine, arousing areas that had been dormant for much too long. The latter brought a flood of color to her cheeks.
Behind the slow dance of firelight, his eyes darkened. “Not unless you want me to start digging graves out back.” Then he reached beneath the counter with his free hand and drew out a plastic container. He passed it over to her. “The tables need to be cleared and since you’re adamant to be here…” He let his words trail off, but she got the hint.
Without a word, she took the bin and got to work.
The crowd was somber, most too preoccupied with whatever was troubling them to take notice of her as she made her rounds. She refilled drinks and brought out bowls of stew that smelled delicious but looked questionable. She mopped up spills, passed out checks and took really strange money to the till. It wasn’t Canadian currency that much she was sure of and when she showed Reggie, he assured her the bits of dented metal in silver, bronze and gold were perfectly acceptable.
“So how do I know what I’m getting paid?” she asked, staring down at the handful of coins. “Where are these even from?” She picked a bronze one up to study. “There’s nothing on them.”
Reggie patted her on the arm. “Don’t worry about it. Our customers would never short change us. Just toss it in the till and Dad will sort it out in the morning.”
Uncertain, but doing as she was told, she dumped everything into the till with only the one button that accessed the lever that popped open the drawer.
The rest of the night was fairly quiet, a sort of routine calm that she could easily get used to, even if the cliental sent a chill of unease through her.
It wasn’t anything anyone did or said. Most of the time, no one even spoke to her. But there was something not quite right about the crowd. Maybe it was the lightning in the room or grit in her eyes, she just couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that she was seeing things, weird things, things like massive wings unfurling, or massive clawed hands, or faces flickering like an old TV screen. It only happened when she looked at someone from the corner of her eye, but it was enough to make her question her sanity.
She pressed the tips of her fingers into the back of her eyelids, wondering if she should take a trip to an optometrist, or a shrink. No way was that normal. There was clearly something wrong with her.
But that wasn’t the only thing weird about the night. Several times, she could have sworn she felt eyes on her, not threatening, just watchful, almost protective, but when she would search the room, no one would even be paying attention to her. More often than not, she had a sneaking suspicion that it was Octavian, but he was always busy doing something else or talking to someone, usually a gorgeous woman or two that haunted the bar like flies on a giant pile of elephant poop. Their ever persistent presence never failed to irk Riley in a way that was highly unprofessional, not to mention insane. She had no claims over the guy. He could talk to anyone he wanted. Hell, he could do more than talk if the mood suited him, and the way he watched each woman, like they were the only one in the world to him, there was no way he was going to bed alone that night. It wouldn’t surprise her if he was riddled with all kinds of disease, and really, did she want to be attracted to a man that would pick women up from a bar? For all she knew, he took a new one to bed every night. Not that she cared. She was only upset that unlike every other woman, he’d given her one look and tossed her into the rubbish pile. True that she wasn’t nearly as beautiful as the women that flocked to him, but she… Get a grip! She scolded. Why on earth are you stressing over this?
“God, Riley,” she muttered to herself. “You’re so pathetic.”
She turned away from the disgusting display at the bar and searched the room for Reggie or Gideon, who seemed to have disappeared. She’d caught sight of Reggie every so often hovering over a table, chatting with the customers, but he rarely stayed put. She’d glance back and he’d be gone. But she hadn’t seen Gideon since his comment about her wardrobe. She wondered where the two kept taking off to and where was the other one… what was his name? Magnus? Such odd names, she mused. But then, everything from the people to the names of the drinks the bar served was odd. There was just something seriously wrong about naming drinks after body parts, like dead man’s toe nails and tonic or squeezed spleen juice. Just writing it down made her want to gag, never mind repeating it to Octavian or carrying it to the table.
“Hey, umano! How about some service over here!”
Riley turned, searching for the loud, gruff voice. She spotted the short, hairy little man waving his arm over his head. She made her way towards him, pen and pad in hand.
“What can I get you?” she asked, pen and pad poised.
The man was trollish with a long, pointy beard that touched his navel and hair that tumbled scraggly and thin around round shoulders. His face beneath all the hair was withered and a sunburned red. There were yellow splotches where most his eyes should have been white and the iris was a murky, dirty dishwater gray. Dry, cracked lips parted, revealing rotted and chipped teeth.
“Virgin’s Blood on the rocks.”
It took all her self-control not to make a face as she jotted it down, wondering if these
people knew she was new and went out of their way to try and shock her by inventing crude names for the drinks. “Anything else?”
He shook his head. “Not unless you want to offer me yours…” He leered at her, stubby tongue poking out to lick his lips.
Riley hurried away before she could puke on him. She made it all the way to the bar without gagging.
Octavian took in her ashen complexion and tightened his grip on the carving knife he’d been using to slice slivers of limes. “What is it?”
Riley breathed in a gulp of air, and replied, “Virgin’s Blood on the rocks.”
He eyed her for several long moments before reaching to create the foul sounding drink. “Did someone say something to you?”
Octavian's Undoing (Sons of Judgment) Page 5