Page 116 of Ruining Vanessa

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve been here, but I haven’t forgotten just how little the girls care for me. There’s Elena, who sold me out and who’s been giving me strange looks ever since. Traci and Cat don’t waste an opportunity to say nasty comments. The others… are less obviously hateful, but I can feel the distance.

Nobody wants to get close to the boss’s broodmare.

I wipe at my eyes and decide I can still make myself useful around here though. Maybe mopping or scrubbing some tables will distract me. I head toward the bar, where I can already hear some people talking.

It’s Paul and the bartender Jenna. She’s not in her work outfit yet, so she’s wearing jeans and a baggy t-shirt. Paul looks the same as ever.

“Oh, fucking hell. Why are you here?” Paul asks when he spots me.

I shrug, hoping my eyes aren’t as red as they feel. “Going to meet with Giulio and Slayer later. But I thought I’d help out while I was waiting?”

“Please,” Jenna says, motioning at some cleaning supplies. “Paul’s fucking useless.”

“Fuck off.” Paul puffs himself up. “I’m the boss around here, I don’t do the menial shit.”

“You’re not even close to being the boss,” I say as I grab a spray bottle. “There’s Giulio, then Damien, then Donny… and then there’s you, although Damien’s been trusting me a lot more with things.” I feel self-conscious throwing in that last part, but it makes Jenna giggle and Paul’s face go red.

“Yeah, we all know why Damien’s into you. His little broodmare. Fucking Giulio’s such a cuck, letting other men fuck his whore,” Paul snaps.

If he thinks that’s going to offend me, well… I’ve been called much worse. And Giulio got off on role plays where Damien fucked his “wife” more than once, so I doubt he’d care either. Still, it annoys me that he feels like he can say those things about us, and I don’t even understand why I care.

“I dare you to say that to Giulio’s face,” Jenna mocks. “Or just go see what Damien thinks about it, if you’re too pussy to say it to Giulio.”

Paul’s face only gets redder. “Fuck both of you, whores.” He storms out of the kitchen.

Jenna rolls her eyes. “Fucking manbaby. Anyway, if you could wipe down the bar counter and all the bottles while I start slicing up a few lemons, that’d help me out.”

“Sure,” I tell her, starting to spray down the counter. It’s nice to have something to do with my hands, to get my thoughts away from the tadpole—and from Giulio and Damien, too.

I’ve just finished wiping down the first section when a knock sounds on the back door.

Jenna glances over at it. “Can you get that? It’s probably just the delivery guy.”

My heart thunders in my chest. I keep having opportunities to try to run, to try to ask for help, but… I know better. What if the next person they hurt is Jenna? I like her, and she’s always decent to me. “Sure,” I say, my voice sounding distant to my ears.

I open the door to see a man standing there next to a dolly full of cases of beer.

Barely glancing at me, he offers me the clipboard. “Here’s the beer delivery. Just sign at the bottom.”

He sounds almost bored, but I guess this isn’t his first or his last stop for the day. I take the clipboard and pen.

“Is Paul out today?” the delivery guy asks.

“Yeah. I’m just filling in.” I sign my name at the bottom—Vanessa Bellini, not Vanessa Pavone like at the doctor’s office—and notice the subtotal. I frown at the number. “Did you guys give us a discount?”

“Huh? I dunno. Should be the same as always.” He takes the clipboard back and hands me a copy of the invoice.

He rolls the delivery inside and I follow a bit absently, not really paying attention to what Jenna says to him. He’s deposited the boxes soon enough, fast due to constant practice. “See you next week. Hope it’s you again. You’re way easier on the eyes than Paul.”

“Y-yeah,” I say, too distracted to deal with his comment as I stare at the number on the receipt. The paper looks identical to the ones I’ve received, but the number is almost a hundred dollars lower than usual.

“Is Paul always the one to sign for this?” I ask Jenna. She’s already unloading some of the beer bottles to where they belong.

“Huh? Yeah. That’s like, his one duty he takes seriously.” She snorts. “He’s gonna be pissed he missed out just because he was being a little bitch.”

I’m going to have to compare, but suddenly everything is making sense. It wasn’t the girls skimming. It was Paul, changing the cost for the supplies—making it look like they were higher, so he could pocket the difference. Even going so far as to falsify the receipts.

How long has he been doing this?

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