Blue Streak: A Blue Series Novella (7 page)

Her expression is frozen for a split second, a hint of real fear in her eyes. Then she huffs out a breath. “You can’t be serious.”

“I couldn’t be more serious. I wish you the best.” I stand and step toward the door, hoping she’ll get the hint.

I’d tell her she’ll make someone happy someday, but I don’t believe it after what she’s put me through. Alexis is conniving, backstabbing—an all-around miserable person. I hadn’t realized it until I finally came up for air. With Nessa.

The moment I kissed Nessa, my fucked-up world righted itself.
This
was how it was supposed to be. Not the cold, warped thing I’d had with Alexis, or anyone else.

“Of course we’ll see each other. You don’t cut ties like the ones we have.” She follows me toward the door and tries to touch me again.

I grab her wrist before she makes contact, and ease it to her side. “You and I have never been together. Not like that. And no, we won’t see each other again. I’ve moved on.”

Her gaze narrows. “With who?” There’s a hard edge to her tone, and I wish I hadn’t said anything.

“No one for you to concern yourself with. I’m sure you want me to be happy.” I don’t think she gives a fuck about my happiness, but I’m trying to subtly convince her to take the high road.

“Darling, we can at least be friends, can’t we?” Her words are sweet, almost warm, but I know better. She’ll use any means to sink her claws into me—to make me think she cares when she really only cares for herself.

More important,
I
don’t care for her anymore. “No. We can’t.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “This is ridiculous. What does this little bitch have on you? Don’t tell me she won’t share. We both know you’re not the commitment type.”

I haven’t been, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be. The hookups I’ve had, in between nights with Alexis, were all a means to cleanse the filth, yet they left their own inky stain. I didn’t care for those girls, other than wanting to make sure they had a good time and got home safely. There’s never been anyone I’ve wanted to commit to, until Nessa.

There’s no way I’m sharing Nessa. Wouldn’t even consider it.

And if Nessa will have me, I’m all in.

[I
pull up
to Nessa’s apartment around ten, after shoving Alexis out the door. I told her to mind her own damn business and stay away after she probed into who I was dating. I practically had to pry the key to my house out of her hand, but I got it back. If I hadn’t, I would have paid to have the locks changed.

Ironically, in the three years since I bought the place, this morning was the first time Alexis has ever used the key. And it will be the last.

I made a quick run to Muffin Top to pick up two lattes and some pastries, hoping to share a late breakfast with Nessa. Despite my unwelcome visitors, it’s still early enough that I might catch her at home. Where we can talk… and define things. Because I don’t like the way she ran out without saying goodbye. Left a bad feeling in my gut.

I knock on the front door of her apartment, and her roommate answers. “Hey, Teresa. Nessa around?”

“Hi. No, she’s out running errands.”

I let out a low sigh. This morning isn’t working out the way I expected. “You know where she went?”

“I don’t. Sorry. Want me to leave a message?”

I hand Teresa one of the lattes and the bag of food. “Just tell her I’m looking for her. I already left her a message on her phone.”

This is beginning to feel like more than Nessa and I simply missing each other. Is she avoiding me?

I walk to my truck and think back to last night—and the best sex of my life. The connection we had was intense. Was it too intense? Did I come on too strong? We’re good friends, and maybe she’s freaking out about what happened.

I rest my forehead on the steering wheel. “Get a grip.” I need to simmer down and let her volley back with a call or text.

I’m not used to caring about whether or not I see a girl. I don’t know how to handle the situation. A relationship with Nessa isn’t what I set out to have. I’ve tried to protect her—to stay away. But it didn’t work. I wanted her too badly.

Now that we’ve gone there, there’s no going back, and I don’t even want to. I didn’t realize what I was missing until Nessa and I made love.

God, I’ve turned into
that guy
—a pussy-whipped dude who thinks about love and shit. Whatever. Nessa’s worth it.

Tonight we’re both working the Bitchin’ Eighties party at Blue. If we don’t connect before work, I’ll ask her to meet up with me afterward. One way or another, we’re hashing this thing out, because her leaving me after the best sex in the history of hot sex was not cool. And if, in the back of my mind, I know the connection had way more to do with Nessa and less to do with sex, I’m keeping it there. I’m not about to overanalyze my feelings right now. I just need the girl to answer my calls.

*

Nessa

I’ve been a
nervous wreck all day. After running every errand I could find to keep from thinking about Zach, I finally checked my messages. My sister called once, and Zach called twice. Teresa said he also stopped by.

Teresa already interrogated me about where I was last night, and I’m pretty sure she knows something’s up. I didn’t go into details, but she’s aware I spent the night at Zach’s place. She’s asked me about my feelings for him before. I’ve kept mum about it, hiding them from her the way I’ve done with my other friends, but my roommate is definitely on to me.

The food Zach brought me was sweet, but it could also be a peace offering for the mistake he’d made. He may not have long-lasting relationships with women (or more than one date), but he’s always been a decent guy. He wouldn’t straight up bail—
God,
exactly the way I did.

I was a giant wuss this morning, and I still am. I don’t want to lose Zach, and I figure if I avoid him, I don’t need to face it. Irrational, but effective.

A little voice in the back of my mind keeps piping up that he might actually
want
to see me. That maybe he didn’t like it when I left this morning. I’ve been squelching it because I don’t want to get my hopes up. Zach is the king of casual hookups. In any case, I’ll see him tonight at Blue, because for once, we’re working together in the same room. No more hiding. Time to face him.

I’m freaking out as I make my way into Blue.

Deep breath.
Still fifteen more minutes before my shift begins.

I take the elevator to the executive floor. I arrived a few minutes early to ask Mira a question. It’s the beginning of my shift and the tail end of hers, but I should be able to catch her.

I wave to Gayle, the receptionist, as I pass through the executive lobby. Word is that Gayle used to be a cocktail waitress until she landed an admin position. She’s wearing a professional pinstriped navy suit, but as always, she’s got on heavy makeup, and her hair is bright red. I can totally picture Gayle downstairs at one time with the rest of the waitresses. And I’m hoping to follow in her footsteps—with an executive job, not the red hair dye.

I wind my way down two corridors to Mira’s office. She has one of those cramped, no-windows spaces. I’d like to say it’s homey, but really, it’s not. One wall is taken up by a giant whiteboard filled with dates and events spread across it, the other houses a large, half-dead plant.

Mira glances up as I walk in, and smiles. “What’s up, girl?” She shoves on the heels she tucked under her desk and gives me a hug.

I razz her for not showing up last night after she guilt-tripped me into going to taco dinner, and she gestures to her desk. It’s piled high with folders.

“Is that what you were working on?”

“Yes.” She sighs. “Blue has been suffering from a staffing shortage these last few months. We’ve got a new guy in hospitality, but the rest of the work falls on me or Hayden. How’s the floor? I take it you’re working tonight, since you’re here.”

“Yeah, I’ll be in the club.” No need to tell Mira I’m working the Bitchin’ Eighties party. She’s more up on Blue events than anyone I know.

“I actually came in a few minutes early to ask you something.” I tuck a lock of long hair behind my ear, suddenly nervous. “Can you let me know if a position opens at Blue that you think I’d be qualified for?” I rattle off the internships I completed in college.

It’s promising that Blue needs more support, but I have little to no real job experience. Still, I’m hoping something pops up that could get me in with the executives.

I can’t believe I’ve been working as a waitress for more than a year. My parents hounded me when I first moved to Lake Tahoe about getting a “real job” after they spent so much money on college. A year and half later, I’m realizing that time got away from me. It’s been so long, even my parents have gone silent. But I’m ready to branch out.

“I’ll check out the other casinos as well. I just wanted to touch base with you first, since I’m already working at Blue. It can’t hurt to have floor experience, right?”

“Absolutely not. And you’re being ridiculous. Of course I’ll help. Actually…” She taps her chin. “I have something in mind. Could be really good.” More tapping.

She’s making me nervous. “Whatever it is, I’m up for it. I’m totally flexible.”

“Good, because there’s just one hitch. It’s not a paid position.”

*

Tonight I’m in
a killer eighties getup, complete with leg warmers and an off-the-shoulder sequined top. A short, stretchy black miniskirt completes the outfit. Thankfully, because it’s a themed night, I’m getting away with wearing my platform tennis shoes. One of my errands this morning was a trip to the doctor. Turns out I didn’t break my toe this morning—it only felt like it.

That’ll teach me to have a pseudo one-night stand and sneak out in the wee hours of the morning.

My toe feels like crap, and if it weren’t for this eighties night, I’d have to call in sick. No way could I work in heels. Platform sneakers, though, I can handle.

I attack the last of the hooks on my bustier—because even in eighties garb, Blue still has us boobed up to our chins. I suck in and spin it around so it’s holding up what little God gave me. I’m not the most well-endowed girl, but even I have a rack in Blue uniforms.

The cocktail waitress outfits are pretty and fun to wear, but I’d have no problem hanging them up for stylish business attire. I’m not going to lie, when I stopped by Mira’s office before my shift, I was thinking of a paid position. But the internship she told me about sounds perfect. So perfect, I could temporarily look past the unpaid aspect. I’d be working in the marketing department, assisting the manager.

Interning for a few hours before my waitressing shift begins would make me busy, but if all went well, it could lead to a solid paid position. And unlike most companies offering entry-level marketing jobs, the casino actually pays well, which is why they recruit through internships.

It’s time I put myself out there again, or I might end up a forty-year-old waitress at Blue Casino with dyed black hair and corns on my feet. Waitressing is easy, the people are nice, and the money is good. And it’s nothing like the exciting marketing career I envisioned when I graduated from college.

So many Lake Tahoe waitresses have made careers out of it. They’re living in paradise with good pay, and it’s not so bad. But it’s not me. I’m not sure how it happened. How I got stuck this last year. And after making what could be the biggest mistake of all by sleeping with one of my best friends—who happens to be the guy I’m stupidly in love with—I need a change. I need to move on. My love life might be in turmoil, but I can take a stand with my career.

I walk through the casino on my way to the Blue club, and several patrons turn their heads and gawk. Hopefully that’s a sign of solid tips in my future. This eighties outfit is going to pay the bills. And being busy at work is a good thing, because I’m freaking out about seeing Zach.

I walk past the bouncer in front of the velvet rope to the club. There’s no one in line, but it’s still early. People won’t begin pouring in for another hour.