Page 32 of Don't Bet On It
“What?” Hoffs turned to me distractedly, saw I was staring at his empty glass, then nodded. “Yes. Extra olives.”
I was stiff when I walked away from the table, anger coursing through me as I tried to tamp down the annoyance threatening to spurt out of me like lava. Kyla followed me.
“You need to do better with the customers,” she said as I put in the order at the bar. She kept her voice low and a smile on her face, but ice was in her eyes. “You’re not even putting in any effort.”
Was she kidding me? It had taken real effort not to lose my mind and throw myself on Hoffs long enough to choke the life out of him. “What would you like me to do?” I asked in my blandest voice. “Should I agree with him that women are better off barefoot and pregnant?”
“That’s not what he said.”
“That’s essentially what he said.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter what he said.” Kyla’s voice ratcheted up a notch. “This lounge is a fantasy. Do you not understand that? The people who come here expect us to tailor the fantasy to them.”
“I’m not going to sit here and pretend I think men are smarter than women.”
“You’re going to do what our guests want.” Kyla was firm. “Your attitude needs to be up and your mouth needs to be shut unless you’re giving the guests exactly what they want. How do you not understand that?”
I wanted to shake her. Hard. “I understand it.” I smiled at the bartender as he placed the martini in front of me. “I wasn’t picking a fight with him.”
“You pick a fight with everybody.” Kyla vehemently shook her head. “You need to tell your little friend to get it together, too, while we’re at it.”
It took me a moment to realize she was talking about Ronan. “He’s not my friend” was my automatic reply.
“He’d better not be more than that,” Kyla warned. “Fraternization on the job is not allowed. If I catch you fraternizing, I don’t care who your best friend is, you’ll be out of here.”
Was that her plan? She was desperate to get me booted. I wouldn’t put it past her to set me up. If she thought that bringing Ronan into the high rollers lounge would make me lose my head—and, thusly, my panties—she had another think coming.
“We’re not fraternizing,” I assured her.
“Make sure you don’t.” The quirk of Kyla’s lips told me she didn’t believe anything I said. “Now, take that drink over there and give our clients the fantasy they expect.”
I was tempted to quit on the spot. No paycheck—or exorbitant tip amount—was worth this. Instead, I nodded and slid away from her.
I couldn’t disappoint Zach. Olivia might understand. Or she might fire Kyla herself for messing with me. I didn’t want that, despite Kyla’s attitude. I understood why she didn’t like me. She felt I’d stolen from her sister. Eventually, if everything went as planned, she would get over it.
No matter what, I couldn’t hurt Zach, though. He’d gone out of his way for me. I wouldn’t repay him by throwing this job in his face.
“I’m on it,” I said as I walked back toward the table. I had a job to do. No matter how obnoxious the guests were, I was determined to do it.
One way or another.
10
TEN
Ididn’t like Tallulah. Not even a little. She hadn’t been this persnickety in high school, but obviously she’d added ten years of attitude with each year of her life. That didn’t mean I could sit back and watch her be harassed.
The day with Baskins and his stripper-loving entourage had been bad enough. Things only got worse over the next two weeks.
I understood about entitlement. I’d grown up in that world, after all. Certain individuals—and it wasn’t only men—thought that money meant they never had to compromise. The women who came through the high rollers lounge were as bad, if not worse, than the men. They looked down on Tallulah for her outfit, all the while flirting with me. Somehow, in their minds, a dealer was better than a server.
Still, Tallulah put on a brave face. All the while, I could see her self-confidence eroding. This job was eating her alive and not only because of the customers. Kyla seemed to have a problem with her, too, which was funny because she’d been nothing but pleasant to me. Sure, when Tallulah and I interacted, Kyla immediately came over to give both of us ahard time. When it was just me, however, Kyla was pleasant and almost funny.
I had no idea what was up with her. I made it a point to keep my head down and my energy level up when she was around. Otherwise, I went through the motions of doing my job. It wasn’t difficult, and action in the lounge was hit or miss. Sometimes, I was busy for hours. Other times, I had nothing better to do than watch sporting events play out on the screens. Even if there weren’t professional games for the gamblers to bet on, horse and NASCAR races could keep them entertained.
For some, gambling was a sport all its own. I’d never understood the appeal of gambling, but I was benefitting a great deal. I’d already socked away more money in two weeks than I would’ve made in three months if I hadn’t been promoted. My luck at falling into the high rollers lounge was giving me ideas.
If things stayed as they were—and it hadn’t been that busy—then I would have enough money for my gallery in less than a year. A couple lucky nights with big winners would make that closer to six months. The plan I’d had in my head was quickly shifting, and that was a good thing.
