by Marie Astor
“Mila! You’re late again!” The manager, Anton’s younger brother Roman, yelled at Mila as she made her way through the restaurant door.
Mila checked her watch. It was ten to seven, but Roman insisted that all the waitresses got to work twenty minutes before their shift to have ample time to change and make themselves presentable. Technically, this rule was not supposed to apply to Mila; she was a hostess manager, a position to which she had been elevated after she started sleeping with Anton. It was supposed to be more prestigious than waitressing, but in the end it turned out to be a ruse. Mila had thought she’d make tons of money from patrons desperate for a table, but she didn’t get to decide on the seating; Roman did and he made a nifty profit from it. It wasn’t like she got to manage anyone. Anton and Roman called all the shots. Of course the real boss was Anton’s uncle, Petr Kovar. Mila didn’t really know him well since he’d only stopped by the restaurant a few times since she had started working there. Petr Kovar was one of the richest men in Eastern Europe. The press called him a self-made billionaire. Officially, Petr Kovar’s business interests spanned from manufacturing to fast food to real estate, but it was also said that he was involved in money laundering, prostitution, and even drugs. If that were the case, Mila hadn’t been able to get her hands on the evidence to support it. She had tried her hardest to find some dirt on the Kovars; until she did, she’d be stuck slaving away for Anton. “You’ll just have to fill in for me while I change, Roman,” she snapped.
“Oh, I’d love to fill you in, honey.” Roman stared at her breasts, scratching the stubble on his chin.
“Why don’t you concentrate on more realistic objectives, like getting a shave?” Mila pushed past Roman, making her way to the changing room downstairs.
She slipped out of her clothes and grabbed her uniform from a hanger; it was a sleek black dress with an expensive designer label. Mila shook her head, remembering the excitement she had first felt when wearing this very dress. Back then a job at the Panther Restaurant and Lounge Club had seemed like an opportunity of a lifetime. How could she have known that it would lead her to a dead end?
Focus, Mila thought. Take it one day at a time. Yes, you’re sleeping with a man you can’t stand, and yes, you’re stuck working in this hellhole, but you will find a way to get out. When you do, you’ll be very rich. She’d been reciting this mantra for what felt like an eternity. It was shocking to think that just a little over eight months ago her life had been perfect. Mila zipped up her uniform and threw back her shoulders, catching her reflection in the mirror. She mustn’t let all this stress take a toll on her looks. After all, her looks were her main asset, and a considerable one at that: long legs, slim hips, ample breasts. Her chestnut hair fell over her shoulders in luxurious waves; men found the blue of her eyes alluring and the fullness of her lips inviting. Too bad there were no serious takers, but then Anton Kovar had a way of cutting off competition. Not that Mila would leave him, not before she made Anton Kovar rue the day he turned her into his personal slave.
“Hey there, Mila, how is it going?” Susan, one of the waitresses, greeted her.
“It’s going,” Mila grumbled. “Did Roman chew you out about being late?”
Susan nodded as she pinned up her red mane into a loose bun. “He tried, but he had to take his words back when I threatened to quit on the spot. Tonight is my last night. Jake proposed. We’re going to Monaco for our honeymoon.” Susan proudly displayed an enormous diamond ring on her left hand.
“Wow,” was all Mila could manage. She knew that jealousy wasn’t healthy, but at the moment she was incapable of stifling the crippling emotion. Susan had met Jake during one of her shifts less than three months ago. Instantly he’d started lavishing her with expensive gifts, taking her to fancy restaurants, and had even rented an apartment for her, and now he was putting a ring on her finger. Of course the fact that Jake was in his mid-fifties, bald and pudgy, with three failed marriages behind him probably had something to do with it, but so what? Anton was handsome and hung like a horse, but he was a cheap brute, and Mila hated his guts.
“Don’t you worry, honey. Your day will come too!” Susan assured her. “If I can land a good guy, so can you.”
“I know. Thanks Susan.” Why was it that beautiful women always liked to downplay their looks? Mila took pride in assessing her competition; there was no denying that Susan was drop dead gorgeous. She looked just like Julia Roberts had looked in Pretty Woman, minus the trashy clothes. Men went wild for her. Still, even Susan had to settle for an old geezer. Maybe Mila was asking for too much after all. “Well, I’ll see you upstairs. Send me a postcard from Monaco.”
Mila assumed her position at the hostess stand and plastered a welcoming smile on her face. The Panther Restaurant and Lounge Club clientele was exclusive, and they expected to be treated accordingly. It was seven o’clock, which was early for the more fashionable crowd that would start arriving around eight-thirty or nine. Personally, Mila disagreed with habits of the elite; she never ate after six o’clock.
“Good evening. Welcome to the Panther Restaurant and Lounge Club,” Mila greeted a middle-aged couple. Probably an anniversary dinner, she thought. Dressed in a gray suit, the man looked tired from a day at the office. The wife, on the other hand, had the carefully put-together look of a woman who had spent the whole day preparing for a night out. They’ll be on the train to the suburbs at ten o’clock, Mila thought. “Let me show you to your table,” she said brightly.
Mila made her way to one of the tables closer to the entrance. There were plenty of better tables available, but the policy was to stick the less important patrons with crappy real estate. More than half of the time people sheepishly agreed to what they were offered; as with everything else in life, the ballsier ones got better options.
The husband was about to slide into one of the chairs, but the wife frowned with disapproval. “Couldn’t we get one of those tables in the back of the room?”
“Certainly,” Mila replied succinctly, turning on her heels. It was obvious who wore the pants in that union.
After she had finally gotten rid of the finicky wife and her doormat husband, Mila returned to the hostess stand.
“I’m going to need you to do double duty tomorrow,” Roman said. “Susan quit, so you’ll have to take her shift.”
“How am I supposed to waitress and host at the same time?” Mila snapped. Roman was even more annoying than his older brother.
“I’ll do most of the hosting, but you’ll split the tips with me.”
Great, Mila thought. As if lazy pig Roman were not getting paid enough already.
“I gotta take a crap,” Roman grunted and sauntered off.
Mila clutched the edges of the stand until her knuckles turned white. One day at a time, she thought, take it one day at a time. Her attention was diverted to a young woman entering the restaurant. She looked to be about Mila’s age. Brown hair, green eyes: good, but not spectacular body. Mila made a quick tally that she always did when encountering a member of the female sex. A blind date probably, Mila concluded based on the woman’s slightly nervous look. Mila glanced at the bar section and wondered which one of the men was the woman’s date. The pickings looked slim; unless of course the individual in question didn’t bother to show up at all.
“Excuse me,” the woman addressed Mila, “I was wondering if you have any openings?”
“Pardon me?” Mila asked, surprised at the question.
“Do you have any job openings? I’m looking for a job.”
Objectively speaking, evenings were not the best time to show up in a restaurant looking for work, but tonight the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. “Do you have waitressing experience?”
The woman blinked. “Um, yes, I waitressed all through college. I recently lost my job as a marketing assistant, and I need the income. I’m sure I could brush up real quick.”
Mila grinned. Good thing that Roman wasn’t there to hear this winning pitc
h. He’d send the girl packing in no time, but Mila didn’t intend to wear herself out with waitressing and hosting when she had to give half her tips to Roman, so the girl was getting hired. “Good. Come tomorrow at five o’clock. Your shift starts at seven. I’ll show you the ropes. Say that you worked at Pastis for a year. I know a manager there, her name is Amy Walsh; she’ll back up the story.”
The girl’s eyes widened with surprise at this unexpected kindness. The poor thing had no idea that Mila’s response was driven by purely selfish reasons. “Thank you,” she murmured.
“What’s your name?”
“Janet … Janet Maple.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Janet. I’m Mila.”
“Very nice to meet you, Mila, and thank you.”
“See you tomorrow. Don’t be late.”
Just then Roman reappeared by Mila’s side. “I thought I was going to clog the toilet.” Mila pretended not to hear. “Who was that?” he added.
“Our new waitress. Her name is Janet Maple and she starts tomorrow.”
“You hired a waitress without checking with me first?”
“I didn’t want to distract you from your important task.”
“You good for nothing— You think that just because my brother is screwing you, you can give me lip? Just wait until Anton hears of this!”
“I’m sure Anton will be happy to know that I found Susan’s replacement on such a short notice. The girl is pretty and she’s got waitressing experience. She’ll fit right in.”
“Where did she work?”
“Pastis.”
“I’m going to call them, and if the references don’t check out—”
“The references will check out,” Mila cut Roman off. Amy was a good friend; the only friend Mila had in New York, and she would do anything Mila asked.
Chapter 5
“What do you mean you can’t meet me after work tonight?” Dennis asked. “We had plans. We were going to have dinner and go over Libby’s file.”
“I just can’t,” Janet retorted. “Something came up.” She had never been a good liar, and she certainly did not want to lie to Dennis. Neither did she want to tell him that she had gotten a waitressing job at the Panther restaurant, not yet.
“Is everything all right?”
“Everything is fine, Dennis. I have to do something with my mom. It’s a family thing.”
“Oh, all right. If it’s family stuff, I understand,” Dennis relented. Considering how little Dennis said about his family, he certainly was in no position to criticize anyone for doing the same.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Janet rose from her seat. It was four-thirty, and if she was going to make it to her new job on time, she had to leave now. Thankfully, she was already dressed. It was going to be a long day, but she didn’t like her job because it was easy.
At five o’clock on the dot Janet walked through the door of the Panther Restaurant and Lounge Club.
“You’ve made it,” Mila greeted her.
“Yes, hello,” Janet could feel her nerves kicking in. Suddenly, she began to doubt the whole idea. The last time she waitressed was in her freshman year of college. She didn’t last very long: she’d quit after the first week and got a job at the library instead. How was she going to pull this off?
Mila eyed Janet’s high heeled shoes. “You won’t last very long in these. Come on, I’ll show you where the changing room is.” Mila headed towards the staircase and Janet followed her.
“What dress size are you?” Mila asked.
“A six,” Janet gulped. Six was a perfectly good size in her opinion, but she guessed that Mila was a four or maybe even a two.
Mila plucked a sleek black dress off the hanger. “This should fit. They used to order a new dress for each girl, but we’ve had lots of defections lately and they’re recycling. It’s been dry cleaned. Don’t worry, the girl who wore it before you only worked here for a month.”
“I don’t mind,” Janet lied. She was seriously considering walking out this very moment. “The material looks expensive,” she added to sound more convincing.
“Don’t let it fool you. This place is as cheap as can be. What size shoes do you wear?”
“A nine.”
“Me too. Here, you can wear my shoes for tonight.” Mila handed Janet a pair of tasteful two-inch heels. “They’re still dressy, but walkable. The things you have on will give you sciatica.”
“Thanks!”
“When you change, come up upstairs, and I’ll show you the tables.”
Janet hurriedly pulled off her dress and slipped into her uniform. Surprisingly, it fit her to a T. The material had an expensive feel to it and the tailoring was exquisite. She slipped into Mila’s shoes and pulled up her hair, applying a coat of lipstick to her lips. This was an upscale restaurant, and she had to look the part, which was why she had worn the stilettos in the first place, but apparently she had overdone it. She had a lot to learn.
“Who are you?” were the first words that Janet heard when she returned upstairs. They came from a tall, burly-looking man with dark hair, red, thick lips, and large brown eyes. There was something bovine in his expression that gave his face a repulsive look. The black curly hair poking from the opened collar of his shirt completed the picture.
“I’m Janet … Janet Maple, the new waitress.”
“Mila!!!” the man yelled.
“Yes?” Mila appeared by Janet’s side. “Oh good, you changed. Now we can get to work. By the way, this is Roman; he’s the junior manager.”
“I am the manager,” Roman snarled. “Get to work you two. You and me, we will get to know each other later,” he added to Janet.
“Don’t mind him,” Mila muttered, shoving a menu into Janet’s hands. “You have to know all the dishes by heart. We take orders without taking notes. Everything is committed to memory, and that’s not counting the specials, which change daily.”
The instructions that were imparted on Janet over the next two hours were overwhelming to say the least. She didn’t remember waitressing being this complicated, but then she had never worked at a five star restaurant before.
“Don’t sweat it,” Mila assured her. “I’ll be there to help you out if you need me. Of course I get half of your tips while you’re in training.”
Janet nodded. She didn’t get this job for the tips. “Do the busboys get their share after that?”
“Don’t you worry about the busboys. While you’re in training, I’m the only one you need to share with.”
Before she knew it, it was seven o’clock. Janet smoothed her dress and ran her hands over her hair. Just relax, she thought, you are here to learn about Petr Kovar. Make friends with the staff, try to get them to open up and keep an eye on the patrons. Waitressing is only a cover up. How hard can it be?
“Janet!” Mila’s voice snapped Janet to attention. “I need you on table one right now.”
“Be right there.” Janet hurried to table one, or at least she was fairly certain that it was table one since it was the closest table to the entrance.
“Good evening, my name is Janet. I will be taking care of you this evening,” she rattled off the greeting that Mila had drummed into her.
“Taking care of us? I like that,” said one of the men at the table. He was dressed in a collared shirt with blue stripes, suspenders, and a purple tie. His hair was slicked back, curling upwards at his neck.
“Easy there, Gary,” said the man’s companion. “The girls will be here any minute. We’re waiting for the rest of our party to arrive,” the man explained to Janet, pointing at the two empty chairs.
“I see. Would you like anything to drink in the meantime?” Janet offered.
“I’ll have vodka on the rocks,” said the second man.
“I’ll have a cucumber martini,” said the guy with the suspenders.
“I will be right back with your order,” Janet assured them, praying that she wouldn’t forget the said order on the spot.
<
br /> “Janet! I need you on table three!” Mila’s words intercepted Janet just as she was about to give the drinks order to the bartender.
“All right, but first I have to get drinks for table one,” Janet panted.
“Just leave the order with a busboy; it’s his job to bring the food and the drinks or haven’t you been listening to anything I told you today?”
“I have,” Janet assured her. “I just wasn’t sure which busboy.”
“Rodrigo is assigned to table one,” Mila snapped, as though this was common knowledge.
After Janet explained table one’s needs to Rodrigo, she hurried to table three. Thankfully its occupants were a couple on a date who only had eyes for each other and didn’t give Janet a hard time.
“Hey there, sweetheart, how about our drinks?” demanded the man with suspenders from table one.
“I’ll go check on your order right now,” Janet replied, wondering if this waitressing thing was a good idea after all. She was so frantic that even if Petr Kovar walked in this very moment and shook hands with Julius Libby, she wouldn’t even notice. Calm down, Janet thought, this is only your first day. It will get better. Well, at least she hoped it would get better; either that or she was going to lose her head.
***
As he followed Janet from a safe distance, Dennis Walker assured himself that he was not doing anything wrong. He was merely making sure that Janet was all right. She had sounded so agitated earlier; all he wanted was to be there in case she needed him. Of course he tried to convince himself that the fact that Janet had cancelled their date for the first time since they started seeing each other didn’t make him jealous or suspicious. He failed miserably at all of the above, for while Dennis would be the first to admit that he was not perfect by any means, dishonesty was not one of his flaws.
The truth was that he was jealous as hell. The thought of Janet being with another guy made him want to wrap his hands around the imaginary culprit’s throat and squeeze, slowly. Which was why Dennis was trailing Janet now, carefully keeping his distance. Did he approve of his actions? Absolutely not, but he was powerless to resist the crazy impulse inside him. He would be the first to admit that he had trust issues. After his fiancée had left him in the lurch, it had been hard for him to trust women again. Janet had been the only woman he had allowed himself to get serious with, and the prospect of being hurt again scared him.