Nodding my head, I tell her, “If you get anything, let me know.”
“Got it, boss.” With a mock salute, she turns and heads back inside the restaurant.
It’s basically morning by the time I crawl into bed. Between spying on everyone, disposing of Theo, and running through a fuck ton of nightmare scenarios, I’m fucking beat. It’d be nice if that meant I’d fall right to sleep, but that’s never the case anymore. Too much on my mind. Now I have even more weight on my shoulders than I did when I got out of bed this morning, and I thought I had a lot then.
I grab my phone off the night stand, opening my messages and looking at the ones Laurel sent me last. Her fucking dolphin emoji. I wonder if she’s awake? I wouldn’t text her first, not in the middle of the night like this anyway. Too great a chance Rafe would see it.
I close the messages and tap my saved pictures, pulling up the picture of Laurel by the water. The one Rafe sent me from their date—fucking asshole. I always warn his ass, and he never fucking listens to me. Don’t let Laurel get away if you want her, don’t test my fucking patience, don’t forget who brought your ass up to the level you’re on now, don’t fuck the waitress.
Trying to put Rafe and Laurel out of my mind, I plug the charger into my phone and roll over, hitting my pillow and closing my eyes, hoping I fall asleep before the sun comes up.
The next day is more of the same shit, but now that Gio has made me an offer, I’m on borrowed time, and I don’t know how much of it I have left.
I don’t know how I’m going to get all this shit done, and on top of all that, Virginia texts me from the restaurant. “I need to talk to you.”
“Is it important? Kinda busy,” I tell her.
“Yep. Meet me for dinner? I’m off in a half hour.”
Scowling at the phone, I send back, “I have to wine and dine you for information now?”
“I’ll buy, cheapskate. Let’s share a pizza though. I’m poor.”
The last thing I have time for is going out to eat, but I tell her to meet me at Giordano’s. I was supposed to talk to him last night anyway and I didn’t, so at least this way I can knock something off my to-do list.
When I get to Giordano’s and Virginia flashes me a smile and waves me over, I feel overwhelmingly uncomfortable—and not for any sane reason, like I have to be an asshole to a nice old man who makes good fucking pizza, or I don’t know what kind of information she has for me, but because I have the feeling Laurel would be pissed off if she knew I met another woman for something like dinner.
“What’s funny?” Virginia asks as I drop into the seat across from her.
“I’m fucked.”
Cocking a skeptical eyebrow, she asks, “That’s funny?”
“It’ll be all right.” I meet her gaze. “What have you got for me?”
“All right, so, bear with me because this is going to get weird. Last night you piqued my curiosity with my mission.”
“Occasionally a good thing,” I remark, though since I’m straddling the line of loyalty right now, I wonder if this is one of them.
Virginia is like a dog with a bone when I give her anything to do, so I try to only use her sporadically. She doesn’t work for us in any official capacity outside of being Rafe’s waitress. Literally Rafe’s waitress—he only goes to the restaurant on days she’s working—says he likes the way she takes care of him. Rafe is the least habitual person I have ever met in my life, so that he is so set in
his routine with Virginia is an oddity, but I get it. I don’t like people, and I like Virginia. Of course, I like her because she’s not just free labor; she’s a sure fucking thing. I don’t think he’s ever fucked her, so I don’t think he likes her for the same reason.
When I wanted to collapse Ben’s empire and weed out the unshakably loyal, I couldn’t use my men in every situation. I used Virginia to fill in the blanks. I think she’s some kind of genius—not the stuffy sort Laurel probably reads books by, but anything I tell her to do, if she doesn’t know how, she can figure out and master like she wrote the manual herself.
Rafe would be pissed if he knew how many times I’ve used his waitress to do illegal shit—and her law school probably wouldn’t be too psyched, either—but sometimes you’ve gotta do what you gotta do. Virginia would do anything for Rafe—not because she has some lame crush like all these other girls, but because she actually cares about the guy. I don’t know why, she never gave me the story and I didn’t ask, but her actions over the years—while simultaneously serving an endless string of disposable women who go home with him afterward—have made that pretty clear. I don’t think she’s waiting around on him to notice her, I think she’s just his loyal subject, and she doesn’t ask for anything in return.
Resourceful, smart, and loyal—yes, I’ll take her help. Well, usually. Right now I’m switching sides, and I might actually have to worry about Virginia. She doesn’t know how to fire a gun right now, but give her a weekend and the knowledge that I plan to hurt Rafe, not only will she be able to fire one, she’ll be able to build one from paperclips or some crazy shit.
So, if she already started looking into this on her own, it’s possible she brought me here to ferret out whether or not I’m planning to turn on Rafe, and if I am, she’ll kill me with some kind of lethal weapon she forged from bobby pins on her lunch break. Then later she’ll feign horror and sympathy for Laurel while she’s feeding her and Rafe dinner tonight.
Why do all the women in Rafe’s life have to be some kind of crazy?
“Okay, so, I decided to investigate Marlena today, poke at her while I trained her hopeless ass.” Switching to a ridiculous old timey detective accent, she plucks an imaginary cigar off the table and holds it between her fingers. “I put the screws to her, see.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Don’t do what you’re doing. Not in my presence.”
“God, you’re no fun. I don’t know why Laurel likes you.”