One (6 page)

"Um-" I
stammer, feeling another shade of red creep over me.

"Maybe we'll do
more than
just
up and down. Maybe we'll try other…
positions
as well."

I swallow nervously.
Now I know what it means when someone says they wish the ground would
swallow them up. That's how bad I want this conversation to end right
now.

"What do you say?"
he asks in a teasing tone.

"I have to go to
work," I answer honestly, shifting from one foot to the other.

"You work here?"
he sounds surprised.

I nod in affirmation.
"Today's my first day, and I'd really like to make a good
impression so I should probably go."

"Hmm." I
can't read the expression on his face.
Did I sound rude?
"It
was nice bumping into you," I add.

"Was it nice
riding me too?"

My mouth drops open.
Pax's index finger taps my chin, and my lips close. He flashes me a
sheepish smile. He holds his hands up, palms facing me. "I'm
sorry, I couldn't resist," he tells me.

"Try," I
reply, noticing the warm green flecks in his pupils. The corners of
my lips tug further apart, wanting to break into a smile.

"You've got the
best facial expressions though. It's really hard to resist."

I shake my head, trying
to side step him, wondering why my face is itching to split into a
grin. Looking at him, it's obvious he's got charisma. He probably had
a normal childhood, and went on vacations every summer. He probably
grew up in a house with more than one bedroom, and got to eat three
meals a day. He probably doesn't know what it feels like to almost
die from hunger. He probably doesn't know what hunger
is
. I
look away.

"I should get to
work," I say.

"Yeah, you
probably should," he agrees, his gaze still focused on a part of
my face.

I'll probably never see
him again so I say, "See you around."

He lets me walk past
him. "See you."

I don't turn back.

It doesn't smell like a
restaurant. It smells like a fancy department store, with a mild hint
of something possibly roasting. The odor is interesting and curious
at the same time. My nostrils flare out. The space is larger than I
remembered it being, maybe because there aren't any customers right
now. I notice workers are dressed in black slacks or capris and a
snug white top. I see them milling around as busy as bees. The fast
rhythm is something I'm used to. For a moment, everything feels right
again.

I walk up to a waitress
cleaning one of the tables. I tap her lightly on the shoulders.
"Excuse me," I begin politely. She turns to look at me. Her
red hair and green eyes are the first things I notice. A second later
I register how
beautiful
she is. Suddenly, it all makes sense;
the way Anna was looking at me when I applied for the job, as if
there was something missing about me. Now I know what that absent
piece is: jaw-dropping beauty.

Her wide eyes blink.
"Yes?" She sounds a little annoyed. I wonder how long I've
been staring at her.

"I'm looking for
Anna," I tell her. She points to a black door that reads
"Employees only".

"Anna's in the
office. Second door to your right."

"Thanks," I
mumble. She doesn't answer me. I feel self-conscious now as I push a
loose strand of hair over one ear. My casual ponytail suddenly seems
out of place. The red head I'd talked to had sported a sophisticated
side braid. I push the door open and enter through a wide hallway
with polished wooden floors. The first door to my left is noisy with
the sounds of pots and pans being used. I go on my tiptoes and peek
through the circular glass in the middle of the wide double doors. I
see several people in white with chef hats moving around, oblivious
to my gaze. The kitchen is large; I've never seen a kitchen that huge
before. I remember Anna mentioning how the restaurant is used at
night, and it makes sense that they would need a kitchen that size to
cater to the parties they host.

Stepping back, I slide
my shoes over the wooden floor. I pause at the second door to my
right. Taking a deep breath, I knock on the wooden door.

"Yes?" I hear
a feminine voice call out.

"It's Julianna,"
I answer back.

"Come in."

Turning the knob, I
push the door open. Anna's office isn't overly large. I see her
sitting behind a half-circle desk. Her laptop is in front of her with
another larger computer to her left. Shelves line the walls, and
they're filled with books, and folders. She indicates the two chairs
in front of her.

"Take a seat,
Julianna."

"You can call me
Jules," I offer as I move forward.

"Jules," she
repeats, watching me slide into a chair. The cushion is soft as if
many people have sat there before. Her black hair is pulled into a
severe bun just like the day I'd applied for this job. Her brown eyes
are wide, and slightly slanted. Her sharp cheekbones make her look
intimidating, and I resist the urge to look down on my lap.

"Your papers?"

I pull out the
application packet from my backpack.

"Technically
you're already hired, but we need all the paperwork for pay roll, and
for our files." I nod. "Julianna Hendricks," she reads
my name out loud as she spreads the papers in front of her. I watch
her eyes drift over each line of information. It's so quiet I can
hear the noise from the kitchen.

"No phone number?"
she asks, breaking the silence.

"I don't have a
phone number, no." That would require having a phone, which I
also don't have. As an afterthought, I add, "Why don't I give
you the dorm number in case you need to get a hold of me?" I
suggest.

"That's a good
idea." I recite the number to her as she pens it on the black
line. There is silence again as she continues down my application.
Her brows furrow. "You haven't indicated who we call in case of
an emergency." Brown eyes crash into my hazel ones. I'm
determined not to look away.

"Correct. There
isn't anyone to call."

She folds her hands in
front of her, leaning back. She watches me for several moments. "What
about a boyfriend?" she finally asks. Against my will a picture
of Braidon flashes in my head.

"No."

"A friend?"
she presses.

Nat's face appears in
my mind, but I shake my head. I don't know her number.

"No one?"
Anna asks, pinning her eyes on me. She's like a laser, straight and
unflinching. I slide uneasily in my seat.

"No one," I
confirm.

She doesn't say
anything more as she flips the page. Tense quiet. "You have not
listed a reference contact."

My fingers fumble
nervously in front of me. "No."

"Have you been
employed before?"

"Yes."

"Is there a reason
why you have not listed your previous employer?"

Yes.
My hands
are shaking. I can't let my desperation show. My mind is reeling,
trying to come out with a plausible explanation. "I'm a very
hard worker, Anna. I can assure you that every employer I've ever
worked for has seen that." My voice is soft, so soft she has to
lean in closer to hear.

"So I'm just
supposed to take your word for it?" One eyebrow is raised. Her
tone is frosty and filled with disbelief.

"You said yourself
this is just a trial run," I remind her. "Let me show you
how hard of a worker I can be." I'm frantic, grasping at straws.
"All I need is an opportunity."

She leans back again.
Her fingers scratch at the desk in front of her. A frustrated sigh
escapes her lips. "It is not standard protocol to hire someone
without checking with their references first. How do I know you're
telling the truth about your work ethics? How do I know your previous
employer didn't fire you because you stole from him? How do I know
anything
about you?"

"You ask."
The bold words slip out of my mouth. "You watch." Her eyes
narrow in anger. "I promise you I am none of those things,"
I rush on, terrified she's going to ask me to leave. I decide to be
honest. "I'm someone down on her luck right now." I don't
pause for a breath. "Have you ever just needed one opportunity
to prove yourself? Sometimes life isn't fair. Sometimes no matter how
hard you work, you never get the life you see on TV," I say
quietly. "But that doesn't mean you stop trying. That doesn't
mean you can't overcome what you were given. That's what I'm trying
to do," I finish softly. "I'm trying to overcome."

She doesn't say
anything. Her face is expressionless, hard like marble. Even her eyes
are impassive, gazing at me with a sharpness I'm sure could break a
person. In that instant, my stomach decides to growl. I stiffen,
mortified by the sound. I pray she didn't hear it, but I have a
feeling nothing escapes her. Not even my desperation.

"A trial run,"
she finally says. Her voice is clear and loud in my ears. "If
you are not what you say you are, you will be fired immediately and
will not be welcomed at Maddie's or any of our affiliates ever
again." The chair creaks as she leans forward. "I will be
watching you. Show me that you belong."

"I do." Her
eyes flicker to my short nails.

"We'll see."
Anna's gaze goes to her laptop and inwardly I breathe a sigh of
relief. I stand awkwardly, waiting for further instructions. She
types something in her computer for several moments before she speaks
again. "Find Alex. He'll give you a tour and get someone to help
you with your uniform." She says no more.

I am dismissed.

* * *

I don't think I've ever
belonged less in a place than at Maddie's. Usually I'm like
camouflage, fading before anyone actually sees me. Here, I stand out
like a lantern among lamps. The whispers start immediately. I don't
blame them. My ratty sweatshirt has been in my possession for five
years because anything new I've owned has been sold to keep me alive.
I'm also half a foot shorter than all the women here. I've always
known I was petite, but here it's glaringly obvious. Every woman
looks down on me, literally bending their necks to look into my eyes
when we're introduced.

Alex is blond, and tan,
and he looks like how I'd imagine a Ken doll to look like if he ever
came to life. "You must be Judy," he says when I finally
find him. He stands up, dusting his pants as he does so. He's at the
bar stocking more bottles.

"Um, Jules,"
I correct, shaking his hand. His nails are short like mine.

"I'm sorry. Anna
just called down and it sounded like 'Judy'."

I shake my head. "Don't
worry about it."

"I'm supposed to
give you a tour, and then I'll have one of the girls get you your
uniform."

"Do you know if I
can start today?" I ask. The sooner I begin the faster I'll get
a paycheck.

"Anna said it was
up to you."

"I'd like to start
today if you don't mind."

"Sure. You'll
shadow me. I'll teach you how to work the computers and how we serve
our customers to get them to keep coming back." A hand sweeps
out to indicate the restaurant. "You'll notice that we draw a
variety of people from college kids to business folks. Our food is
affordable, and tasty if you can get over the amount of grease we
use." He shrugs. "Most people can though, especially if
it's slathered with our house sauces. That's our moneymaker, right
there. We have very high standards for our employees and for our
customers. Even though we're popular with the college crowd, you'll
notice we don’t take any bull from them. If they are asked to leave
they are never allowed to return again."

My eyebrows shoot up.
He flexes and I see the clearly defined muscles on his arms. "I
wasn't just hired because of my looks," he jokes. I don't laugh
because a joke is only funny if it isn't true. He
was
hired
because of his looks, and that includes his muscles.

A thought crosses my
mind: why was
I
hired?

"Are you under
twenty-one?" He breaks into my thoughts.

"I'm sorry. Come
again?"

"Are you under
twenty-one?" he repeats.

"Yes."

"You'll be able to
serve alcoholic beverages, but you may not drink it obviously. The
owners have installed many state-of- the- art machines in our
restaurant. You're going to find that standards are very high here."

The tour begins with
Alex explaining the different machines installed into the bar that
includes touch-screens computers for patrons to order their own
drinks. There's a beer "station" where customers can swipe
their credit card and are then given a cup to select the beer of
their choice. Alex shows me how to lift each lever up and the beer
selected instantly comes out like a fountain turning on and off.

"It's one of our
most popular attractions at the parties hosted here," Alex
explains to me. Next he shows me the dining room. During the daytime
the square tables are bare and gleam a metallic color, but at night
they're covered up with delicate colored fabrics that elevate the
chic atmosphere into something more stylish and intimate. Alex
describes the dining space as one large "complicated"
rectangle with the ability to section certain areas based on need.

"There have been a
few times where we've been able to hold two small parties here at the
same time. The designers we work with can turn this place into
something completely different at night. That's what's special about
Maddie's." He sounds like a salesman trying to pitch me a sale,
as if I'm not quite sold on working here. I listen politely,
absorbing his words and noting his confident mannerisms. He's been
here a while. He sounds like a leader. I wouldn't be surprised if
he's promoted soon.

"How fast do the
tables need to be decked out to accommodate for the night functions?"
he quizzes me.