Falling In (6 page)

She stood and picked up her supply bag. He stood as well, engulfing her and the surrounding space with his size. At her cart she stowed the bag on the bottom shelf.

“Your flowers,” she said, picking up the large arrangement and turning. Scout stopped abruptly, nearly smashing the flowers into his chest. He was right behind her.

His hand reached out and Scout's breathing stilled as he ran his thumb over her lower lip. “I can't seem to decide,” he said softly, “if your eyes are blue or silver. They remind me of the sky, blue at first glance, but really some unnamable color made purely of reflections. They remind me of diamonds.”

Mumbling a thank-you for the compliment, which he, in turn, thanked
her
for, her lashes lowered, breaking the spell, and he stepped away. She placed the arrangement on the sideboard and removed the wilting centerpiece from the week before. Scout was very aware of him watching her as she moved the bowl of fresh citrus to the bar.

He held the door as she backed the cart to the elevator, and he obligingly pressed the button. She couldn't bring herself to look at him again until the split second before the gilded glass doors closed between them. His expression was blank, but his eyes held a glint of promise. She knew in that moment she'd never leave this man's presence unscathed.

Chapter 5

Second Thoughts

By the time Scout's feet dragged through the door of St. Christopher's that night, her head was still out of sorts. Pearl had been stoned out of her mind and was barely able to speak when she arrived. Her mother rested naked on her makeshift pallet, not thinking clearly. After Scout had settled her a bit, she bathed her as best she could with the bottle of rainwater she'd collected, and cried.

Tracks from shooting up had disfigured her mother's flesh permanently. Her eyes were unfocused and as Scout tended to her needs, her mother told her about her beautiful daughter, Evelyn, who hadn't come to visit in a while. Some days she wondered why she didn't just let her go and save herself the torture of watching her mother slowly kill herself.

By curfew Scout was nothing more than a rundown body needing a long night's rest. Parker wasn't waiting for her tonight. No, he'd already be inside eating. She'd missed supper. Luckily her belly was still full from the lunch Mr. Patras provided. Lucian Patras was an entire other issue her mind was too exhausted to think about.

Wearily, her feet trudged the church steps. When she reached the basement, the dining hall was empty. Sighing, she turned and headed back outside to the school.

“Hey.”

Scout started as Parker suddenly jumped in step beside her. “Hey,” she replied wearily.

“I thought you were coming here after work so we could visit Pearl together.”

Shit. She'd totally forgotten he'd said he'd go with her. Made no difference anyway. If Pearl couldn't recognize her, her own daughter, she certainly wouldn't have recognized Parker.

“I'm sorry, Parker. I totally forgot.”

“Hey.” He frowned and pulled her to the side of the hall. “What's up? You look upset.”

Scout hadn't realized how close to tears she was. “It's nothing. She was just really bad today. She didn't recognize me, and she was covered in her own filth. Probably some of someone else's too. I couldn't leave her that way.”

A jerky gasp filled her lungs and she pressed her lips tight, refusing to cry in front of him.

Parker looked at her, not with pity, but the true understanding of a friend. Without promising something he couldn't guarantee, he did the only thing he could do to help. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight.

Scout leaned into his strong form and shut her eyes. Besides Pearl, Parker was the only person she ever let touch her, and even that was a rare occurrence. His arms wrapped around her and he whispered, “I'm sorry, Scout.”

Swiping at her insistent tears, glad no one else was around at the moment, she said, “It's okay. It is what it is.”

His large, firm palm rubbed over her back. He smelled nice. Her nose breathed in the traces of soap clinging to his sweater. He must've washed it recently.

“She's getting so thin. As I bathed her I could count her ribs. She doesn't even have breasts anymore. I'm so afraid of the day I'll go there and she . . .” A shaky breath cut off her fears.

“Shh, don't talk like that. You're a good daughter and your mother loves you. You're doing everything you can to help her.”

Although Pearl was adamant about staying out of the shelters, with a little bit of money, Scout could maybe find a small place for her and Pearl alone. Her mother had been raped when she was in her thirties at a shelter, and since then had never entered another. If she could just get her away from the mill, away from the tracks and those assholes down there, maybe she could get a little better. Some days Scout saw signs of the old Pearl, but most days she was a realist enough to know her brain was too far damaged from drugs and hard living to ever return her mother to her.

Her mind switched to Lucian Patras and his offer. If she helped him, maybe he'd help her get help for Pearl. Maybe if she could afford a good doctor and could put her mother on some sort of medicine, she could get better. Pearl had to be less than ninety pounds at this point.

At the rate her mother was withering away, she didn't have much time left. She was going to do what she was going to do. Every decision she made had a direct correlation to how she'd obtain her next fix. She'd sell herself to anyone to score a hit, and every time she did it brought her a little closer to death. Scout could sell herself just the same, but without the risks Pearl tempted with such dealings. Mr. Patras was worlds away from the men her mother dealt with.

Breathing in the last bit of Parker's strength and familiar scent, Scout straightened her shoulders and pulled away. Enough self-pity.

“Thanks, buddy. I needed that. Don't tell the others or I'll have to retaliate just to prove I'm still a hard-ass.”

He smiled sadly and wiped away a tear her cold fingers had missed. “No one doubts your toughness, Scout. You're one of the toughest girls I know.” He reached into his pocket. “Here, I saved you my roll from supper.”

Her heart swelled. Parker was an awesome friend. “Thank you, but you keep it. I already ate my fill today.”

There was no need to tell him. As much as she wanted to tell him about the amazing feast earlier, in the light of their existence it now only seemed cruel.

“You sure?”

His hunger was evident in the way he held the stale bread. She smiled. “Yeah, I'm sure.”

By the time they made it into the gymnasium, it was already lights out. Scout said good night to Parker and went to the ladies' room. Sometimes it was nice to be the last one standing. She needed a good wash and having the restroom to herself made that a little more possible.

***

The following morning Scout arrived extra early at Patras. She hadn't slept much the night before. The moment sleep found her, her dreams were restless. Horrible visions of her mother's skeletal form filled her nightmares. By the end of her last dream she realized it was not Pearl she was seeing, but her own reflection. As her body jerked awake her mind gave up on sleep, and Scout decided to dress for work.

The shelter didn't offer breakfast, and residents had to be out by eight. She often wondered where Parker spent his days. He never went far and most of the time he could be found at the Folsom library. Some days he'd take her there, and they'd find a quiet corner and he'd read to her. Other days he'd pick a children's book and guide her as she struggled through. She loved those days.

She decided not to mention Lucian Patras to Parker. He wouldn't understand, and she didn't feel like being judged. It wasn't that Parker was overly judgmental. He was just protective of her and worried like a mother hen at times. He also thought she had an unhealthy obsession with money, but from her impoverished perspective, money ruled the world.

After stuffing her belongings in her locker and taking inventory of her cart, she waited for Tamara outside of her office. Pulling an emery board out of her pushcart, Scout tidied up her fingernails as she waited.

Her mind of course wandered to Lucian Patras. If his offer still stood, she was pretty certain she was going to take it, with some conditions of her own. He was right, everything did have a price, and her morals seemed on sale at the moment. While the idea of visiting a salon and actually having her hair cut professionally for the first time in her life was appealing, it was also worthless. Clothing, however, could be sold and jewelry could be pawned.

It was wisest to think in matters of moving on. Mr. Patras was, in some odd way, attracted to her, but once he figured out how inexperienced she was with men he'd likely send her packing. She needed to go into this with a plan. Even if it only lasted a day, there was no way she was leaving empty-handed.

For a moment Scout allowed herself to fantasize about the bathtubs in the hotel. He'd said he'd arrange for her to have a room. One time she sat on the edge of a hotel bed after suffering a dizzy spell from not eating enough, and she was amazed at how soft and plush the mattress was.

If Mr. Patras actually did as he said and put her up in a room for a night, chances were she'd never want to leave. Scout wanted to know what it felt like to bathe in one of those grand tubs with the jets and use those fancy bath salts housekeeping left on the vanities for guests.

“You're here early.”

She jumped as Tamara headed in her direction. Stowing her file in the pocket of her apron, she stood. “I couldn't sleep so I came in early.”

Her eyes crinkled warmly. “Give me a minute to put down my stuff and start the coffee and I'll give you your schedule.”

Scout waited by her office door as Tamara stowed her bag under her desk and hung her coat on a hook behind the door. It was a nice coat. Warm-looking and thick wool in a lovely royal blue. Tamara always had nice clothing. She wore something different every time Scout saw her.

“Okay,” she said as she rolled her chair closer to her desk and pulled out a stack of papers. “It looks like today you have fifteen penthouses.”

She handed Scout the slip of paper.

Scout frowned. “What about the master suites?”

“Mr. Patras didn't put in for housekeeping today. He usually only requests the maid services once a week. It was odd he asked for his suites to be cleaned two days in a row, but if there's one thing I know about him it's that he's eccentric. No use trying to figure him out. Hey, are you feeling better?”

Scout's head tilted in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“You left early yesterday. I assumed you weren't feeling well.”

Her face flushed with embarrassment.
Damn meddling hotel owner.

“Oh, yeah. I'm fine. I had an unsettling lunch.” Not a lie.

“Oh, good, I'm glad it wasn't anything serious. With flu season coming up you can never be too sure. That reminds me. Here's my cell number. If you're ever sick, call there or text so I know before I get here. That way I won't be scrambling to find someone to cover your rooms.”

Tamara slid her a glossy white business card, and Scout slipped it into her pocket. She didn't know how to text and didn't have a cell phone to text on, but there was a pay phone at St. Christopher's if she ever needed to reach her boss.

Leaving the GM's office, she passed the other maids coming in. Ignoring her disappointment that Mr. Patras had had a change of heart, she focused on her work. She'd just have to stick to her original plan. Work hard, make money, eventually have the means to afford her own apartment and get Pearl off the streets.

The pinch of regret hurt more than she'd expected. She should've agreed yesterday, while the offer was still on the table. All her anxiety about being intimate with him and her stupid, stubborn pride had wound up screwing her out of opportunities she'd likely never come across again in her lifetime.

Her original plan seemed to have lost a bit of its luster since she'd been offered a much faster solution. But that was no longer an option. She should be feeling like she'd made a lucky escape. She should have known better. Nothing was ever easy. She was a fool to assume a man like that could actually want her.

Scout pulled her cart off the elevator and onto the thirtieth floor, ignoring the unsettling feeling filling her belly as she passed the private bank of elevators to the master suites above. Focusing on her tasks for the day, she threw herself into dusting the banisters of the common areas and polishing the furniture at each sitting area until her reflection showed in the cherry finish.

By eight, guests had begun heading out for the day or simply traveling down to the restaurant for breakfast, and she started on cleaning the suites.

Just before noon someone called her name. “Scout? Are you in there?”

She turned and found a flushed Tamara looking for her. She was out of breath.

“Tamara? Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” she panted and wedged her fist into the side of her nipped blazer. “Sorry. Cramp. Mr. Patras called. He expected you to tend to his suites first thing this morning. He must've forgotten to call it in. I need you to go up there right away.”

Scout stood unmoving for a moment, spray bottle of disinfectant hanging in her left hand and a rag in her right. Tamara shoved a keycard in her direction. She quickly peeled off her gloves and took the card.

“What about this room? I'm not finished.”

“I'll find someone else to finish it. Just go. Mr. Patras doesn't like to be kept waiting and he didn't sound happy when he called.”

Well, that wasn't her fault. She quickly returned to her cart and replaced her items.

“Here, take what you need and I'll take this down for you,” Tamara said quickly.

Scout had never seen her GM so flustered. Her stout form got behind the cart and quickly pushed it in the direction of the service elevators. Scout hastily grabbed a few necessities and cradled them in her apron. She pulled the door to the half-cleaned room closed and went to the private elevators.

Her heart skipped nervously in her chest as she rode to the top. It was impossible to determine if she was nervous or excited. The elevator quietly chimed, announcing her arrival. Her knuckles knocked softly on the private entrance.

“Housekeeping.”

“Come in.”

At Mr. Patras's sharp command, she slid her key through the lock and entered. He sat at his messy desk with a phone to his ear. His eyes drilled into hers and her steps faltered. He jabbed his finger through the air and pointed to the sitting area and mouthed
sit
. She didn't appreciate the way he scowled at her.

His outburst jolted her into motion and she quickly sat.

“Sell ten percent of my shares and then do your goddamn job and use your brain next time!
What the hell am I paying you for if you can't even keep an eye on the market? I don't want to hear from you again today unless you're calling to tell me good news about my net worth.”

He slammed the phone into its cradle and stood. “You're late.”