I’ve become that girl. The kind I hate. The one who floats around with a ginormous smile stretched across her face, as if she’s privy to an inside joke no one else gets. The girl who says hi and makes eye contact with everyone she comes in contact with just to make sure she gets her I’m-happier-than-you point across. Yep. That’s me. And I’d slap myself stupid if I weren’t so damn happy about being that girl.
After feeding Cameron my famous French toast, we took a shower that could’ve drained the Hoover Dam. I had no concept of time as we got lost in exploring each other’s bodies, hands, lips, and tongues; we feasted until we were stuffed. I got to study every intricate tattoo, trace every sinew, and taste that V I admired the night before. Along with a lot more. My tummy tumbles at the memory, my skin still tingles from his touch, and my thighs ache from holding myself around him while he drove into me.
A long sigh falls from my lips. Yeah, I’m totally that girl.
I arrive at work a few minutes early to see who’s on the schedule and what the projections are for how busy the lunch rush will be. I’m prepared to beg for a shift, banking on tip money to get me through the week until payday. Flipping through reservations at the hostess stand, I’m sidetracked by the front door opening.
“Hey guys, we’re not open until—oh, Mr. Cavat.” I smile, all teeth and aching cheeks—owed to Cameron—at the two men who enter. My district manager. What’s he doing here? “What brings you by?”
He’s usually only here at the end of the year for tax purposes. The rest of the time he keeps his finger on the pulse of the restaurant through email.
“Ms. Dawson, this is Seth Gamboni.” He nods to the man at his side who’s dressed in a collared shirt and black slacks, more business casual in comparison to Cavat’s power suit and tie. We exchange hi-how-are-yas.
“Is everyone here?” Cavat swings his gaze around the restaurant.
Everyone? He’s here for the meeting? We have impromptu manager meetings from time to time, but the GM has never been a part of them.
I motion for them to follow me to a private room off the main dining space that we use for large parties. The three other managers are in there, waiting. I take a seat with them, assuming this is Cavat’s show.
He drops down in a chair at the end of the table and clears his throat. “Thank you for being here on such short notice.”
We all mumble a “no problem” and wait for him to continue.
“I’ll make this quick.” He flicks a hand toward Seth. “This is Seth Gamboni. He’s going to be here observing for the next week.”
Observing? What the fuck? I take a quick peek at the facial expressions of the other managers and see they must be having the same reaction.
“I’d like for him to work with each one of you closely. If he has questions, answer them. If he offends you, get over it. We’re doing an audit of every restaurant in the Nori family of restaurants, and it’s your turn.” He leans back in his chair, almost as if he’s waiting for a response.
We all sit silent.
“He’ll start today and be here every day on varying shifts until this time next week.”
Everyone nods.
“Questions?”
“Why an audit?” The words fly from my lips before I have a chance to bite down on them.
“Because I said so.” Cavat smiles, as if he thinks treating me like his kid is hysterical.
Asshole.
I shrug off his belittling. “No, I mean was there a complaint? Are there concerns about how things are being run?”
Cavat and Seth look at each other and then turn back to us.
Seth straightens his big, shiny watch. “Just keep doing what you’re doing, Ms. Dawson, and everything should be fine.”
My stomach drops. Why does the way he said that make me feel as if things are far from fine? I’ve been working here since high school, and I’m sure I haven’t always been the picture of employee perfection, but I always get the job done.
He covers a few more minor issues like new uniforms and a change to how we report our numbers before he finally dismisses us. As much as I’d hoped Cavat would leave, he ends up sticking around for lunch. I begged a few of the servers for their shifts, but go figure, with the presence of the GM, no one wanted to be labeled a slacker and take the day off.
Shit. My smile wiped clean from my face, I decide to go home and dig through old purses for money. With Seth in the restaurant all week, my chances of picking up a shift are minimal. Looks like those extra stubborn pounds I’ve been trying to shed will come off by involuntary starvation. I groan. Fabulous.
*
Cameron
Days have passed since I’ve seen Eve. Although we’ve talked on the phone a few times, it’s been brief, and my body’s beginning to register her absence. It’s not that I haven’t gone long stretches of time without female companionship. I have. But Eve’s like a habit I can’t break. No amount of time spent with her ever feels like enough, and mere memories of her sweet body have made me hard hours and even days after we’ve been together.