Like yesterday he was dressed in a well-tailored suit. Please, not my table. But fate once again wasn’t on her side, and he sat down. He wasn’t alone either. The gentleman who accompanied him was dressed in more casual clothing and had a softer, friendlier, look on his face.
Making them wait any longer was asking for angry patrons. As she approached to take their order, her stomach did an odd flip-flop. Isa still had no idea who the man was, and she was fine with keeping it that way.
Beaming a smile, she said, “Welcome to the Pussy Lounge. What would you men like?”
His blue eyes darkened. His expression was more perturbed than surprised. “I believe you mean Pussy Cat Lounge.”
She tried to think back to what she’d said. Isa had been so busy trying not to make eye contact with him she was drawing a blank. Men! They hear what they want to. While tapping her pen against her order pad, she said flatly, “I believe that’s what I said.” Shoot. Even if he was wrong, why was she arguing with a customer? Her night had been going so darn good until he showed up.
“Excuse me?” he asked, arching a brow.
She’d learned a lot from listening to the Bowens deal with difficult customers. Getting the last word wasn’t always the best way. “I stand corrected. Thank you, sir.” Isa hoped the touch of sarcasm didn’t sound as bad as it did in her head. Sweet was more than she could manage, but polite would need to suffice. “Have you decided what you’d like to drink?”
She didn’t need to turn toward him to know his eyes were on her. Isa refused to acknowledge it, but when she peeked, she noticed he wasn’t roaming all over her as some customers had. Instead, he seemed focused on her face.
“You’re new here.”
It sounded like a statement rather than a question. Did he frequent the lounge so often he could tell one waitress from the other? All their makeup was the same, and she wasn’t the only dark-haired woman. She barely could tell one waitress from another and on a few occasions needed to look at their name tag. Isa was the only waitress without a tag to identify her. It was understandable being a last minute hire. Let it be that. She swallowed hard. He could ask all the questions he wanted, but there was no way she was getting personal in any form. Maybe a fictitious name. “Not my usual shift. So how about that drink order?”
The man next to him said, “A cold tall boy.”
“You got it.” She wrote down his beer choice then looked back to Mr. Grumpypants. Forcing a smile so wide it almost hurt, she asked, “And for you, sir?” He knew darn well she was addressing him, yet he said nothing. The longer he stared at her, the more uncomfortable she became. He didn’t scare her, but he was . . . unreadable, and that was intimidating. “If you’d like a few minutes, I can come back.”
As she turned, he finally spoke up. “Make it two.”
Barely looking over her shoulder in their direction, she replied, “I’ll be right back with your drinks.” Unfortunately.
As she stood at the bar waiting for their drinks, Isa pondered why he was so fixated on her. Nothing about her stood out from what she could tell. She’d made darn sure to do her makeup accurately. This pussycat looks just like the others.
Through all her frustration, her eyes widened as though a light had been turned on. He was the guy from yesterday. Only one thing had changed, her appearance. There was one thing she hadn’t taken into consideration. My voice. At times like this, she hated her accent. If she concentrated hard, she could fake it, so it wasn’t so noticeable, but it was always there. Was it too late to do so now? Was the damage already done? Had he figured out she was the same woman from yesterday?
She knew when she was upset or angry her accent became thicker. Yesterday certainly was one of those occasions. Coming pretty close a few minutes ago too. She couldn’t let him get to her. By the looks of him—tall, dark, and handsome and probably rich as well—he wasn’t interested in anything more than giving her a difficult time.
She pondered one question. Why do I care? She wasn’t out to impress him or anyone else. If he had any smartass remark about what she did for a living that was his problem, not hers. She was earning an honest wage.
She could feel the anger building. You need to stop. He is not one of them. At least she hoped he wasn’t. When she was young, she’d seen what men of money did. Anything they wanted, no questions asked. It was ugly, but things hadn’t changed. If she thought for a moment they had, all she needed to do was look around where she worked. People were willing to risk it all for a chance to be rich. Never once looking at what they were losing in the process.
“If you can’t flirt, at least try to look happy. Smile,” Janet, another waitress, said as she handed the bartender her order.
“I’ll get the hang of it.” Doesn’t mean I’ll ever like it, but I can do it.
“I hope so, or you’ll get the ax.”
She didn’t need Janet to tell her that. Employers expected you to do your job and do it well. No matter who you were waiting on.
Isa took the two beers, placed them on the tray, and headed back to the table. Her hands trembled slightly as she tried balancing the tray in one hand. Steadying it with the other, she made her way through the tables. Janet was right. Isa needed to practice so this would become second nature. For now, she was lucky a drink made it to the customer in one piece.
The glasses were filled to the brim, as customers like it. What they didn’t enjoy was seeing some of it spill over the rim and end up on the table as she placed them down. “Sorry about that. I’m . . . I’m new and a bit nervous.” She hoped they’d have pity on her. She was wrong.
“You’re telling me you’re not an experienced waitress?” he snarled as he grabbed a napkin to soak up the beer, preventing it from spilling on his lap.
The second man said, “Damn, Drake. It’s only a drink. Give her a break.”
So, his name’s Drake. Suits him. It screams arrogant.
Drake shot the guy a warning look. “Alex, no one tells me how to run my business. If you think your last name changes things, you’re mistaken.”
Don’t eavesdrop. It’s rude. Clean up and walk away. She should be thrilled Drake’s focus was off her. The other man, Alex, didn’t seem troubled in the least by Drake’s tone. He even lifted his glass while she wiped up the spill. At least one of them is a gentleman. She didn’t miss the gold band around his finger as he held his glass either.
“Just because I’m a Henderson doesn’t mean I’m an ass.”
Oh God.
Henderson.
She started to shake desperately, trying to get it together. This is America. There were millions of Hendersons in America, she was sure. Regardless, that name still shook her to the core.
The Henderson she’d once known hadn’t been the one to take her innocence, but he was just as guilty. If he’d never existed, her people wouldn’t have lived in fear. Never been sold into human trafficking. She remembered seeing him from a distance once. His eyes were dark and as cold as stone. Looking up from the table, she snuck a peek at Alex’s. They were filled with life, hope, and maybe even happiness.
I had all of that once. So very long ago.
Once again she was thinking of home. Why was home tormenting her? It was one thing for it to be in her dreams, but during the day, she didn’t ever think of that place.
“What the heck is wrong with you?” Drake snapped.
The small spill now was an entire twenty-ounce beer that had toppled over onto Drake with a small amount on Alex.
“I’m so sorry. I . . . I’m”
“Fired!” Drake said.
With mouth wide open in a panic, she hoped that wasn’t going to be the case. An irate customer on day number two increased the odds of not seeing a third. She couldn’t lose this job. Not until she found another. Think. What would the Bowens do? “I can get you another, no charge. And I will pay for your suit to be cleaned.” Groveling for a job was embarrassing, but it was more than that. She represented the company, and it was
time to act like it. “It was—”
“Only beer,” Alex interjected as he wiped off his pants.
Drake got up and said, “I suggest you either get some training or another job.” Then he walked out of the lounge.
She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until her lungs started to hurt. Only when the doors actually closed behind Drake did she exhale.
Alex stayed sitting there. “Don’t stress over it. He had a bad day.”
“I’m sure I didn’t make it any better,” Isa said softly, feeling defeated. Drake was right on one thing, she didn’t belong here. At least not doing this job. Yesterday no one wore the contents, but she dropped more than one glass, and she had to pay for them out of her tips. Today it’s Drake’s dry cleaning bill. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to give you money to pass along.”
“For what?” Alex asked.
“His . . . suit has been soiled. I said I would pay for it.”
Alex laughed. “You’re serious aren’t you?”
“Of course.” It probably meant working the night for nothing, but it was the right thing to do.
Alex arched a brow. “Why don’t you sit down for a minute?”
Isa snickered. “I’ll be fired for sure then.” She looked around and saw the bartender looking in her direction. Had he noticed what happened? How couldn’t he? Drake hadn’t kept his voice down.
Alex laughed, saying, “I’m a paying customer. If your boss comes by, I’ll remind him of that.”
Isa didn’t know what to do. She’d already offended Drake, and for all she knew, he was off making a call to her manager now. What do I have to lose? Slipping into the vacant seat across from Alex, Isa asked, “What do you want to talk about?” I see your wedding ring.
He looked at her, differently from how Drake did, but equally puzzled.
What was it about these two? It wasn’t like she had two heads or something. “Is there something wrong?” she asked.
“Your accent. It’s different.”
Back to that again. Isa didn’t want to mention her country. Most people hadn’t heard of it, but those who had didn’t have a good opinion of the natives. They only see the bad side.
“Thank you.”
Alex arched a brow. “Where are you from?”
She wished his question was casual, but something said there was more to it. “A small island.” She got up. “My boss is calling. I have to get back to work. It was nice meeting you. Have a good night.” She didn’t wait for his response and quickly made her exit.
Isa had thought he’d attempt to speak to her again, but he didn’t. Instead, he sat back sipping his beer. Every once in a while she’d look his way. Was he intentionally dragging it out? Had he hoped she’d stop by and ask if he needed another? Thankfully it was her break, so she stopped Janet on her way by. “Do you think you could cover my tables for fifteen? You can even keep the tips.”
Janet grinned. “You sure have a lot to learn. But heck, I don’t have a problem taking the money. Take as long as you want.”
As Isa walked around the bar and was about to go into the back, she noticed the woman from the elevator. What was she doing here? The woman looked around the lounge and headed toward Alex’s table. Janet was already on the move before Isa could say she’d changed her mind. She waited to see how the two would interact. Had she shown up to meet Drake only to find him gone? That’s a negative. The woman leaned over and kissed Alex warmly.
Alex pulled her down onto his lap, and the woman’s eyes lit up. There was no doubt that she was his wife. Janet spoke to them briefly then headed back to the bar. Isa watched by the doorway and noticed Janet wave to her.
Isa walked over and said, “I thought you were going to cover for me.”
“I was. The guy said he’d wait for you to return.”
“What? They don’t want any drinks?” Isa asked.
“Not from me. Guess whatever you do . . . you’re doing it right.”
I guess so. Isa didn’t need to pretend to smile this time. As she approached the table, she actually was thrilled they wanted her as their waitress. “Sorry it took me so long. Do you know what you’ll be having?” Was it her imagination, or did the woman shoot Alex a questioning look?
“I’ll have another beer, and my wife, peach sangria.”
“You got it. I’ll be right back.” As she walked away, she could hear mumbling but couldn’t make out the words. Since the woman’s expression wasn’t harsh, Isa wasn’t overly concerned. Grabbing both drinks, she returned to the table with a newly acquired confidence.
Placing both drinks on the table without spilling a drop she asked, “Is there anything else I can get you?” The woman smiled at Isa but shook her head.
Alex replied, “We’re all set.”
Isa gave them their privacy as they finished their drinks. She could tell they were having a serious conversation, one that stopped whenever anyone came by. Noticing their glasses were empty, she was about to approach them to see if they wanted another. Instead, she watched Alex get up, pull money out of his wallet, and leave it on the table. Then he offered his wife his hand and escorted her out of the lounge. Before the doors shut, his wife turned back one last time. She noticed Isa watching them and gave Isa a brief nod. She stood still until they were out of sight.
Isa wanted to clear off the table before more customers came in. It wasn’t very busy tonight, and she really wanted someone to sit at her table. As she cleared it, she picked up the bills Alex had left to pay his tab. She had to sit down. His tab was less than thirty dollars, but she had five one-hundred-dollar bills in her possession. She wanted to dash from the lounge and try to find the couple. This much money had to be a mistake. It was an insane amount for a tip.
Janet strolled over and said, “Guess you got lucky tonight. He must be a high roller to drop that much cash.”
Isa wasn’t the best judge of character, but he didn’t seem like a gambler. And it sure the heck wasn’t my customer service. Grabbing the dirty glasses, she headed to dispose of them behind the bar. She wished she could’ve heard what the couple had been discussing. All she knew was it was about her. If she laid eyes on them again, she might not ask what was said, but she would thank them for their kindness. Why were they so kind to me? That’s what baffles me. Why?
* * *
“What are you talking about?” Drake asked. He thought Alex called for a meeting to discuss the contract, not some waitress.
“I just want her name.”
“I don’t know every single person who works for me. If you want to know, go back and ask her. If you’re looking at hiring her for the resort casino in Tabiq, I suggest going with someone who knows what the hell they’re doing.” Drake had considered stopping at Scott’s office yesterday after he left the Pussy Cat Lounge, but he had more important things to attend to than discussing a clumsy waitress. He hated to admit that she left an impression. Not a good one. At least that’s what he continued to tell himself. He’d met a lot of incompetent people and forgotten them immediately. Putting her in that category was extreme. The manager of the lounge was responsible for ensuring his staff was up to par. If anyone needed to be spoken to it was him.
“She might be a better fit than you think. There’s something—”
“Special about her?” Drake asked.
Alex shot him a look. “I was going to say different. She wasn’t a pushover, or better yet a kiss ass. I mean she didn’t seem afraid of you at all. We need people like that in Tabiq. She might be great to run a department, with the right training.”
Drake laughed. “You think for one minute I’m going to take an inexperienced waitress and put her in charge of anything or anyone? It’s pretty fucking obvious you didn’t get your father’s business sense.”
Alex’s eyes darkened, and he growled, “You should be thankful I didn’t, or you could be living in a cardboard box for that statement.”
Drake hadn’t ever met James Henderson, but eve
n after his death, many still feared the Henderson name. A person would have been a fool to do business with him. He’d heard the stories of those who did. James always came out on top and the others ended penniless.
“If I really thought you had, you wouldn’t be sitting in my office now.” Drake was a shrewd businessman himself, and he’d compiled his own research on the Henderson family. “That brings me back to my original questions. Why the hell are you still here? I thought your wife wanted to head home?”
“She did. Ziva isn’t leaving until we come to some agreement regarding that waitress.”
Great. Now his wife has opinions on how to run my business. What the fuck! “It’s not up for discussion.”
“You didn’t seem thrilled with her last night, why not cut her free? Let me hire her.”
Drake found that puzzling. Alex was here on his wife’s behalf. “What did you do, go back to your room last night and talk about this woman until your wife wanted her out?”
Alex chuckled. “I can see why you’re single. To answer your question, Ziva joined me last night after you so abruptly left. Ziva has her reasons for wanting to hire this woman. I don’t need to know them.”
“Why not?” Because she runs your shit!
“Simple. I trust her. Ziva has a damn good head on her shoulders. If she believes this woman is more than she appears to be, I’m willing to give her a shot,” Alex said firmly.
He could appreciate Alex defending his wife. Alex wouldn’t be much of a man if he didn’t. But asking Drake to blindly trust was asking too much.
“You really want me to fire her for no good reason?”
Alex nodded. “And we’ll hire her.”
“That’s pretty fucked up even for me. I tell you what I am willing to do.” Picking up the phone, he typed in Scott’s extension.
“Good afternoon, sir. What can I do for you?” Scott asked when he answered.
“I’m sending a colleague of mine down to talk to you. He’s interested in a waitress. I’d like you to cooperate and give him the information he asks for.”
He heard Scott clear his throat which usually meant Scott was about to question Drake’s instructions. “When you say interested, what exactly does that mean?”
Seven Guilty Pleasures Page 3