Blue Crush (4 page)

I freeze, my heels sinking into the carpet. The A-hole, my two-timing ex, makes his way over, his pale hair purposely tousled, his too-far-apart eyes glinting like he sees something he likes. And yes, he walks like he’s got a rod up his ass. Thanks, Mom, for that mental image.

“Hey.” He checks out my uniform from top to bottom. “You look
great.
Didn’t know you were working at this place.”

My throat clenches. Somehow, ogling from my ex is worse than from a stranger. “What are you doing here?”

“Just hanging with the boys. No girls allowed … unless you want to join us?”

He cannot be serious.

I never called him out on the two-timing bullshit. He probably believes I’d go back to him. “I’m busy.”

His gaze dips to my chest and holds for an overlong moment. “You sure?”

The A-hole has never seen my boobs in the light. There’s a possibility I was uptight with him in the sexual department. I can see how the girls served up on a platter
—thanks to my stupid uniform—
would be an ogling opportunity too tempting to pass.

I still want to slap him. He screwed me over and he thinks he can waltz in here and pick me up?

I grind my teeth, mentally forming a cutting, ranting, screw-off reply—which takes too long because I’m no good at it—when Jaeger strides in.

I totally get why Cali flirts with Jaeger. He’s tall and built, and sort of difficult to miss.

Jaeger sweeps around and hugs me from behind, his mouth near my ear. “Play along. I’m your boyfriend until this loser takes off.”

I sag into his arms.
Yes, the gods are watching over me today.

Cali was right. Jaeger and Mason are decent guys, even if things are a little awkward around Mason. I sort of dodged a kiss from him recently and he’s been avoiding me.

Jaeger’s laying it on heavy, nuzzling my neck. I’m trying not to laugh out of nervousness, and because Jaeger’s tickling the shit out of my skin. The A-hole’s face turns a purplish-red and he shifts from foot to foot, his jaw clenched.

“You think you can get away for a couple of hours tomorrow afternoon?” Jaeger whispers as if we’re just hanging, drinking a beer, not trying to make my prick of an ex-boyfriend uncomfortable enough to leave. “There’s something I want to show Cali, and you’re her best friend … I want your approval.”

Wait—hold up. Jaeger and Cali flirt, but is he serious about her? Cali and her jerk boyfriend just broke up a few days ago, so she is single now …
This could be so awesome.

I nod and smile lovingly at my not-a-boyfriend for my ex’s benefit, who is
still here.
Persistent much? Delusional?

“I’ll pick you up at lunchtime,” Jaeger says loudly.

The A-hole grunts and stomps off. Both of us ignore him, but the second he’s gone, Jaeger releases me, dropping his lover-like stance like an old T-shirt.

“Jaeger, that was amazing. How did you know to do that?”

His gaze flickers to Cali, who’s observing us from the pit.
Is she upset?
She looks upset. Jaeger flashes a broad smile my way. “Cali said you didn’t want that guy around.”

“Not at all, so thank you. I owe you one.”

“Nah.” He shakes his head. His eyes flicker to the side without quite catching on Cali this time. “But I could use your opinion. I was serious when I asked if you’re available tomorrow.”

“Totally, anything you want.”

“Great, except—um—maybe don’t mention it to Cali? I mean, she’ll know we’re going somewhere, but if you could keep what we do between us, I would appreciate it.”

“Okay.” Very mysterious, but whatever Jaeger’s about, it’s for Cali and I’ll help any way I can.

Jaeger takes off and I return to work, but my mind isn’t in it. It felt good to unleash some payback on my ex. True, I had help. Okay, a lot of help, but still, I’m fired up. I don’t like to think I cower before men, but the truth is, I tended to avoid confrontation with guys—disregarding warning signs and discovering too late that the A-hole had a girlfriend back home being a case in point.

I’m probably scarred from not having a father figure. Excellent.

A sharp pause in the atmosphere has my mind snapping to attention. The man I just served is staring, an indulgent smile playing along his lips. “Are you okay?”

“Sorry, what?” Jesus, get it together. Bad enough I let a guy nuzzle me during my shift. Executives are in the lounge. I need to keep my head in the game. These people could be the ones signing my paychecks.

“I asked your name.”

This man looks familiar. He’s wearing a loosened blood-red tie and white dress shirt, as though he just left his glass-encased office. I’m sure I’ve seen him in the lounge before. Good looking and young. Older than me, but not as old as the suits I typically serve.

The man he is with is equally put together, and they are totally out of place in my section at the rear of the bar. But between the executive meet-and-greet and our regulars, they didn’t have much choice.

“I’m Gen.”

His gaze slides over the length of me, then returns to my eyes. A calculating smile pulls the corners of his lips. “Jennifer?”

My shoulders curl in. “No, it’s Genevieve.”

“Where’re you from, Genevieve?”

“Dawson. I just graduated.” Dawson’s only a couple of hours away.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Drake Peterson, head of finance.”
Literally
signing my paychecks and I was zoning out in front of him. “How do you like working at Blue? Everyone treating you well?”

“They’re great.” No way am I telling this guy about the waitress pettiness.

“Good, well, maybe you’ll stay on. Some of the waitresses have been here a while, but with the right connections you can do well.” His gaze drops to my chest again.
Gah.

Between my ex and now Drake, I’m being tested, I swear.

“Thank you. So far, I’m doing okay.”

In reality, I could use a break to regroup after the A-hole encounter. I glance at the time on my watch, which I remembered to wear for once. I typically rely on my iPhone, but given I can’t squeeze anything more than boobs and ass in this uniform, I’m rolling old-school.

I serve a few more customers and check in with Amber. She scowls as I give her the rundown before going on break. She’ll have to take over my shitty section for a while, which means more work, less money, and she’s understandably unhappy about it. Even with the exec overflow, the majority of my clients are low tippers.

On my way out, I notify my tables I’m leaving. “Amber will be your new server,” I tell Drake and his friend. “Is there anything else I can get you before I leave?”

“You’ve taken good care of us, Genevieve. Oh—” Drake reaches inside his coat pocket. “Don’t hesitate to ask if
you
need anything.” He hands me a business card, a thick gold band with a dark sapphire glinting on his finger.

I mumble “Thank you,” and walk away, shaking off the dirty feeling he gives me.

I peer across the floor before stepping down from the lounge and spy Cali dealing beside Zach. They’re busy shuffling and counting, or whatever it is they do, the pit boss hovering like a guard dog. I don’t want to get Cali in trouble, but I’d love to vent about the A-hole.

Cocktail waitresses move in and out around the blackjack tables, taking orders and clearing glasses. Nothing unusual about me going over there—unless the person serving Cali’s table sees me. A senior waitress might think I’m trying to steal customers and decide to haze me with something other than Disney princess references.

The things I stress about on this job—seriously junior high.

Screw it. I walk up to Cali’s table and wait off to the side. One of her customers leaves and I flag her through the hole in the crowd, mimicking biting into a sandwich. I gesture to the basement entrance and she nods stiffly—which is odd.

Cali is laid back. I’m the uptight one in our duo. Is she stressed? The place is packed tonight. Understandable if she can’t meet me, but I hope she does. The A-hole’s presence is cause for a best friend gossip session.

On my way to the employee door, I run into Nessa. She points to a hole the size of a fist in her pantyhose, a nylon run stretching the length of her leg and disappearing into her shoe. “Gotta change.”

“Impressive. How’d that happen?”

“Snagged it on a bottle opener I dropped,” she says as we make our way down to the basement. “What’re you up to?”

“Break. I needed one. My ex showed up and cornered me.” A repulsed shiver jolts my spine. I really owe Jaeger one.

“Oooh.” Her face scrunches. “That bad? You tell the guy you’re not interested?”

“I kind of froze. By the time I got it together, someone stepped in.”

I walk Nessa to the vending machine … yes, there’s a pantyhose vending machine. Nylons are a requirement with our uniforms, as if microthin material covering asscheeks will make the uniforms classier. Pantyhose mishaps like Nessa’s are a frequent occurrence.

She pushes in a few quarters and out pops a pair of extra-small, sheer black nylons. My mouth twists, the encounter with Drake Peterson nagging me. “Nessa, have you ever had an executive hand over his business card and offer to help you?”

“What?” she says with a shaky smile. She pulls the pantyhose from the box. “Um, no. When did that happen?”

“Right after my ex showed.”

She stares. “Okay, you have man problems.”

“Right?”

“Right.” She opens her locker and kicks off her heels. “Maybe you need to step up your inner lioness. You have this sweet, vulnerable disposition, which is kind of awesome because you’re beautiful and you don’t act like it, but people take advantage of that shit.”

Cali once told me I never showed the A-hole who I really am. She thinks I’m a badass because I kick her butt at sports, but that’s not saying much. Cali has no athletic skills.

“What do you mean?”

She tosses the mangled hose on the bottom of her locker. “Escape your comfort zone and do something you’ve never done before, or would never do.” Her eyes light up. “Join a theatrical group, or sign up for online dating … scale a mountain
.
” She nods her head as if her ideas are brilliant. “Put yourself in a position that forces you to step out of your box. The confidence you build will reflect on the outside.”

I’m kind of wondering where Nessa is coming up with this stuff because she doesn’t look like a closet Buddhist, but she has a point. I don’t put myself out there enough—my mom had that market cornered.

I could try something new though. If showing outer confidence will help me cope with sleazy men, I’m all for it.

No way in hell am I joining a theatrical group—kill me now, please. But something that requires coordination? Not running, I do that every day and it’s not much of a challenge, but something I’m scared to try? Mountain climbing’s not a bad idea …

“Thanks, Nessa. I’ll think about it. I’d better get going, Cali’s probably waiting for me.”

Nessa waves me off and I book it to the cafeteria.

Cali managed to take a break and even found a table in the crowded room. She’s working on one of her intricate sketches, this one of a mountain landscape with a million of the tiny geometric shapes she uses to create images. I have no idea how she does it. Cali has serious artistic talent she never acknowledges. She calls her sketches “doodles,” and throws them out as if they’re trash. I’ve literally pulled the most beautiful picture of our college campus out of the garbage before. One of these days, I’m going to get her to realize how good her drawings are.

Cali finishes the last few shapes and sets the sketch aside. “What happened with the A-hole? I saw him swoop in, but I couldn’t get away just then.”

“He wanted to see what I was doing after work. As if I’d meet up with him …” I shake my head. Cali doesn’t say anything. “You okay? You seemed a little upset when I flagged you earlier.”

She shrugs off my question and I let her. We gossip about my genius ex for a bit, then Cali heads back to work. Her mood is strange, but I don’t push it. If she wants to talk, she will.

I run to the bathroom, but before I return for my shift, I stop at the bottom of the stairs to the casino floor. A flyer on the employee corkboard catches my eye. It’s an advertisement for the Alpine Mudder. Images of guys climbing a plank wall, wearing
Braveheart
kilts and blue face paint, mud smeared on their arms and legs. Pictures of a girl in a green bandana and sports bra, slithering in the dirt under barbed wire—I’ve seen this advertisement on Facebook. It’s some extreme obstacle course with mud and partying—the kind of event a bunch of ex-rugby players would be into.

I’d never do this. The Alpine Mudder is competitive (which I love), dirty (which I hate), and dangerous (not my thing).

Then Nessa’s suggestion about stepping out of my comfort zone pops into my head.

The cafeteria door is open, but no one is paying me any attention.

I scribble the Web address for the Alpine Mudder on my ordering pad and climb the stairs to the casino.

Cali and I are meeting Nessa after work tonight to hit the Blue club. By the time we arrive in the basement to change out of our uniforms, Nessa is already in skinny jeans, a flowing tank top, and gold heels. Her shoes are the length of a Twinkie to match her petite frame, and about the cutest child-sized adult shoes I’ve ever seen. I rush past her to my locker. “I’ll be ready in a minute.”

“Take your time.” She pulls out a makeup bag the size of a compact car. “I need to freshen up.”

Cali changes and puts on lipstick in the amount of time it takes me to untangle myself from the Houdini bustier contraption I wear for work. I hand in my uniform to the seamstress counter. When I return to Nessa’s locker, she’s still applying eye shadow.

I’ll have no problem catching up now. The only makeup I carry is a tube of lip balm. Mascara and blush are applied in the morning, if I’m not in too much of a hurry. This morning I had time and splurged on my appearance. I’m wearing my cute fitted jeans and a silky, emerald short-sleeved trapeze top, though I’ve already received a disparaging head shake from Cali over it.