I’m convinced there’s a sixth sense women have when they know someone’s talking shit behind their backs. It’s a feeling. Your muscles go wobbly. Your skin constricts. Your face flushes, the blood filling it at least a few degrees hotter. Every instinct in my body tells me not to pull up my underwear, flush, and present myself.
So I stay quiet.
And I listen.
“…if I get the shit Monday brunch shift again, I swear I’m quitting,” says the unfamiliar woman’s voice.
“You’ve been saying that for months. Who would pay better?” Penny asks.
“Emeril’s new restaurant has openings.”
“Then apply,” Penny snaps, her tone full of irritation.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Sorry, I’ve worked six nights in a row. I’m exhausted. I’m about to cash out, clock out, and head home. I just rang out the VIP booth.”
“Speaking of which…” the other woman’s voice drops to a seductive purr. “Can you deliver a note for me?”
“What?”
“Your VIP table. You know who that is, right?”
“According to the credit card, his name is Griffin Harvey.”
She lets out a shrill chuckle. “You have no idea who the Harveys are, do you?”
Penny sighs, clearly trying to express her disinterest. “Outside of being the road block between me and my pillow—no. No, I do not.”
“Old money. The Harveys own like half the Strip. Worth billions.”
Penny grunts. For the first time in this conversation, she seemed amused. “Well, that explains the fifty percent tip—”
“Fifty percent?”
“And the old guy slipped me his room number. Can you believe that? My wedding is in six weeks, for Christ’s sake.”
“Ha. He’s worth the trade. You take the old man. I want his son.”
“Emma, you’re somethin’ else. And anyway, sorry to bust your bubble, but the woman he’s with is his girlfriend.”
The woman whose name is apparently Emma, snorts heavily. An obnoxious, condescending cackle that makes my skin crawl. “Who? Ms. Piggy? Yeah, I’m not so worried.”
My intestines twist. I draw in a deep, silent breath through my nose to hold back my tears. My bank account could swallow up this waitress whole. I am vying for a multimillion-dollar contract with one of the biggest luxury resort companies in the world. I am one of the most sought-after brand strategists on the West Coast. I know I’m better than this. But I allow myself a single tear, because nothing stings worse when a snarky bitch calls you fat.
“Wow, mean girl,” Penny says. I can’t see her face, but her tone is incredulous.
Thank you, Penny.
“Not cool. I bet his girlfriend and I could share a closet. If she’s fat, what am I?”
“You,” Emma coos, “are curvy and voluptuous and a total showstopper. She…is in my way.”
“You’re ruthless. And I can promise you, he’s not interested. His eyes were locked on his date all night.”
Emma’s laugh is villainous, causing my hurt to morph into red-hot, putrid anger. “Look, just slip him my number and tell him it’s from the waitress with the great ass, and I’m willing to let him play in it.”
“You mean with it,” Penny replies.
“Nope,” she says, popping the P.
And with that, I’ve heard enough. I yank up my thong and smooth my dress before I flush. I all but kick open my door, enjoying the look of the shocked faces in the bathroom mirror as they see me emerge. Penny flushes scarlet red and I finally get a good look at Emma.
Maybe she’s pretty. I’m not sure. I think her light blond hair and dark eyes would be considered striking to some. Yes, she’s probably at least three dress sizes smaller than I am. But it’s hard to process beauty when it’s sheathed in such an ugly personality.
They are completely still, frozen in place as I wash my hands with my head held high. I glance at myself in the mirror, ensuring there’s no evidence of the single tear I set free and my makeup is still perfectly set.
After I’ve dried my hands with the cloth towel and dropped it into the laundry bin, I turn to face the two women. I nod at Penny reassuringly. My fight is not with you.
I look at Emma, but she avoids my gaze. If Palmer were here, she’d take a swing. She’s defended me my entire life from mean girl energy. But Palmer’s not here, and it’s time to stand my own ground.
“Emma,” I say with my voice unwavering and smooth as silk, “I’ll make sure to let Finn know you’re interested, but if he contacts you, I sincerely hope you have more to offer him than your asshole.” I flash her a smart smile. “Good evening, ladies.”
Twice. Twice now, I’ve had to make a green-eyed bitch look silly in a restaurant. It seems every time I’m out in public with Finn, there’s a fight brewing. A fight for my pride. A fight to prove I’m worthy. If I don’t have the looks, I sure as hell have the wits. But how long can I do this? I never asked for this battle.
I ride the high of adrenaline as I float back to my table. I was hoping by now, Finn and Mr. Harvey have had plenty of time to discuss their family affairs. But as I near the booth, I see Mr. Harvey huddled into the table, the look in his eyes aggravated. He’s so invested in their conversation he doesn’t see me approach and his words ring loudly over the sea of murmurs and clanking silverware hitting porcelain plates.
“Champ, what are you doing? You can pull a much hotter woman than Avery.”
My knees go weak and I immediately slump into the empty booth behind Finn and his dad. I bury my head in my hand. This part I wasn’t ready for.
Emma was a small battle won.
I have a feeling I’m about to lose the war.
“What did you just say?” I snarl at my dad across the table, feeling my blood pressure rise.
“Avery,” Dad repeats. “I mean, she’s sweet and very smart. That’s kind of sexy. And she’s got a great set of tits. But come on…compared to your last girlfriend? Nora was a fucking ten. Avery’s a steep fall from grace, Champ.”
“Well, have at it. Nora’s available now.” Sort of. Maybe she’s cheating on Morgan, maybe she’s not. “Go ahead and give her a call. You have my blessing,” I practically spit at him.
“And take your sloppy seconds? I don’t think so.” He bellows in laughter, misreading my tone. There’s nothing funny about this conversation or about disrespecting Avery. We don’t see the world the same way. All I see with Nora is pain. All I see in Avery is hope. Hope is beautiful and sexy and seductive. Dad hasn’t had hope for a day in his life.
My eyes narrow before I throw back the last sip of my whiskey. Dad finally notices my scowl.
“Oh, come on, kid, I’m just saying. If you’re with this woman to appease Senior, I can tell you right now, there’s a way to sidestep that mess.”
“What mess?”
“Senior’s bullshit about the inheritance.”
Gramps’s rules make sense to me. Twenty percent of my inheritance is in the ballpark of eight million dollars. If I don’t have a family to support, I’ll only get half. Gramps also has the stipulation of vetting our significant others first. It’s his way of protecting us from gold diggers. We’d have to pry his money from his cold, lifeless hands before he handed over half of his empire to a shallow, money-hungry woman with no morals. His words, not mine. It’s why I never told Nora what I stood to gain. I wanted to know she loved me, not my worth. At least that part was true. I don’t think Nora loved me for my wallet. In fact, I don’t know if she really knew how to love me at all.