Page 66 of Howl You Doin?
I bite my lip as I lift my phone above my head, praying I don’t look like an overstuffed sausage trying to duckface, and take another selfie. I put up a peace sign and take a few more pictures for good measure. Bombarding the man with nudes should do the trick if all else fails.
Desperate times call for desperate measures. Connor has found every opportunity to graze my boob or caress any part of me he can.
I’m ashamed to say it’s taken me so long to catch on. He’s so subtle about it, catching me unaware, and usually when we are around other people.
The gloves are coming off, Mr. Connor O’Doyle.
I hurry upstairs to get changed into my costume, feeling equally determined and ridiculous as I lift the heavy dress andbend my body into it. Forcing my breasts to almost spill out of the corset contraption, for once I’m happy about how tightly it cinches my waist.
I pin my hair in place, a simple loose bun just tight enough to keep the small hat in place and apply a suitable amount of makeup that matches the cream-colored dress and the tiny, embroidered flowers that are all over it. The petticoat underneath makes me feel like an overblown princess.
After I figured out how to get dressed, I found it wasn’t so bad since we only have to wear our costumes once or twice a week. Frederick was ecstatic he didn’t have to change the design except for a better-fitting corset. The only thing I think is funny is the little white cap that I’ve deemed the Mrs. Potts hat.
Once I’m dressed, I go back down to the bottom level and step into the dining room, quickly scanning my gaze over the table covered with appetizers ready to go out at the start of the show. I look down at my phone to check the time, and notice we only have a few minutes before we begin. Oops, I cut it a little too close.
It looks like Connor hired all the village men because Anton stands in one corner with a group of gentlemen. Well, they all look like gentlemen anyway. Tuxedos up to their throats, and all with matching dark-red ties.
Anton waves when I meet his gaze, and I turn to Maria.
“Are the cupcakes ready?” she asks me.
I nod and smile.
Connor, after the first week, figured out quickly that he wasn’t going to be able to handle the entire menu. I managed to sneak in a few surprises for dessert.
The whole dinner is on a timetable. We do one dance, set down the appetizers for the guests as we do, and then the maids and waiters wait by the wall until the next bell rings.
It’s literally like something out of a historical novel I read once and makes me wonder where they came up with the idea. I’ve been picturing “Be Our Guest” fromBeauty and the Beast, but with human servers, and I love how corny the idea is.
“Everyone ready?” the lead organizer calls out to the room. He smiles, and his eyes gleam with excitement when everyone murmurs that they’re ready to start the procession.
As I enter after my cue, I can’t help taking in the ballroom and how they’ve decorated it.
Fog, dense and heavy, curls across the wide space, making it impossible to see the white-and-black marble floor I know to be there. People begin to ooh and ahh as the waiters and maids come out of the thick mist dressed like something out of a demented Victorian play. The skeletal-shaped animatronic moves at the edge of the room and an obvious mechanical cackle of glee echoes from a speaker somewhere on the thing, causing startled shrieks to reverberate from the guests.
Another plastic skeleton, this one tied to a rope and pulley, drops from the ceiling overhead while a light display bathes its black shroud in an eerie red glow. I bite my lip to hide my grin when I notice George gasp and lean back in his dining chair to get away as it glides past him and around the room.
After so many rehearsals with the things, it’s hard to find them as scary, especially after seeing them in the daylight looking like crappy Halloween decorations riding a Roomba. The ting of metal clanking erupts around the room as we all place the appetizer platters on the tables and remove the heavy lids while the animatronics move in reverse back to their places.
First, the men carry out the larger trays and the maids follow with the side dishes and soups. The whole show happens pretty quickly, everyone only popping up for a few minutes at a time in each course, but it’s a lot of movement. I grip my tray with my palm spread wide, holding it easily after practicing. I place mysmall plate of bruschetta in front of the people who ordered it specifically, while everyone else handles their own dish type.
I make my way out the door and everyone rushes to collect our trays of dinner and line up again, waiting on our turns to enter the ballroom.
Except I don’t do that.
No. Instead, it’s time for my show.
Sliding my hand down into my skirt apron, I grab my phone and send off my first message: a photo of my lace-covered ass cheek and boob spillage. My stomach flutters with glee at the knowledge that he’s not going to be able to do anything about it.
I just pray he’s not too busy with the event and actually checks his phone like he always does. Connor never misses a text or a call in case it’s important.
I can already hear him exclaiming dramatically in an over-the-top Dracula voice, performing to the guests. From memory, his outfit is a black suit, a draping cloak with a high collar, and fake vampire fangs that kind of make him look like a terrible Halloween costume.
Now that I’ve started my devious scheme, I move to grab my designated plates and fill my serving tray. When I finally take my spot to wait on my next call, my heart is stammering in my throat with how nervous and excited I am at what I sent Connor.
The smell of the rustic potatoes paired with sour cream has my mouth watering. Even though I’m not the chef, since they hired a bunch of catering staff for the event, I’ve had a taste of everything and know it is all delicious. The jealousy flooding my veins for the food is real, but my tastebuds are still satisfied at having a sample.
Connor’s strong voice can be heard telling everyone to enjoy their dinner. It’s the cue for the guys to roll in with the big plates, while I hold one of the sides.
