Priceless (20 page)

Kat pulled out her purse and flipped through a wallet of photos. “This is Janey.” The picture showed a classic beauty, smiling sweetly for the camera. She looked every inch a prom queen.

“Anyway, she came in and sat on my bed in the dark and asked me about the prom. She’d watched me leave; she knew I’d decided to go dressed as myself, if you follow me. I told her about it, how nobody had spoken to me all night, how I’d sat at the side alone.” Kat’s face had grown dreamy, remembering. “She didn’t say anything for a while, then she kind of gave a big sigh and leaned over and hugged me. She said, ‘Kitty Kat, fuck
them. In ten years, they’ll be fat and frumpy, looking like each other and crying at night over their cellulite and their cheating husbands and their bratty little kids. You will be as elegant and beautiful and unique as you always have been, and they will look at you and know that they caged a rare bird instead of learning to fly themselves. Their loss, cherry pie, and your gain.’”

Kat had tears in her eyes, and Charlotte was deeply touched. She obviously remembered the scene all too clearly, even after several years.

“And I told her what I had done, and she called me an idiot and told my dad, and we went to the hospital, and they pumped my stomach.” Kat opened her eyes wide and looked squarely at Charlotte. “Listen, girl. You cannot let the words of other people enter your brain as if they were truth. They’re not. They’re just meaningless gossip and pointless opinion, and if you lose sight of that, they’ve won.” She waved her hand at the laptop. “Someone’s bothering to follow you around and take pictures and then scurrying home to upload them, spending hours on it? What kind of life is that?” She got to her feet. “Come on, I’ll take you back to the kitchen and introduce you to the guys. Trust me, they don’t give a shit who you are. All they care about is how cute your ass is and how fast you wash a dish. We can talk about the guy with the camera later.”

Charlotte followed her to the back of the restaurant, thinking about what she’d just heard. Kat was awesome, and she felt lucky to have met her. But she wasn’t sure she had the strength this Southern girl had. She felt very much alone and unsure of who exactly she was. She’d been one of those bitches, and she wasn’t sure she knew who she was if she wasn’t comparing herself favorably with some loser. What if she didn’t have enough
substance to stand alone? If she gave up being a rich girl with a bad attitude, what did that leave her with?

Then she stepped into the steamy maelstrom that was the kitchen and started to find out.

The first one to notice her was a short guy who was spraying water from an overhead faucet onto a pan that seemed almost big enough for him to climb into.

“Yo, Kat brought a friend—
une amie … jouer
…”

Kat laughed. “Not to play, Ronnie, to work. This is Charlotte. She’s going to show you guys how to do it back here.”

A handsome black guy leaned back from the grill and looked Charlotte carefully up and down. “I’d like to see how she does it. Go ahead and show us, baby.”

Charlotte smiled and said nothing.

The man looked around the kitchen.
“Elle est toute petite, elle sera inutile.”
The Creole was heavily accented, but Charlotte could grasp it: “She’s very small, she’s going to be useless.” She kept her smile in place.

Another chimed in.
“Ouais, mais des petits mains ferraient paraître ta bite plus grosse.”
OK, this one was easy: “Yeah, but her tiny hands might make your dick look bigger.”

And a third,
“Je lui donnerais bien un truc à sucer.”
Apparently, this one wanted to give her something to suck on.

OK, enough was enough. Charlotte cleared her throat. “
Je doute que tu me proposes quoi que ce soit d’appétissant, mon chéri, mais tu peux peut être travailler de nouvelles recettes
, eh?”
Roughly translated, she’d responded that she doubted they had anything she’d find appetizing, but perhaps she could teach them some new recipes.

There was a moment of shocked silence and then a roar of laughter. A good-looking girl who spoke dirty French? Bonus!

“Bravo, baby.” Ronnie wiped his hands dry. “Now that we’ve got the traditional sexist bullshit out of the way, let’s put you to work.”

IT WAS INTERESTING
to see how long a manicure lasted in a busy restaurant kitchen. Hers was destroyed immediately, because Ronnie made her cut her nails, put on long rubber gloves, and tie her hair back under a hairnet. He handed it to her and sent her into the bathroom. With Kat’s help, she turned it into a Rosie the Riveter kind of ’40s chignon. However, when she came back out, he just barked out a laugh and pulled the net over the front of her hair, too.

“The idea,
chérie
, is to cover all your hair so it doesn’t drop into the food, get it? This is a kitchen, not a fashion show.” He turned to Kat. “How come you don’t give your pretty friend a job in the store?”

Kat shrugged. “Because I don’t need any help in the store, and I have no money to pay her with. Apart from that, it’s an awesome idea.” Clearly, she and Ronnie were old friends.

“And why isn’t she out front? Too clumsy to wait tables?” He was obviously smart and inquisitive, and after a brief nod from Charlotte, Kat gave him the 411.

He sighed. “Well,
cocotte
, you’ll be well hidden back here, and you’ll earn your money.” He looked around at the other guys,
who were larking around and playing with knives. “If anyone asks, just say you have a jealous boyfriend and you don’t want anyone to get hurt. They should leave you alone.” He looked her up and down again. “I myself am immune to your charms, because my heart belongs to Kat.”

Kat threw a slice of red pepper at him.

Once Ronnie had introduced her to the excitements of the dishwashing station—scalding water! industrial soap!—Kat leaned against the wall to watch her tackle her first stack of sauté pans.

“Charlotte, do you want to come and stay at my place for a bit? Until you get settled?”

Charlotte was surprised. She’d assumed she was going to stay at Millie’s for a while, especially as she and Jackson appeared to have signed a peace treaty that morning, but that didn’t mean she was totally cool with it. He was very attractive … and the sofa wasn’t all that comfortable.

She smiled at Kat. “Why are you being so incredibly nice to me? We just met, and you’ve found me a job, gotten dragged into an online gutter, and, most importantly, been a friend. Do I seem that pathetic?”

“Yes,” said Kat seriously. “Utterly pathetic.” She waited a beat, then giggled. “No, you don’t seem pathetic at all, but I live alone, I have a spare room, and I thought it might be fun. I’ll make you pay rent once you get paid, don’t worry. It’s not charity, it’s sensible.”

Charlotte was thrilled. “I would love to come live with you.
That would be totally awesome.” A thought occurred to her. “However, it might mean more trouble for you, with whatever wacko is following me. And it might get worse, I have no idea.”

Kat laughed. “Well, let’s just try it and see what happens, OK? If I wake up and find a horse’s head in my bed we can reconsider.”

Charlotte frowned.

“You have seen
The Godfather
, right?” Kat looked horrified. Charlotte shook her head. “OK, well, then that’s what we’ll do tonight after your shift. Here.” She scribbled on a notepad. “Here’s my address, it’s not very far. Call me when you’re done, and I’ll walk from my house as you set out from here. We’ll meet in the middle.”

“I don’t have my stuff. It’s at the Excelsior Hotel.”

“Oh, that’s right, where you were turning tricks.” Kat grinned. “We can pick it up on the way later.”

Charlotte was overwhelmed with gratitude. “You are so awesome, Kat. I can’t thank you enough.”

“Oh, I expect I’ll think of some way for you to pay me back,” her friend replied airily. “Besides, I’m planning on going through your bag looking for nice clothes to steal.”

Charlotte laughed. “There’s a 1972 Pucci clutch you can have if you like.”

“Right, then, I’m leaving.” Kat mimed a running start and gave Charlotte a quick hug. “Have fun with the lads. They’re harmless really.”

“I hope so,” Charlotte replied. “And if all else fails, I’ll blow them away with my high-power water cannon.” She waved the hot-water jet threateningly and laughed.

AS KAT WALKED
out of the restaurant, the man snapped a few shots and then clicked the lid on his camera. She wasn’t his main target, but she was nice local color. He hooked his camera to his laptop, downloaded and then uploaded the shots, and added them to his site, all while sipping his latte. Thank God for the Internet. He settled back and ordered a muffuletta with three kinds of meat. It was hungry work, ruining someone’s life.

CHARLOTTE’S SHIFT DIDN’T
end until nearly midnight, and she was dead on her feet by the time Ronnie said she could leave. But she was proud of herself. She hadn’t complained once, nor had she taken a break or slowed down at all. Ronnie and the other guys had noticed.

“You know,
nana
, you look as if the heaviest thing you’ve ever lifted is a charge card, but you’re strong, doll. You worked like a guy.” Ronnie slapped her on the shoulder, hard. “We’ll see you tomorrow, OK?”

She nodded and smiled tiredly. “Thanks, Ronnie.”

She called Kat from the bathroom as she pulled off her hairnet. “Oh, God.”

“What?” Kat had answered just in time to hear Charlotte’s shocked exclamation.

“My hair. It’s stuck to my head. Apart from this one piece in the back that’s sticking up like Alfalfa. I don’t know that I’ve ever looked this bad in my life.”

Kat laughed at her. “You might be revealing hidden rivers of vanity, Charlotte. Haven’t you ever worked hard before? Don’t you sweat?”

“Well, of course, but usually something more interesting is
going on than just washing dishes.”

Her friend just snorted. “Stop looking at yourself in the mirror, princess, and head out on Main Street. I’ll meet you halfway, OK?”

“Are you sure it’s going to be safe? It’s after midnight. What if no one is around?”

More laughter, then Kat hung up. Charlotte frowned, shrugged on her jacket, and headed out the kitchen door, down an alley alongside the restaurant. Two steps out, and she saw why Kat had laughed.

There were more people in the French Quarter at 12:15 at night than there had been during the day. It was swarming with people, and music of all kinds competed for airspace on the streets. Girls who were either hookers or just really bad dressers were catcalling and hollering at the groups of men wandering aimlessly down every block, and the smell of beer and pot permeated the air. Everyone seemed to be laughing and having a great time, and once Charlotte got over the shock of it, she felt herself starting to smile, too. It was like the world’s biggest block party, and as Charlotte walked along, someone handed her a martini glass, to go. Well, why not?

After a minute or so, she met up with Kat, and the two of them walked along companionably.

“Do you get used to it if you live here?”

“What?”