Embracing Ellie (K&S Securities 3)

I make a sympathetic sound, but inside my mind is reeling with happiness for my friend, Twins! Before I can respond she continues.

“It’s not like I want to go out looking like this anyway,” She motions to the multicolored bruises on her face with a disgruntled look. “Might scare small children.”

I snort-laugh and quickly slap a hand over my mouth to stifle my giggles. I hope I don’t offend her. “Sorry,” I gasp. “This is a casino. There are no kids here. Not many anyway.”

Faye laughs too, making me feel better about my inappropriate mirth. “Good point,” she says, “I didn’t think of that. It’s still probably better if I keep a low profile until I look less like a swamp monster and more like a person again.”

I don’t even try to contain my laughter this time, “You look like a very pretty swamp monster, if that’s any consolation.”

“I like you Ellie,” she snickers, ushering me further inside with my cleaning supplies, “I will like you even more if you will give me something to do so I don’t die of boredom.” She sighs dramatically. I don’t know what happened that left her in such bad shape, but she is amazing! I think I’d be huddled in my bed feeling sorry for myself if I was as beat up as she is.

“I know you’re wondering what happened to me.”

I shrug, attempting to act casual, like I hadn’t literally just been thinking that, “It’s none of my business.”

“That’s ok, I’ve got nothing to hide. I got kidnapped by some bad people, then an even worse one got ahold of me and…” she motions to herself again, but seriously this time. “This was the result. I’m lucky to be alive. Thank God Travis found me when he did, or who knows what would have happened.”

Her smile fades for the first time since I’ve seen her. Seeking to help I reach out a careful hand and I touch her arm lightly, “But he did, and you are okay. Mostly anyway, right?”

She nods and pulls her composure back in place along with her smile. “Okay!” She claps her hands together once, “Let’s grab a couple sodas out of the fridge and get to work.”

I know that I should argue and refuse to let her help, but it’s nice to be with someone close to my own age who is easy to be around. Most of the women I work with are either much older or are my age and all wrapped up in the party scene the city has to offer. I’m not interested in clubbing. I have too many obligations to waste time and money that way.

The small kitchen is already spotless when I join her at the small grey-tiled counter dividing the kitchen area from the rest of the small apartment. I can’t help but look around, wondering what I’m actually going to need to clean. I know Faye notices my observation because she chuckles as she hands me a can of diet cola and motions for me to follow her to the tidy sitting room. The TV is on playing a music station almost inaudibly in the background.

“There’s not much to do. I’ve sort of already done it all,” she admits, “but I do want to put clean sheets on the bed, and we need fresh towels and stuff for the bathroom.

Quickly, I set my cold can on the coffee table and move toward the door.

“Not right now, silly. Let’s chat for a few minutes before you go get everything.” Nodding, I sit down where she indicates and pick up my can, popping the top and taking a small sip. We had to stop buying them when Lizzie got home because once she starts drinking them it’s hard to get her to stop.

“This is so good. It’s been a while since I’ve had one.” I don’t know why I blurt it out, but I do, then I wait nervously to see if Faye thinks I’m weird.

“I’ve hardly had soda since I was sixteen,” she tells me. “Special occasions only.” She smiles like we are sharing a secret and it makes me feel good. Like this counts as a special occasion.

“That long?” I ask. She nods. Before I can wonder if it would be an overreach to ask why she answers my unspoken question.

“I was pretty poor, and the place I waited tables at was cheap. They let us have a sandwich or something small, but we were limited to water or the toxic coffee if we didn’t want to pay for a drink out of our tips or wages. I needed my money, so I drank water.”

“I would have too,” I tell her. Taking a chance, I continue, “My sister was in a bad car accident about two years ago. She suffered a traumatic brain injury that makes it hard for her to have good impulse control and she likes soda. A lot. So we had to stop bringing it into the house.”

“Oh, that’s terrible.” She says, and it sounds like she means it. “Couldn’t you have it here?”

“It is what it is. Most days are fine, just different than they were before, and drinking it at work when we don’t allow her to just feels… unfair. So I don’t.” Even though I’m the one who brought it up I don’t want to talk about it anymore, so I take another sip of my beverage to fill the small silence. When I set the can down our conversation moves to lighter topics, mostly what it’s like to grow up in a wild city like Las Vegas. Not that I have had any experience with the wild side of Las Vegas living. Faye lived in a suburban neighborhood in New York until she was a teenager and then she was on her own. She doesn’t give much detail. I guess we both have things that we’d rather not talk about.

After a little while I start to feel guilty. I’m being paid to work right now, not talk with Mr. Cerelli’s guests. Rising to my feet I tell Faye, “I’ll be right back. I’m going to go get some linens.” She stands with me, her hand pressing against her side with a wince, and picks up our empty cans and carries them to the kitchen, placing them in the recycling bin under the sink.

Opening the door on my way to the linen room, I’m startled by Blake stepping through the door directly across the hall. His eyes are focused on the phone in his hand. He doesn’t see me until I take a step backward into the apartment, trying to hide from him. He looks up, slipping his phone into the pocket of his jeans and turning the full power of his brilliant smile in my direction.

“Ellie.” He booms, his eyes crinkling up at the corners, “Fancy meeting you here.”

I don’t know why, but I get the feeling that somehow, he knew exactly where I was.

“Hello.” I offer, dropping my gaze to the glossy wood flooring under my feet, trying to ignore him as I hurry past him on my way to the housekeeping room at the end of the hall.

“You up here working?” I can hear the good humor in his voice. It’s nice. He’s not being mean, just teasing me a little, I think.

“Yes. Faye asked for clean towels and sheets, so I’m getting them for her.” I reply.