Page 24 of Falling for Them
As soon as she’s gone, I pick up my desk phone and hit the button for Joel’s office.“You’re seeing the maid, right?”
“Yes, Dad,” he says with a sigh.“It’s not against policy.I checked with HR, and—”
“That’s not it.Did you break up with her?Have a fight?”
“Did I—what?What are you talking about?She’s just a maid.”
“She’s sad.Talk to her.”
“The fuck?”
I can picture him staring at his phone.I have never, not once, gotten involved in any of his relationships.
“Do it,” I say.
He huffs an aggrieved sigh.“Yeah, okay.”
Eight
Ella
Bartleby’s is the kind of pub where people go to have a quiet meal and maybe throw back a few drinks.It’s not rough.The owner keeps a pretty tight rein on the clientele, making sure they treat the waitstaff right.
Which is why I notice the four guys at table thirty-nine who stare so hard at me.People don’t harass the servers here.It’s not normal.
It’s also not my table, so not my problem.Or at least, that’s what I’m telling myself.
But all the servers here at Bartleby’s help each other out, and it isn’t long before Natasha rushes past the bar.“I have to pee so damn bad.Food just came up for thirty-nine, will you bring it out?”
“Sure,” I say, trying not to wince.I don’t want to go anywhere near those guys.
This is just my luck, though.It’s been a couple of days, and I haven’t been able to reach Joel to tell him I can’t go to the gala.To be honest, I haven’t been trying that hard.I haven’t felt up to it, and I haven’t felt strong.Just thinking about Tommy’s betrayal has me tearing up.What the hell happened to our relationship?He and I used to be so close, and after Dad died last year, I thought we’d get closer, because we’re the only family we have left.
But nope.
On top of him stealing from me, I now don’t get to go to the Tyler Gala, and it was the one bright, indulgent thing I had to look forward to.
Now I’m miserable while serving food and drinks at Bartleby’s, and freaking out when these men look at me wrong.
They haven’t ordered much, just a plate of onion rings to soak up their beer, probably.I carry it over with a neutral expression on my face.I don’t want them to know they’re freaking me out.
“Here are your onion rings,” I say, setting down the plate.
One of them grunts in acknowledgment.
His buddy says, “Hey, wait a minute.Do you know Tom Marchand?”
I know better than to answer honestly.Tommy doesn’t have a knack for making friends.In fact, he mostly makes enemies.The other night when he showed up at my apartment, his face beaten to hamburger, is a prime example of that.
“Sorry, no,” I say.
He squints at me, skepticism on his face.He doesn’t believe me.
Shit.I don’t know who these guys are or what they might want, but I need to start being more careful if Tommy is pissing off more people.
“Are you waiting for him?”I say quickly.“I can ask my boss if anyone has left a message for you.”
“That won’t be necessary,” another guy says, his voice gruff.
