I scan the room again, but only see the usual faces. Paulina, a friend of my mother's that I've slept with a handful of times, gives me a blatant smile. I pretend like I don't see her. All I want to see is the waitress that wants nothing to do with me. And she's nowhere to be seen.
Alison
THE CRYSTAL CLINKS TOGETHER AS I drop the tray on the nearest surface. Gripping the edge of the table, my hands are shaking and I try to calm the thundering of my heart, ignoring the champagne that drips onto the floor.
I squeeze my eyes shut. It was like he was stripping me naked in front of everyone in the room. Like he was dissecting everything I was thinking, every risqué thought running through my mind. The way his clear green eyes held me like a bailiff, giving me no option to look away. And all of it done in such an unapologetic fashion that I had to leave before I made a total fool of myself.
The Mayor of Savannah is head-over-heels more intense in person than even I thought he'd be—and I had high expectations. Watching him give a speech on television or interact in news clips, he exudes this crazy mix of power and sexiness. But Barrett Landry in person? It's almost enough to make you high.
I grab a towel and wipe up the champagne, trying to catch my breath. My head is spinning, my blood pumping so wildly I feel like I might pass out.
I've got to get a grip.
Righting the overturned flutes, my breathing finally evens out.
His hooded eyes weren't darkened for me. They were to gain a vote or a fifteen-minute romp in the limo waiting out front. I know how these things work. None of that was for me.
Not for me.
Not. For. Me.
A hip bumps mine and I look up into the animated face of Lola. "I saw you!"
"Saw me what?"
"Getting all flirty with the mayor!"
"I was so not getting all flirty with the mayor,” I groan.
"I'm not blind, babe. But I am disappointed. I was waiting for the big moment! I was waiting for you to fall into him, for your hand to go to the side of his face . . .” She closes her eyes and sighs. "You missed an opportunity."
"I missed an opportunity to embarrass myself. Poor me." I roll my eyes and pick up another tray, this time a platter filled with canapés.
"For someone so fun, you're really not very fun when it counts," she huffs.
"What's Mr. Pickner say? We aren't here to have fun,” I intone. “I have work to do, Lo." I ignore her protests and head out of the kitchen. As soon as I step foot back into the Savannah Room, my elbow is snatched. I whip to the side to see Mr. Pickner guiding me off to the side.
The other servers flurry past us, giving me the side-eye. I'm not sure what I've done to be hauled off like this.
"Can I help you with something?" I ask, keeping my voice level.
"Have you forgotten the rules around here, Alison?"
"No, sir."
He tsks his tongue and releases my elbow. "I see and hear everything."
"Mr. Pickner, I have no idea what you're referring to, but I do have a tray that needs to be passed around the room. So if you'll excuse me . . .” I turn to leave, but his voice lets me know he's not done.
"It would serve you well to remember the contract you signed. You are to serve the guests and not engage them in conversation. You, Ms. Baker, are not a guest. You're not getting paid to entertain them. You're here to pass around appetizers, not yourself."
I whip around to face him head-on, my jaw slack. "Excuse me?"
"These people have nothing to say to you. If I catch you doing anything more than offering an appetizer, you'll be fired on the spot. Do you understand me?"
I open my mouth to respond, but my mouth feels lined with cotton. I want to tell him to take this plate of overly-priced smoked appetizers and shove them straight up hi
s ass, but I'm not given the chance.