Page 7 of Muerte

“Oh, that was smart,” Anya replied, jubilantly, gently elbowing me in the side.

Her perception of that tidbit of information was the total opposite of mine.

“You can never be too careful with events like this, which is why for privacy reasons there’s an NDA that will need to be signed and no employee is permitted to have their phones once inside, but that’s no different than usual for you girlies,” Shana hastily explained.

“An NDA for what exactly?”

Her walkie came to life again before I got an answer, this time with someone from maintenance requesting assistance. She sighed and all but shoved the two large bags into Anya’s arms.

“Here, these should fit you two. Go put them on and then meet me back here in ten minutes tops so I can explain what needs doing and have you fill in the paperwork.”

As soon as she was gone, I turned towards Anya to plead my case on why this wasn’t a good idea. The spot I expected her to be was empty. She was already hurrying away to get changed.

“Come on, Lo,” she tossed over her shoulder.

“Wait!”

She pretended not to hear me and kept walking. I followed, intent on convincing her we shouldn’t get involved in whatever this trade show gig was.

“Anya, I know you heard me.”

She finally stopped and turned around. “I was hoping you’d just go along with it. Should’ve known better.”

“And you should also know this is a disaster waiting to happen.”

“How so?”

“Our kind of serving experience is for 24-hour mom and pop diners, not fancy dinner shows.”

“I don’t see what the difference would be.”

“Anya,” I huffed, “serving dino nuggets and fries isn’t comparable to this and you know it. I never had to sign an NDA for a pancake platter.”

Selectively ignoring me, she turned and thrust one of the garment bags into my gut so that she could unzip the other. I clasped the shiny plastic with a grunt, scowling when she revealed the dress inside.

“What is that supposed to be?”

“It’s gorgeous,” she awed, tugging, and pulling until it was free.

“That doesn’t look like a uniform.”

“Yes, it does. We have to dress the part.”

I surveyed the little black number and grew more determined to get out of this. That thing would be like a second skin and show more chest than my workout bra did.

“I’m not participating.”

Seeing how serious I was, she quickly adopted a new attitude. “Why are you so against this, Lo? What’s wrong?”

“I just…I don’t know. It feels like something is going to happen if we go in there. I can’t explain why.”

She quirked one of her perfectly threaded brows. “Repeat that back to yourself. Does it make sense?”

“Not really, no but that doesn’t change how I feel.”

She reached out and gently clasped my upper arm. “It’s just one night, Lo. A few hours at that. At least try for me and if you really hate it, we can make up an excuse to leave. Deal?”

“Do you really need me here for this? I can always come and pick you up when you’re done.”

---