Page 3 of Something Reckless
ALBA
W ith a sigh that expels eight hours of being on my feet, running back and forth to the kitchen, I hang up my frilly white apron on one of the hooks in the back of the restaurant.
Wait—now that I think about it, it’s been closer to ten hours since I’ve been at work. Because I came in early to cover for one of the new waitresses who called out sick.
I try to cheer up, reminding myself that I’m fortunate to be working at the most popular restaurant in town.
And two extra hours means extra tips. It could be a whole lot worse.
I could still be waitressing at the old dive bar across from the firehouse, feeling lucky to get a handful of coins tossed into my tip jar from the local drunks.
“Great work today, Alba.” Out of nowhere, my boss appears behind me and makes me jump.
“Oh, um, thank you, Mr. Drummond.” I urge a polite smile across my face and try to sound pleasant. I turn toward my narrow cubby and act busy, hanging my fairy wings on the hook together with my apron.
“I’ve been watching you out there and you look good.” Uh, ew ? He steps closer, his eyes traveling up and down my legs. “I have to say though, if you want to make the really good tips, that skirt of yours needs to be a teeny bit shorter.”
I shut my eyes to steel myself for this conversation. I don’t even have to be looking at him to know he’s probably still ogling my bare legs.
Nothing outside of the norm here. Just my pervy boss being pervy as usual.
Drummond is such a weirdo. But I put up with it, because well, paycheck .
He makes all of us servers here at Le Trésor des Fées wear this skimpy little outfit. It looks more like a Tinkerbell costume from some creeper’s wet dream than a uniform that should be worn inside a classy business establishment.Clearly, it’s a personal kink of his.
I shudder to imagine what’s on this guy’s browser history.But as I said, paycheck.
Finally turning around to face him, my forced smile grows wider. “Oh, that’s all right, Mr. Drummond. I’m very ‘satisfied’ with my tips and with the length of my skirt.”
His lips press into a line. Seems like he’s not ‘satisfied’ with my response.
Tough.
Before he can reprimand me, I grab my purse and give a little wave. “Gotta run!”
Even though my boss is mostly harmless, I rush out the employee exit. And as soon as I’m able to put some distance between myself and Mr. Drummond’s creepy stare, it’s easier to remind myself that I need this job. Just as much as I need my other two jobs.
The sad truth is, I wouldn’t be able to keep a roof over Jagger’s head if I didn’t work around the clock.
I glance down at what I’m wearing. Shit—with Drummond breathing down my neck, I didn’t even get to change out of my uniform. Once I’m in the quiet of my crappy car, I find myself needing a minute to regroup.
I close my eyes and do some deep breathing. Paycheck. Paycheck. Paycheck. Okay, that’s my meditation for the day.
I pull out of the restaurant’s back parking lot and head toward Marigold Peak. Whenever I need to recharge, I like to get behind the wheel and cruise up the hill to the rich side of town.
That’s where all the big houses are, the ones with the fancy front doors and the in-ground pools in the backyards and rose bushes that scale entire facades.
The field of vibrant marigolds clinging to the cliff that overlooks downtown.
I like to roll slowly through the neighborhood and daydream about what my life could have been like.
If only things had worked out differently…
As I drive, I place a call to my mother. It takes her a moment to answer, and it’s hard to mask the exhaustion in my voice when I greet her. “Hey, Mom. How are you doing? And how’s the most adorable eight-year-old in town?” I smile to myself at the thought of Jagger.
Even though it kills me to be away at work so much, I know he’s in great hands with his grandmother.
“He’s good. Just at the playground for a bit before coming home for dinner.” My mom pauses. “Are you okay? You sound…funny.”
I push down any lingering feelings of frustration and disappointment about my lousy job and my pervy boss.
“Of course, of course,” I say. “I’m okay. Can you tell Jag I’ll be home in a bit?”
As much as I’d like to head straight there, I don’t ever like to drag my work baggage home with me.
After everything that little boy has been through, I feel like I owe it to him to walk through the front door with a warm smile and a clear head everyday.
Driving through the fancy neighborhoods with the windows down is usually the quickest way to get me there.
I have to be strong. My family counts on me. We need the money, and I’m grateful to be able to provide for them.
At the top of the hill, I approach the nicest of the homes. Just last week, there was a For Rent sign out front, sitting outside the ornate wrought-iron gate.
I’m sure of it, because after spotting the sign, I looked up how much it cost and estimated how many jobs it would take me to be able to afford a monthly rent payment like that one.
These are the things I do for fun nowadays.
But now, the sign is nowhere to be seen. That means the property must have been rented. Although I can’t think of many people in Fairy Bush who could afford a place like this.
I do some rough math in my head, calculating the commission the realtor must have earned in this deal. A commission like that would cover all of my bills for half the year. Just with this one single listing.
I sigh, imagining the possibilities.But there’s no point in obsessing over what could have been. I’ve just got to accept the cards I’ve been dealt and keep moving forward each day.
Still, I find myself pulling my car to the curb as I recall the details I read in the listing.
Three stories peaking above an ornate concrete fence.
Five bedrooms, six bathrooms. Roof, decking and windows all replaced within the last couple years.
Hardwood floors, all original and restored.
A kitchen to drool over. Such a beautiful house.
It seems like a lifetime ago when I thought I’d be selling gorgeous properties like this one. Or at least doing anything other than working for an asshole who’d rather view me as a sexed-up pet instead of a human being.
Lately, I’ve been haunted by the fact that I used to have so many dreams. But none of them came true.
Which is totally fine. I swear.
To be fair, most of those dreams changed when Jagger was born anyway. My only goal in life now is to raise that precious little boy, help my mom heal from the shitstorm she’s been through in recent years, and do it all without putting myself further into debt.
I get so lost in my thoughts that I don’t even realize that I’ve climbed out of my car. Then I’m strolling toward the big fancy house, just to get a closer look.
I inch across the sidewalk, stepping closer to the wall that surrounds the property. It’s not one of those gargantuan ten-foot fences or anything, but it’s almost as tall as me. With an unladylike grunt, I hoist myself up to peek over the wall.
Okay, this is a little crazy. But I really enjoy checking out nice homes and daydreaming about what life could have been. Really, it’s no different than window-shopping at the expensive stores I can’t afford.
Still, I’m sure that if anyone saw me right now, they’d think I was a lunatic. Or a strangely-dressed peeping tom.But the houses out here are nicely spread out, and there’s no one in sight. Whoever is renting the place probably hasn’t even moved in yet.
I hold myself on the top of the wall, gazing adoringly at the house. Wow—it’s even more beautiful the closer you get.
This is the first time I’ve ever seen it after sunset, all lit up by the fancy lights set up around the property .
I frown when I notice a car in the driveway that I didn’t see before. A really cute car.
I lean even further over the wall, trying to get a better look at the car’s license plate. If I could just see what state it’s from, maybe I could—
Movement catches my eye. I glance over toward the sliding doors at the far end of the ground floor. My breath catches when I see a tall, muscular, shirtless man staring at me with what looks to be a startled expression. It’s hard to tell from way over here.
Before I can decide whether to flee or wave, I lose my balance and suddenly spill over the wall—face down, ass up—in my awful fairy outfit.
I scream.