Save Me, Sinners

“You know he’s got a reputation, right? With the ladies?” Gloria snorts. “If you can call them that, I guess.”

“This all looks fine, Lace,” I tell my head chef. “Send me the order you need. Ah… try to account for the recent dip. No point in buying product we won’t use.”

Lacey grimaces, but agrees. She hates the idea of running out of anything, I know, but it would be stupid of both of us to ignore the facts. “Sure thing. Say… two hundred for dinner? For the whole night?”

“Let’s be optimistic,” I tell her, “and go for… two twenty. I think there’s an auction going on at Hightower, but they’re only serving cocktails. We might get a boost.”

Lacey nods quickly, and is gone in a flash, counting out loud.

“You had a look, you know,” Gloria says. “Like you were into him. I bet he can smell that sort of thing a mile away. And he’s probably really touchy about money, too—you have to make it seem like you don’t care—”

“I don’t care, Gloria,” I snap. “About Jake or his money or any of it just... leave me alone about it, all right? It’s none of your business.”

“So what do you want me to do?” she asks.

“Nothing, Gloria! It’s my goddamned—”

“I mean for tonight,” Gloria says, grinning like she won whatever argument she thought we were having.

“Just… clean front of house. Carpets, tables, all that. Get Mitch and Rory to help when they get here.”

Gloria stares at me like I’ve struck her in the face.

“You’re the head hostess,” I tell her. “It’s in your job description. Go.”

She does, and I think again about when I can get rid of her. Once Mama is out of the hospital. She’ll have some sympathy from her friends, and Gloria’s mother won’t give her a hard time about it. She’s about as intelligent as Gloria, but she’s not a bitch. Where Gloria got that from is anyone’s guess.

I get to work on the financials while everyone is going about their own jobs to get ready for dinner service. The calming influence of numbers is soothing—no feelings to hurt, no machinations or bullshit to sort through. Math is clean, and never tries to deceive or double-talk you. Numbers are exactly what they appear to be, and lately they’re my favorite part of this job.

Even when there aren’t as many of them as there used to be.

I’m interrupted from my reverie by a Gloria’s signature throat clearing for attention. She never just knocks or announces herself—like I should be constantly awaiting a chance to see her and pay attention.

“What, Gloria?”

“You have a visitor. He was at the door, but I let him in since I figured you’d want to see him.”

She doesn’t cringe away from my glare like I want her to, so I wave her away. It’s not like I don’t know who it is. “Fine. I’ll be up in a second.” She leaves like a cat who’s been told there’s a mouse out front. Is that a stab of jealousy? Christ on a stick, what the hell’s wrong with me right now?

Just to make a point to myself, I make the last few notes in the ledger and then occupy myself on Facebook for five minutes. Let him wait; it’ll do him good.I can’t just leave him to Gloria’s wiles forever, though. Even he doesn’t deserve that. So I smooth my dress, check my hair, touch up my lipstick, and then make my way casually to the bar.

Jake is there, waiting for me, conversing with Gloria with a tense look on his face. He looks like a statue, almost, except for the thick, wavy hair. I have to stop staring at him—I really should be dealing with Gloria. She’s likely giving him the third degree, digging for whatever she can find... juicy tidbits, nuggets of gossip gold, or dirt on someone. Probably me.

“Jake Ferry,” I say, catching his attention—and Gloria’s—when I emerge from the back of house. “We don’t open for another two hours, you know.”

“Is that so?” Jake asks, smiling that devilish grin at me. Gloria may as well not exist at that moment, and I have to curb the strong desire to laugh at the sour face she makes. “I didn’t realize.”

“The hours are on the door,” I tell him as I lean on the bar from the inside. “They didn’t teach reading in whatever gold-plated private school you went to?”

“My school was plated in platinum,” he says rakishly, “and no. They just teach math and colors. Green, primarily.”

It’s so self-indulgent that I can’t help but laugh even as I roll my eyes at him. “Right. What are you doing here?” I divert my eyes from his; I don’t know what mine will say to him if he catches a glimpse of the real me.

“I wanted to see if I could take you out for lunch.” I glance at him in surprise and he winks at me, and I begin to wonder if food is what he means, or… “I know this great little Vietnamese place on the other end of town. Unbelievable food. Devastating price tag. What do you say?”

“It’s almost three o’clock,” I point out. “Lunch is over.”

Jake shrugs. “Did you eat already?”