The woman arched a brow at me, scanning down my body once before returning her sharp stare to my eyes. I knew without the aid of a mirror that I looked frazzled. Most of my blonde hair had fallen out of my ponytail and there was definitely blood running down my shin. Still, her sourpuss stare didn’t affect me. I could see right through her fake tan and eyelash extensions. Her smoky eye shadow was caked on so thick I was surprised she could even manage to lift her eyelids. Women like her didn’t faze me. Why? Because they were predictable, almost like they were playing a part they’d seen on daytime TV.
I held my ground and crossed my arms. The message was clear: your move.
I would have stayed like that until she went to retrieve Zoe, but luck was on my side. A moment later, a brunette woman with a short pixie cut rounded the corner into the foyer like she was on a mission. She glanced from the hostess to me, and then back again.
“Crystal, what the hell are you doing? We don’t pay you to stand there with resting bitch face.”
I resisted the urge to laugh.
Crystal rolled her eyes, but held her tongue. I watched her grab a clipboard off the podium and huff away in a cloud of perfume and glitter.
When she was out of earshot, the pixie-cut woman turned her attention to me.
“Please tell me you aren’t Lily.”
My confidence faltered.
“Zoe?” I asked, wiping my sweaty palm on the side of my dress.
She ran her hand down her cheek.
“No. No. This won’t work out,” she said, shaking her head.
“What? Why?” She hadn’t even given me five minutes to prove myself.
She glared at me, waving her hand out in front of her. “Because the last thing we need in this restaurant is another fucking Barbie doll.”
Chapter Two
Lily
I knew what Zoe saw when she looked at me. I could sense her disdain. Within five seconds of meeting me, she’d already lumped me in with the Crystals of the world. How wrong she was.
She crossed her toned arms and I scanned over the colorful tattoos running from her shoulders to her elbows.
“Give me a chance to prove myself,” I said, holding my ground.
She pursed her lips. “Listen, you’re not the first girl to come in here with a face that could kill, though yours looks like the first pair of natural lips I’ve seen in a decade. What’s your angle? You want to be an actress? Model? You want to find yourself a sugar daddy to fund your stay in the city?”
I let her barbs glance off and narrowed my eyes on her. It made sense, really. Zoe’s job was to manage a wait staff made up of self-absorbed sociopaths. Why would she want to add one more to the mix? Lucky for her, I wasn’t a sociopath, and I was only somewhat self-absorbed.
“Where’s your bar?” I asked, ignoring her line of questioning.
She tilted her head, confused.
Fine. I didn’t need her help. I could already glimpse the main bar in the restaurant, tucked against the sidewall. There were two guys working behind it, moving like cyclones trying to fill orders as fast as possible. The setup would be simple—bars aren't rocket science. After I’d finished up culinary school and a two-semester bartending program, I’d landed a job working at a dive bar one town over from mine. No big deal, right? Wrong. New York yuppies had nothing on a bunch of burly Texans. They wanted their drinks, and they wanted them yesterday.
I moved past Zoe without another word and bee-lined for the bar. It was hard to navigate through the crowd, especially as they clumped together, trying to get the bartender’s attention. I pushed through them, using elbows and sheer force when needed.
The bar came up to my stomach and there wasn’t an entrance in sight, but I didn’t let that stop me. I tossed my purse over onto the ground and then pushed myself up onto the black marble countertop.
“What are you doing?” one of the bartenders yelled as I swung my legs over the bar.
“Finishing up my job interview,” I threw back, not bothering with any more explanation. My feet landed with a thud on the black rubber mat and then I turned back to the crowd. Half a dozen people were staring back at me with shocked expressions. I let them gather their wits as I washed my hands and reached for a spare drink shaker.
The other bartender waltzed over, his male-model looks completely wasted on me. I had a thing about guys who spent more time in the powder room than I did.
“You can’t be back here,” he said, trying to reach for the drink shaker in my hand.
I pulled it out of his grasp and smiled.
“I’m here on special order from Zoe,” I lied, only somewhat.
His mouth dropped and I turned back to the crowd, bored with him already.
“You.” I pointed at the petite girl in front of me. She had a fifty-dollar bill tucked in her hand and was being crushed by the crowd pushing in behind her. “What are you drinking?”
She stared back and forth between me and the other bartender, unsure of whether she was allowed to answer me.
The bartender threw his hands up and walked away. “I don’t get paid enough for this shit.”
I smirked as I stared at the girl, waiting for her to reply.
“Uh, okay. I need two dirty martinis and a gin fizz,” she stammered.
Easy.