Irresistible (5 page)

When she’s gone, Dan turns to me. “Hello,” he says with a grin.

“Hello,” I reply, and we start chatting about the shift he’s just finished. Before I know it, twenty minutes have gone by and I have to go get changed.

I find the servants’ quarters, where there are lockers, showers, and a changing room the staff can use. As I get near the shower room, I can hear water running. I have a wild thought that it’s Jamie and Melanie and that they came in here instead of going to the pool house. They’ll probably have locked the door if it is. I try the doorknob and it opens. My mind is running through things I might see and how I probably shouldn’t want to see them. I’m just curious; it’s so unbelievable.

I walk in, and at first I can’t see anything through the steam. Then the running water turns off and the shower door swings open.

It’s not Jamie.

It’s a girl.

And she’s completely naked.

The girl looks at me with mild surprise but doesn’t seem too bothered that I’ve just walked in on her. Which is in complete contrast to me, standing frozen in awkwardness.

“Hello!” I say in a way that reminds me of Jeff. Or someone else old.

She has an angular face with sharp features, skin that is a coffee color, and long, dark hair cascading in dripping strands around her head. And no clothes, obviously. Her long, slim legs glisten, and she has small, round breasts that I am finding it hard not to stare at. It’s not that easy to keep eye contact with someone who’s naked. But when I do concentrate on her face, I think I know her, and then I realize—she’s the girl from Jamie’s Facebook pictures. This is Cleo.

“I’m s—” I start to say and then inhale a ton of steam and start coughing.

She looks at me coolly. “Got a towel?”

“Um, yeah, in here somewhere.” I fumble with my bag. With a pang of embarrassment, I realize I’ve brought Matthew’s old Thomas the Tank Engine towel. “It’s my little brother’s,” I mumble.

She shrugs and takes it. “I forgot mine.” She pats her body dry and then starts drying her hair, not covering up anything at all. “You’re new,” she says.

“I’m Mia. I started last week.”

“He said there was a new one. He’ll like you. Petite. Brunette. Good boobs.”

“Oh”—I have literally no idea what to say—“thank you.”

She’s blocking me from getting to the bench but doesn’t seem to have noticed.

“Um, Cleo, could I—”

She’s in the middle of tying the towel around herself and looks up at me through her hair. “Stalker …”

I freeze. Crap. I am a stalker. I literally stalked her on Facebook and have just announced it by knowing her name.

“Joke,” she says. “You’ve heard of me. That’s great.”

She says everything in a low, lazy way, like life bores her. I put my bag down on the bench and start getting changed. Another high-waisted black skirt and fitted white shirt. But I’ve got more makeup on today. Usually I just throw on a bit of mascara and lip gloss a few minutes before I leave the house, but today Gabi has gone all out by giving me smoky eyes as part of the Dan plan. I wonder if Jamie notices stuff like that. Cleo doesn’t have a makeup bag with her or anything, just a pile of clothes that she doesn’t appear to be changing
into. She’s sitting on the bench in my towel watching me get changed.

“When do you finish?”

“At eleven. But we have to clean up after that.”

“I’ll come by the bar. We’ll have a drink.”

“I can’t really—my stepdad’s picking me up.”

I’m in my clothes now and starting to leave. Cleo gets up and moves between me and the door. Still wearing my towel. I hope I haven’t accidentally given it to her forever. She opens the door for me to leave but is still in my way.

“Call him and cancel. It’ll be fun. We’ll get shit-faced, and end up fucking some waiters.”

“That’s rather sordid, dear.” Jamie has appeared at the door.

“Piss off, Jay,” Cleo retorts, moving back into the room a little.

“I’m sure this delightful little waitress doesn’t want to be dragged into your debauched world.”

“No,” I say, “but she would like to go serve tiny food to your guests, so if you could let her through, that would be great.”

“Well, if you think so little of the food, then don’t feel you have to hang around and serve it,” Jamie says, not moving out of my way. “There are plenty more where you came from.”

I suddenly panic. What if he pours port down my shirt and gets me fired?

It must show on my face, because he laughs.

“Take a joke, Joseph. But we should be getting along.” He still doesn’t move. “Melanie’s fascinating fiancé, Simon, has arrived to pick her up, and I’ve got some lovely photos to show him.”

Clearly I’m going to have to just barge my way out. For a second I am sandwiched between them. Cleo says, “Drinks later? I won’t take no for an answer.”

I sigh. I’m going to be late if I don’t get out of here. “Fine.”

“Fabulous,” purrs Cleo.

Jamie eyes me as I push past him. “Have a
fabulous
time, Joseph.”

When I get to the restaurant, I start laying out cutlery. I keep losing concentration and having to check that I’ve put the right things in the right order. Jamie’s naked girlfriend and the way he was looking at her keep popping into my head. She’s so confident. I doubt there are many girls who would tell Jamie to piss off. Maybe that’s why she’s his girlfriend.

I drop a spoon and bend down to pick it up. You don’t see naked people very often. Maybe in some magazines or online, but Cleo is my age. The only people my age I’ve seen naked are Gabi and Kieran. Gabi thinks it’s funny when you stay over at her house to wake you up by flashing or mooning you.

I’m going to have to stop thinking about this, or when the first guests come in I might accidentally say “boobs” to them instead of “menu” or “Can I take your order?”

Suddenly there’s a shriek from the front of the castle. All of the staff head over to see what’s going on.

It’s Melanie and a tall guy with a big nose, who I instantly recognize as Simon because I’ve seen about a million pictures of him on Melanie’s phone having a Turkish mud bath. They’re having a blazing fight in the front parking lot.

“What the HELL, Mel?” he yells, and covers his eyes.

She grabs on to his jacket and tries to get herself into his line of sight.

“No! No, he said it would be a nice thing—some nice photos of … of …”

“Of you in your underwear?” Simon is looking at her now, but not in the way she wants, I’d imagine—more like he’s wondering whether she’s gone insane.

“He said it was for
us
!” she pleads. “I was going to show you! Like a prewedding gift! I didn’t know he would send … He must have taken my phone.” Her eyes dart upward.

At the top of the main entrance door, one floor up, there is an enclosed stone balcony. Jamie’s leaning casually on the ledge. He gives Melanie a wave and a grin and holds up a phone.
Her
phone. He presses a few buttons, and there’s a short delay before Simon’s phone beeps. He looks at the message.

“Jesus Christ, not another one!” He looks at it. “Topless?”

Mel is sobbing now. “He … He said it was arty,” she says miserably.

Jamie then tosses the phone from the balcony and Melanie puts her hands out to catch it. She misses and it lands on the gravel. The screen is completely smashed. She scrambles to pick it up and then turns it over and gives a little cry. The case—a “pacifically designed” one, as she put it, featuring a picture of her and Simon and inscribed
M & S 4eva
in gold—has a long crack through it.

“Okay,” Simon says, gearing himself up. “Okay. I’m going to talk to him.” He strides purposefully along the gravel and through the reception door.

Melanie whimpers weakly. No one else can think of anything to say.

A minute later he strides purposefully out again.

“Where are the stairs?”

“Oh man! That was crazy. Pretty funny, though,” says Andreas as we head back to the restaurant.

I don’t say anything. It’s not funny at all to me, and I’m feeling that familiar wave of cold panic. The thing I felt for weeks after Kieran. I think it’s finally gone, and then something reminds me. I look quickly at Dan to see if he’s noticed my reaction. He looks concerned.
Please don’t let him know,
I pray silently.

“Hilaire!” says a girl’s voice followed by giggling, and I realize that two girls who aren’t waitresses are here as well. They have their hair piled on top of their heads, and one has a real Prada bag slung over her shoulder, so they must be guests. My mom has one of those, and it’s her prize possession. She won’t even let me borrow it because she says I’ll stretch it. I’m not exactly sure how she thinks I would do that. These two girls look only about fourteen, though.
They seem like they’re searching for someone and disappear through to the courtyard while we head to the restaurant.

When I go out onto the terrace to clear some tables, they appear again, walking through the arches, clearly having tracked down the person they were looking for.

They break into a bouncing run toward another girl sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest on the low stone wall that goes around the terrace. She’s tiny and delicate, probably what people would call waiflike, with long, wavy blond hair under a huge floppy white hat, which makes her look even smaller. She has huge sunglasses on too, so only a tiny bit of her face is actually visible. The other two spring up to her in a flurry of excitement.

“Omigod, Jay’s so hilaire! You’ll
nahver
guess, Dez.”

She frowns at them and says, in a sweet, tinkling voice, “My brother’s a dick.” Then her head snaps to the side and she looks straight at me. I realize that I’ve stopped next to the table I’m clearing and I am just watching them. She tilts her head forward so that the sunglasses fall onto her nose. “What?”

I hurriedly start clearing the glasses. She’s got the same deep brown eyes as Jamie; they bore into you like lasers.

On my way back to the kitchen, I plan to tell Dan that I’ve finally seen the other child that Julia goes on about, but as I near the door, I hear Dan talking to someone, and I’ve got a pretty good idea who it is.

“Come on, man, you broke the girl’s phone. We don’t get paid that much, you know.”

“Oh, don’t tell me the peasants are revolting.” I move closer to see Jamie’s helping himself to strawberries from the dessert cart. “Fine, I’ll buy her a new one. Or she could sell the pictures if she wants an upgrade.”

He moves to leave, but Dan is in his way, holding the dishwasher tray full of glasses.

“Excuse me, pot washer.”

Dan doesn’t say anything.

“Mr. Pot Washer?”

“I’ve got a name, actually.”

“Oh, do you? Don’t tell me, Sparky or something? Smudger? The plucky kid from the streets?”

Dan laughs and shakes his head. “Whatever, man.”

He lets Jamie past, and Jamie sees me hovering at the door. “I’ll look forward to the pleasure of your company later, Joseph,” he says and holds the door open for me.

“You won’t,” I say quickly, even though it doesn’t make sense. Dan looks sharply in our direction.

“We’ll see. Don’t bring your thug.”

I put my tray down and start loading the glasses into the dishwasher tray.

“I’ve got those,” Dan says in a clipped voice.

“I’m meeting Cleo for a drink after work.” I feel I have to explain. “She’s his girlfriend.” I’m trying to sound casual, but it comes out exaggeratedly cheerful.

“Oh, cool. Sounds fun,” he says, and then rams the tray of glasses into the dishwasher a bit more forcefully than usual.

“I probably won’t even go,” I say.

Dan shrugs. “Going to get my bag.”

He comes back a few minutes later in a rugby shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He leans against the door and looks serious.

“Did I tell you I lost my left side?” he says gravely.

“What?”

“Yeah, I’m all right now.”

He grins and I groan, but it turns into a laugh. I get a rush of warmth and want him to stay and hang out with me while I work my shift. He cocks his head to the side. “You in tomorrow?”

“Yep,” I say, the tension from a few minutes ago falling away. “Got my first early shift.”

“I’m on early too. Want to do something after?”

I get a warm buzz in my chest, just like the first time Kieran texted me. Except this time I don’t feel the need to think up a cool response.

“Yeah, definitely.”

I can’t stop smiling to myself after he’s gone. I bounce around the kitchen in a good mood and even offer to help Omar, the chef, make the salads. He says, “No, lady,” and moves the bowl of tomatoes away from me, but I just give him a grin and head merrily out to the bar. I check to make sure no guests, or Julia, are around, then take my phone out and text Gabi.

Dan plan update—“doing something” after work tomorrow! X

Her reply is almost instantaneous.

YES! OMG!! When n where? Gonna come stalk you. JOKE. But seriously wen can I come get free food? x

The shift is pretty quiet. Hardly any tables come in, and Suzy’s time is mostly taken up by the old guy steadily ordering more whiskey and giving her more tips. Ben, who’s on in the kitchen, goes home early, and soon it’s just me left.

I lean back against the dishwasher, willing the clock to reach eleven. Feeling the cool steel on my back, I immediately think of Gabi’s dishwasher comment about me and Dan. I
get that warm buzzy feeling again, remembering him leaning on the door frame, his rolled-up rugby shirtsleeves showing off the curves of his muscles. It’s like whenever he’s near me, I just want to hug him. What if it happens, one night at the end of a shift, and he just walks up and kisses me?

I put my head back against the dishwasher, imagining it’s his kiss moving me. I think of his hands running over me, in my hair and down my back. Like on my interview day when Jamie was kissing that waitress in the window and she would have felt the weight of his body pressed against her.

Dan’s kiss would be soft and smooth, I decide, and he’d start kissing my neck. I feel stubble grazing my skin. Suddenly, the brown hair I’m running my fingers through turns blond, and the chest pushed up against me is wearing an expensive shirt. He pulls his head back and fixes me with those dark eyes. For a second we stare at each other, and then he kisses the base of my neck, and lower, and lower, and his hands are on my legs, pushing up my skirt.