Page 30 of Wreckin' Amethyst

“Good morning fellas,” I force a smile. Charley is directly behind, sourcing a glass and a bottle of apple cider vinegar for me. She knows my hangover cure. Popping a Tylenol, I down a shot of vinegar, much to everyone’s clear disgust. Well, all except Carter, who refuses to look up and note the perfect job Charley did in recreating my eyebrows. I’ll need her to bring over her brow stamps and pencils every day until my natural ones grow back. Sebby slips from his stool first, rounding to my side and leaning on the counter with his back to his friends.

“I can’t believe you actually put it on,” he flicks the edge of the maid’s skirt. I keep Myles out of my eyeline, not wanting to see his reaction to mine and Sebby’s familiarity. I wonder if Myles told him about the name-screaming situation, but I doubt Sebby would approach me so brazenly if he had.

“Carter removed all the other clothes before waking me up,” I shrug. The other Elites file in, also in knee-high stockings, frilly black-and-white outfits with criss-cross lace detail in the bodice. My chest fills out the white fabric cups more than the rest, as well as the flare of my hips causing the skirt to stick out further. That’s what a life of cheesecake for breakfast and giving no fucks gets you.

“Now we’re all present,” Carter folds his paper and addresses the entire room with the old man persona he’s perfected. “Since the calendar was mysteriously wiped clean, I’ll inform you all on the events of today. We have two candidates from the interviews arriving shortly for their audition day, and clearly Charley is here also,” Carter’s lips tighten into a firm line.

“There’s a business function at my head office this evening which you will all be catering and serving at. Work out amongst yourselves the details, for sixty-five guests. We need vegan and gluten free alternatives for seven of them. When the applicants arrive, show them the ropes. As always, your collective feedback,” he points a finger to the four standing off to one side, “will determine if they make it to the final stage.”

I crack a smile. Trying to withhold the bubble of laughter breaking free of my lips. Carter’s green gaze swings to me for the first time, brimming with hatred.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing,” I attempt to lie but the laughter pours more freely now. Ahh, screw it. “It’s just the whole big bad gangster routine when I’ve just realized, you’re no more than a glorified PA.” Gripping my side, I fall into hysterics, turning to leave the room. Hands clamp down on my shoulders, spinning and shoving me into the closest wall. The vein in Carter’s temple throbs, his jaw tight enough for the strong line to tease my imagination.

“Not so fast. I have a special task for you Amethyst. We have clients flying over from England for this function as we speak and they’re made requests for the menu. You’re on tart duty.” My laughter fizzles out and I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes. “I believe it’s British slang for a whore.”

“Yes, I got the reference, thanks.” I shove against Carter’s chest. So this is my punishment. Losing my eyebrows and spending the day tottering about in heels, my cheeks coated in flour and playing out every man’s homemaker fantasy. Peering over his shoulder, I note Myles has his nose back in his book.

I’m in the doghouse, and had I not felt like I owed it to Myles to grovel some, I’d leave. As it stands, I’ve let my own issues stand between us, even after he's extended his help and not expected anything in return. For that reason, I’ll take Carter’s taunting. Whatever it takes to repay the debt I now feel I owe Myles, whilst keeping him at arm’s length and getting a grip on what the hell I’m doing with my life.

Moving back into the main kitchen, I switch on the oven and steal Owen’s tablet from his hands. This bitch doesn’t know the first thing about baking, but there’s never been a skill I haven’t excelled at. Switching on the radio, I crank the music up and tune out the gawking eyes all around. Let’s make some of the best tarts this kitchen has ever seen.

***

“Something smells good,” Owen enters the room, inhaling deeply. Pig awakens from where she’s been lounging by the back door and rushes to greet him. The boys have returned from wherever they’ve been all day, suits crumpled and heading in different directions. Myles doesn’t look my way as he walks towards the stairs, although Sebby gives a sympathetic wave.

“You bet your ass it does,” I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand. While the Elites spent the day demonstrating Carter’s standards to the newbies, Charley included, I’ve busted out one-hundred-and-forty-four summer fruit tarts. Owen reaches for one of the small pastry cups and I swiftly smack him around the head with an oven glove. I haven’t been slaving away all day for nothing. When Amethyst puts her mind to something, she does it right. A trait I might mix up for the next persona because trust me, that shit is exhausting.

“Carter said something about seeing you in the office,” Owen mumbles, more focused on picking up Pig and scratching her belly. He wanders away, lost to her kisses while I grapple for the last shred of my patience. Somehow, someway, I’m going to find a valid reason to add Carter to my kill list.

Taking my sweet time to arrange the tarts in containers for transporting, I’m out of ways to stall and resign to dragging my bare feet across the marble flooring. Screw cooking and wearing heels all day when no one is around to care. Entering the office keycode he has yet to change, I walk straight into Carter’s office.

“How the hell-” Carter shoots up from behind the desk, his phone pressed to his ear. “Gina, I’ll call you back.”

“Gina? Lady friend of yours?” I smirk. I can’t imagine it’s a fun job but someone must be pulling the stick out of Carter’s ass every now and then.

“My mother,” he scrunches his nose slightly and purses his lips. Yikes – that’s a touchy subject. Pushing my hip against the sideboard, I roll my hand in a ‘get-the-fuck-on-with-it’ gesture. Straightening his suit, Carter rounds the room to close the door and pulls a chair out for me. “Sit down. It’s time we had a real discussion about your time here. Namely, how much longer you’re staying.”

“Sounds like a question for your boss. I didn’t want to come in the first place.” I drop down, crossing my legs. I wince at the contact pressing against the bruise, but keep my face casual. Unlike Carter, whose green gaze is drawn to where the maid’s skirt rides up and gives a hint of the hot, pink thong he provided. A calculated move or general uniform code – I’m yet to decide.

“Myles is myfriend, and he isn’t saying much of anything right now. I suppose I should thank you, because whatever you did last night has finally stopped him from obsessing over you.” Carter lowers into his huge leather chair, resting his elbows on the desk. He doesn’t even try to hide his smirk. Inspecting my nails, I slowly lick the length of my top lip.

“Be that as it may…now I’m here, I think I’ll stick around a while longer.” His smirk drops, slips across the desk between us and takes residence on my face instead. Another one of Amethyst’s best traits - unaltered stubbornness.

“For what possible reason?” Carter gapes, pushing his dark brown hair back into place.

“A few actually. To see Charley through this ridiculous hiring process, to give Sebby someone close by who actually understands him. Mostly because I know it will piss you off so much, you’ll be hate-fucking your hand each night picturing my face.” Outrage contorts his harshly beautiful face, a series of cursing on his lips when his phone vibrates. Taking it from his pocket, he’s halfway through aggressively tapping out a message when a clatter and scream sounds from the kitchen. I merely sit there, watching the car crash of emotion take charge of Carter. For someone so controlled and calculated, he sure needs to work on masking his emotions. It’s almost too easy to enjoy.

“I swear you radiate fucking chaos wherever you go,” he points at me harshly, pocketing his phone and storming around the room, “and for your information – I understand Sebby better than anyone.” Taking advantage of his suit jacket flapping wildly, I pick Carter’s pocket when he passes and shrink into the seat. Carter’s shouting trails through the manor, allowing me to pinpoint his location while I flick through his unlocked phone. Pulling up his messages with Craig, the limo driver, I note tonight’s event is at 7pm. The Elites are to take the food via the limo while the boys drive separately. Or rather – that was the plan.

Shooting Craig a quick amendment, I delete the message for Carter and place the phone on his side of the desk. Then I’m rushing up to Sebby’s room to change, considering there’s no clothes in mine. He doesn’t ask questions, keeping watch on the limo pulling up outside. The Elites do the hard work for me, loading the trunk with a whole day’s worth of catering prep before heading off to get themselves ready for the function. Opting for board shorts and a baggy t-shirt, I halt in front of the mirror and frown.

“Nah – too Avril,” I sigh.

“Avril?” Sebby asks, eyes widening as I find a large pair of scissors in a drawer filled with random shit.

“Yeah, the skatergirl I was back in my early twenties. You know the best way to attract a pedophile? Look like jailbait.”

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