ENEMIES

by Tijan

If Cammie was the sweetheart of the Quail, Moore was the opposite. Catty. Bitchy. Jealous. She was all of those things, and I’d been able to mostly avoid her, but I knew that time was coming to an end. I heard she had a mission to get into Dent’s pants, and it was only a matter of time before she figured out how I knew them. So far she just thought one of them had a crush on me, that was the reason they kept coming when I was on shift.

  “Okay, girls.” Jer shut the door, going around to the driver’s side. “Grab your uniforms. We gotta go. Boss wants us in the boxes before the ticketholders get there.”

  The game was in an hour.

  We needed to curtail it out of there, but after changing in the back, Cammie grabbed me. “Sit.” She went to work on me then.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Sex brings more tips. If you and I both look sexy, that means more money.”

  She was loosening my shirt. Nothing was showing, but there was a good swell of cleavage showing. She stepped back, studying me, frowning. Her hands went to my hair and she was redoing the ponytail I’d put it in for the night. Going around me, I was slightly impressed at how quick she worked. Not a lot of girls were braid-savvy, but she had put my blue hair in a loose, reverse French braid. It was meant to look sexily rumpled, and when I saw my reflection in the mirror, I almost whistled to myself.

  “Damn. You could do hair for a living.”

  She grinned, sitting next to me and tugging on a different pair of shoes. “I’ve got six little sisters and a single mom who works three jobs. Hair duty was like an assembly line in the mornings before school.” She finished, standing up and smoothing out her skirt. “Ready to go and make some moolah?”

  God, was I.

  Going over, Jer pulled up to the stadium, and we were waved in to go toward the back employee parking area. A bunch of buses were back there, too. Hopping out, Jer told us, “Hold up.” He opened the back door. “I need help carrying all this inside.”

  It took six different trips, maneuvering through all the people, even going through the back way and I was sweating up a storm. So was Cammie. She flashed me a smile once we were done, wiping some sweat from her forehead. “There’s a bathroom up there we can use to clean up a bit.”

  I nodded. Sounded good to me.

  “Okay.” Jer was coming back, holding out two thick, black packets. He handed one to each of us. “Cammie will tell you the pricing, but you guys are your own cash registers up there.”

  She took hers, frowning. “You’re not the bartender up there?”

  He shook his head. “Nah. I’m running the beer down here tonight. Another guy’s up there, but you’ll do fine.”

  Cammie’s frown was telling me otherwise.

  Jer kept on, “Close out after the game or when the box clears out. Joe said that’s up to you, and come down to the beer. I’ll give you a ride back. We’ll be closed before you guys anyway, so I’ll probably head up to help you guys close out, or I’ll be waiting in the van. Check your phones. I’ll send word after the game. Joe wants you both back at the Quail for the rush tonight. It’ll be nuts.”

  Cammie nodded, and I didn’t tell her until we were going up a back stairway, “I didn’t know it was even Homecoming this weekend.” I felt stupid about it. I should’ve known that much.

  She laughed, getting to the third floor and opening the door. She held it for me. “I’m not surprised, but that’s what I like about you. Some of the guys call you Blue Daze, did you know that?”

  She was walking down the hallway, so I was just going with her. “Blue Daze?”

  “Yeah, cause you’re always in a daze. You’re like half here, half not here.”

  It’d been a week of working at the Quail. Between classes and work, my days were full this past week. So I got it, but she didn’t know that I preferred it that way. I didn’t want to admit it, but it hurt not seeing Stone, and he’d been my self-medicating way to get through everything else. So yeah, the last week, I’d taken on this zombie-way of lifestyle. I got up. Went to classes. Ate lunch. Studied if I had free time before work, then went to work. I studied any free time I had, but Joe had told me firmly that I needed one full day off from working. That’d be on Sundays, so I already had plans to study the entire day.

  Being called Blue Daze, I wasn’t too shocked by it. I think I preferred it. They hadn’t called me Dusty since the first night. It’d been Blue ever since.

  “This is us.” She nodded to a door.

  A bunch of security people were standing outside. Recognizing our uniforms, the guy opened the door for us, a radio in his other hand.

  The entire room was busy, but not with the ticketholders yet. Staff was rushing around, cleaning, carrying food to the back kitchenette area and putting out table coverings. A guy was behind the bar and waved us over. “You girls are the servers?”

  Cammie took lead, speaking for me, “We are. How many will be in here?”

  “It’ll be fucking packed.” He was eyeing both of us, slightly concerned. “You both done boxes before?”

  Cammie frowned back. “We load up the trays and walk ’em around. We’re not in charge of getting the food, right?”

  “Yeah. No, you’re not.” He motioned to the kitchenette area. It was being turned into a buffet. “You guys have to watch the food. When a dish gets half empty, let me know. I’ll call down for more to be brought up. Mixed drink orders go through me, too. As for shots or beer,” he motioned to the fridge behind him, under the counter, and the tap. “You guys can pour that stuff yourself. You know pricing?”

  “Eight, ten, twelve for the beers.” Cammie was half-telling me at the same time. “Bottles are…”

  “Twelve.”

  She whistled. “Homecoming inflation rate?”

  He grinned. “Pretty much. Shots are five even.”

  “Five?”

  He shrugged. “They’re getting the cheap shit here, but they don’t need to know it. Oh, and we’re only offering these types of shots. Nothing else. We’re a box suite, not a fully functioning bar.” He slid over a piece of paper, and taking it, I saw it was a cheat sheet for what we offered and the prices.

  I tucked mine into my pocket.

  “No.” He reached behind, grabbing some black aprons to tie around our waist. “Use these.”

  They were short, but they would blend in with the skirts. I tied mine on, put the cheat sheet in there, the money on the inside pocket, along with a small pad of paper and a couple of pens. My phone went in the other pocket.

  “We good to go?”

  Cammie glanced to me. I nodded, and she spoke for both of us. “Load up the first trays. We’re doing champagne?”

  “Yep.” He reached around, then swung right back. His hand extended. “I’m Ben, by the way.”

  Cammie laughed, shaking his hand. “I’m Cammie and this is Blue.” She gestured to me.

  He laughed, shaking my hand, too. “That’ll be easy to remember.” He went back to filling the first glasses when he said, “Oh. These are high rollers, so stay extremely professional. No flirting. Nothing like that. The team’s new GM asked for these guys to come as a personal favor to the team.”

  Cammie nodded. “Who is it?”

  He was back to filling the glasses when he said, almost casually, “The local Kings. Some of their star players and family. And their coach.”

  Cammie’s eyes whipped to mine, but I’d heard. Every. Word.

  My life flashed in front of my eyes because this news, well, consider it like a bomb dropped and it just exploded at my feet.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “He won’t recognize you.”

  Cammie must’ve known more than I realized, because as soon as Ben dropped that revelation, she pulled me into the bathroom. She immediately began changing my hair all over again, and she was giving me her version of a pep talk. “Your hair is totally different.” She reached into her bra and pulled out a contact case. “Here. We’ll change your eyes, too.”

  She was
twisting it off, and two green contacts were being pulled out. “Ever had contacts before?”

  “What?” I grabbed her wrist. “No. Stop.”

  “They’re not prescription. You’ll be totally fine, just maybe not look him in the eyes when he’s here. Yeah?” She shoved the case at me, then reached back into her bra and pulled out a makeup case. “I can contour your face so you’re barely recognizable.”

  “No. It’s not him.”

  She was readying, opening her makeup, tilting my head up.

  “No. Stop.” I grabbed her wrist and stepped back. “I didn’t change my hair because of him. I changed my hair because of everyone else. Those people in the box, if they recognize me it’s not the end of the world. It’s the guys in the bar, back at the Quail. They’re the ones who hassle me.”

  “Oh.” Pity formed in her eyes, and I turned away.

  I didn’t want that. I never wanted that look.

  But stepping back to the mirror, I did wash up a little bit. Carrying everything inside had made me sweat, so after, I felt more refreshed. Cammie hadn’t moved, just watched me. I went to the door, saying, “I’ll see you out there.”

  She didn’t respond or nod, but I opened the door and stepped out.

  Ben was waving me over, his eyes a little frantic. He pointed to his watch. “They’re coming up soon. Any minute.”

  Okay.

  I could do this.

  Picking up the tray, I went to wait at the door and smoothed a hand down my front, just to help ease my anxiety, but I was good.

  This was a normal day at work.

  I was still telling myself that as Cammie came out of the bathroom. She picked up her tray, standing beside me. And we heard people coming down the hallway. They were nearing, getting closer. Louder. Louder. Even louder. They were right outside the door.

  It was opening.

  I could do this.

  They walked in.

  It was the Kings’ coaching staff first. I recognized them.

  A player, Colby. He picked up a champagne glass, said thank you, ran his gaze over Cammie, and moved inside. He hadn’t recognized me.

  A few more players, some family members. Or I was guessing. A wife. Girlfriend. Colby didn’t have a date. That was interesting. I couldn’t remember if he was married or not, but then Cortez came in, the Kings’ halfback. Jake was behind him, his arm around a woman. Both picked up champagne glasses, said thank you, and moved on.

  No one recognized me.

  I slipped behind Cammie, going to the bar. Ben was ahead of me. He had a tray waiting for me, so I picked it up and returned in line.

  Head up. Eyes forward. A nice and polite smile on my face. Professional. We were here representing the Quail, but we were also here for the tips.

  The door closed, and I kept waiting.

  My stomach was in knots.

  I was expecting him to come in any second.

  Still longer. We waited.

  Cammie was done, so she murmured, “I’m going to start the walk-throughs.”

  I nodded. I had three glasses on my tray. “Should I wait?”

  She opened her mouth.

  The door opened.

  But it wasn’t who I’d been worried about.

  It was worse.

  My eyes met hers first, and the polite greeting I uttered, saying, “Welcome!” died in my throat. I knew this woman, had known her all my life. She’d seen me when I laughed, when I bled, when I cried, and she’d been the reason for some of those moments.

  Barbara Reeves stepped through the door. She was still slender, but always had been. Her hair was cut short, still a dirty blonde, and she had it styled so it glistened and had good volume. She was dressed how rich people dressed. A white sweater that I knew without touching it, would be the softest material I’d ever touched. She was wearing tan khaki capris and sandals that were woven up her legs. For middle-aged, she was very chic and sophisticated, and I knew I never would be able to pull an outfit like that off, regardless of my age. She was very earthy and woodsy and natural, but I knew she probably spent a fortune to look like that.

  Crystal earrings. A diamond bracelet on her wrist.

  She was still just as beautiful as ever.

  And she picked up a champagne glass, a frosted smile on her face, but she winced as she took in my hair. “Thank you, dear.” She moved right along, not recognizing me just like everyone else.

  Ben had moved out from the bar just then. He handed Cammie a full tray of champagne and switched over my last glass, then gave me a tray of appetizers instead.

  I held them up, seeing that they looked like a gourmet version of pigs-in-a-blanket.

  Barbara had seen and she paused, coming back a few steps. Her eyes were trained on the appetizers, and I knew her. I knew she was hungry, knew she wanted them, but knew she was right now battling herself in her head because she so rarely ate.

  So I smiled, my hold steady, and I said clearly, “I mean, it’s not lasagna, but it’s still a little treat.”

  Her eyes lifted to mine, and she narrowed them, but any confusion she might’ve had left because in the next breath, Charles Reeves stepped in behind her. “Let’s go, honey. Ooh. Those look delicious.” He swooped in, grabbed a champagne, then grabbed two appetizers. “Damn good.”

  He smiled at me, at Cammie, and at Ben who had paused at my statement.

  I was forgotten, and Barbara moved forward, her smile turning plastic once more. It was the type of smile she reserved for us, for the ‘less thans.’ I was the help and I was beneath her, but I’d always been beneath her.

  God.

  I sucked in a shuddering breath.

  Gail.

  My dad.

  My mom.

  They were gone, but this woman, this man, they were still here. I wished I had said more, but the moment was gone. She would recognize me if I drew attention to myself.

  My tray was starting to tremble.

  I was going to lose it. I felt it coming at me like an out-of-control freight train.

  The food was going to fall to the ground, and everyone would look, and everyone would say ‘how disgraceful.’ And I’d be fired, or at the very least, they’d look down on me even more.

  “I got it.” Cammie’s voice was a soothing whisper right next to me, and she took the tray. As soon as her second hand had ahold of it, I stepped back and drew in a rasping breath. Her smile upped in wattage, and she took over.

  I needed a minute, just a minute.

  “Blue,” Ben hissed at me from the bar.

  I held up a finger, knowing it wasn’t steady, and I started to move behind Cammie.

  Stone’s dad had been talking to the head coach. As soon as both men cleared the door, Stone was there.

  He was there.

  I halted, freezing in place, and he rolled right in.

  Not a look my way.

  He saw Cammie, dipped his head in a greeting, and went right past her, too.

  Her smile was frozen, and she looked to me once he was past us. Her eyes were almost bulging. And mine, I couldn’t look away from him.

  He looked so fucking good.

  I never took a minute. I couldn’t get myself to leave the room.

  Through the game, a part of me wanted Stone to recognize me.

  I wanted him to pull me aside, touch me, hold me, say the nice and comforting words I knew he would, but the other part of me knew that couldn’t happen.

  My head was messed up. There was no clear thinking with me, and that was translating to my heart. I used to hate the guy, for God’s sake. What? A few kind acts, a few amazing nights, a few times he’d made my body bend and shudder and quake from exquisite agony, and that was enough to make me fall for him?

  I didn’t think so.

  A few weeks couldn’t and wouldn’t erase the damage from all the years before.

  Or, at least, that’s what I was telling myself the one time I stepped forward to take Stone’s emptied glass. He didn’t look up, no
t once. None of them did.

  To their credit, I kept my head down, and I knew over the last four weeks, I’d lost another ten pounds. It wasn’t intentional. It was just grief. A different form of grief over the loss of Stone, but grief, nonetheless. My housemates kept the house stocked with food, and every now and then, when the feeling hit me and if I had time, I’d go and whip up a feast for them. The guys especially brought over extra ingredients for me, and if they saw me heading to the basement empty-handed, they’d signal. A full plate would be put in my hands. I used to fight it, but once Nacho leaned in and said gruffly, “Let us care. Okay?” That shut me up and I couldn’t deny that I now had a soft spot for Nacho. I had a soft spot for all of them, even Mia and Lisa. They were my people. My tribe. But here, here I was out of my element surrounded by these people and their families.

  There were no breaks to watch the game, but I did keep an eye on the scoreboard.

  When Wyatt scored, I stepped into the hallway to send a congratulations text. I did the same thing for all the guys if they did a play or helped in a big play. It was my way of letting them know I supported them back. My people. My tribe.

  The game was winding down. Texas C&B was up thirty-one to ten and the box was emptying out, as well. No one got too loud. Most everyone watched the game, cheered them on, and returned to conversation in between. A few of the coaches headed out first. The families went after them, especially the two who brought a couple younger children in with them.

  Jake went out with his date. His arm was fully resting around her shoulders.

  Cortez was next. He hadn’t walked in with anyone, but he spent most of the game either talking to Stone or spending time at a table of women. He walked out with one of them now, holding her hand. Charles and Barb were after them. Stone was right after them. His mom was turning around, and I overheard them making plans to have dinner later.

  It didn’t hurt.

  I was trying to tell myself that.

  What was I expecting? For them to talk about me? Mention me since they were at the same school I attended? But nothing. And that wasn’t realistic. Stone helped because he said he cared, but it was initially because of my mom, because he hadn’t known what his parents did to mine, and then it was about righting some wrongs. So, no, I shouldn’t have expected them to talk about me. Why would they? Bringing up my past only muddied their future.