Lucky Penny (20 page)

Mary was on point tonight. She usually left things to Tara or a girl named Felicia, but West Lake was one of Mary’s biggest clients and she couldn’t afford to have any slip-ups. I felt the usual flutter of nerves in my stomach but quickly shook them off. This was a good gig. Sure, I had to mingle with high society, but aside from the occasional piranhas like Brittany, the majority of people we served didn’t pay us any attention. We were invisible; there to serve and not be seen or heard. It suited me.

“You’re early.” Tara met me at the kitchen entrance and stepped aside to let me through. “Mary’s inside getting herself worked up. It’s not like we haven’t done this kind of thing before.”

I had a strange relationship with Tara. Ever since that first shift when she had warned me about Brittany and her friends, she’d kind of taken me under her wing without really befriending me.

Mary was pacing when I entered the kitchen. She looked up and her eyes sparkled. “Ahh, at last someone who knows what they’re doing. Penny, can you go over the order of service again please with Milly and Natasha.”

Me?
I looked at her with wide eyes.

“You might be new, but you’re one of my best girls. Now, don’t just stand there. Get over here and whip these two into shape.”

Milly and Natasha grimaced, and I half-smiled at them trying to reassure them. Mary was overwhelming. Like a mother who found it hard to let go but wanted her children to fly on their own all at the same time.

I spent the next ten minutes talking Milly and Natasha through the order of service. The gala was a five-course, sit-down meal followed by a silent table auction. West Lake had hired some B-list television personality to emcee the whole event. Touch of Class, Mary’s company, was to provide drinks and food service for the evening.

Mary’s words lingered in the back of my mind and a sense of pride took root in my chest. Despite my rocky start at the Hyatt, I liked working for Touch of Class. I’d come a long way since my days of hiding behind the scenes and pot washing in a hotel kitchen, and I was eager to work my first black tie event. The dresses, the glitz and glamour, I was intrigued—and maybe even a little excited—to experience a world so very different from my own.

And then Tara delivered four little words that left me with a sour taste in my mouth and a sinking feeling in my stomach.

“The piranhas are here.”

I heard them before I saw them. The high octave of their laughter got louder as I worked my section of the room, offering guests flutes of champagne. I smiled and only spoke when spoken to. My back must have been to them because while I could hear their cackles and conversation, I couldn’t spot them in the crowded room.

“… he won’t be able to resist tonight.” I wasn’t purposely eavesdropping; they were that damn loud. Another voice said, “Do you think he’s getting cold feet? It all happened pretty quickly?”

“Not really, Jenna. We both knew this was coming. Our fathers had this all planned out, and, besides, we’re perfect for each other.”

I swept around the group I’d just finished serving, and my eyes spotted them against the wall. Brittany Arnold and her minions. I had run into them at more than one event—the piranhas. According to Tara, her family was from old money, born and bred in Upper Arlington. Trent Arnold, Brittany’s father, was CEO of Arnold Holdings.

“Oh look, it’s Penelope.” Brittany’s voice dripped with contempt, but I let it roll off me.

Mostly.

My eyes caught the huge rock on her ring finger, and I shuddered inwardly. Who could possibly love someone like her? I had yet to witness one redeeming quality in her. Sure, she was beautiful and never looked less than runway worthy, but beneath all that makeup and money was a cold-hearted bitch.

Feeling riled, I bit out, “It’s Penny, actually.” I immediately regretted it, and in an attempt to recover my slip, I plastered on a fake smile and said, “Champagne?”

If there was one thing I’d learned quickly during my time working for Touch of Class, it was that you didn’t correct these people.

The girls each helped themselves to a glass while Brittany’s eyes burned into me as I tried to look anywhere but at her.

“My mistake, Penny. I just love what you’ve done with your hair. It’s very, what do you call it? Trailer-chic.”

My heart thudded in my chest.
How dare you,
I wanted to say. But I’d lose more than just my cool if I did. So I simply smiled and turned to leave. Brittany had other plans. She stepped to the side effectively blocking my passage. I tried to veer around her, but she stuck out her foot just as I moved. I felt myself fall. The silver tray clattered to the floor, glass shattering everywhere. All heads turned to me as I landed in a heap, my cheeks a deep crimson. I heard the gasps and low whispers, but only one voice perforated my embarrassment. “You really should watch where you watch step, Penelope.”

Tara rushed over to me, handing her tray to one of the other servers. “Are you okay?” Her eyes flitted over my head to where Brittany and her friends stood.

I gave her a terse nod, embarrassment still weighing heavy in my chest. “Yeah, I’m fine. Help me get this mess cleaned up?”

“Ladies and gentleman, dinner will now be served. Please move into the Arlington Suite,” a voice said, and I breathed a sigh of relief. The guests started to move away from us, queueing to enter the suite where they would spend the evening dining and donating. Brittany muttered something about how pathetic we were before joining the queue.

“What a freaking bitch,” Tara said in a low voice when everyone was out of earshot.

I pushed myself up to my feet and blew out a long breath. “She tripped me.”

“Oh, I know exactly what she did. She tried the same thing with me on my first shift. Come on, let’s get this cleaned up. I’ll sneak up a glass of West Lake’s finest when we’re done. Before the real fun starts.”

True to her word, Tara swiped us two leftover champagne flutes and made me drink it before giving me a breath mint. “Sometimes, all you need is alcohol,” she joked. “Feel ready to face them again?”

I shrugged. What choice did I have?

“Don’t let them beat you, remember? Hold your head high and plaster the biggest, fakest smile on that pretty face of yours. If it weren’t for us, half of the people out there would starve. They need us.”

Her speech made me smile weakly, and although it was the biggest pile of utter crap I’d ever heard, it did make me feel a little better. Besides, I’d met worse than Brittany Arnold.

Survived worse.

“I’ll swap sections with you. I’ll take the piranhas tonight.”

“No, I got it. It’s fine. You’re right.”

Tara hopped down off the counter in the back of the kitchen and smoothed down her uniform. “Okay, let’s do this.”

We lined up with the rest of the servers at the service counter. The chefs were busy putting the final touches on the first course while bellowing orders at us. How to present the dish to the guests, to make sure the shrimp tail faces away. I rolled my eyes when Tara glanced back at me and grinned. When it was my turn, I loaded two small plates on my left arm, picked up another with my right, and followed Annabel, one of the regulars, out the door and into the dining room. Golds and royal blue, the colors of West Lake and Associates, embellished the whole room. I’d never met Mr. West, but some of the girls had worked his functions before. By all accounts, he was a formidable man and demanded nothing but the best.

I veered off to the left and entered my section, tables six through ten. Brittany sat at table six, my first stop. I inhaled deeply and approached her table. She looked up and smirked, but I ignored her and placed the plate down in front of the person seated opposite her. An older woman with gray-blond hair swept up in a sleek chignon sat to her right, and there were two empty seats to her right.
Odd
, I thought to myself, but I served the appetizers starting with the person seated next to one of the empty seats. It was petty, but it meant I would serve Brittany last. My small sense of payback.

I returned to the kitchen and collected three more plates. When I arrived back at table six, I had to clear my throat to be heard over the gaggle. “Will the other guests be joining us?”

“My fiancé and father will be here shortly. Please leave their appetizers.” Brittany’s bark was worse than her bite, and I tipped my head.

As I walked back to the kitchen, I glanced back at table six.

And stopped dead.

Two men were approaching the table. One, an older man with graying hair, was obviously her father. He had Brittany’s eyes. Her evil smirk. He sat in the empty seat furthest from his daughter. The other man leaned over Brittany’s shoulder, smiled at everyone, and pressed a brief kiss to her cheek. Her whole face lit up. He sat down. I wanted to sink to the floor. Wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. I wanted to throw things at her face. To hurt her for far more than just choosing to make my life as a server hell.

She had the one thing I wanted but could never have.

She had Blake.

“P
enny, Penny.” Someone shook me forcefully, but my eyes were transfixed on table six.

On Blake and her.

Brittany Arnold was Blake’s fiancée.

His person was the piranha.

“Penny, what the hell has gotten into you?” Tara barked with such bite that I jumped. “Huh, what?” I blinked at her and then turned my attention back to Blake.

And her.

Her.

“Sorry, I’m fine. Fine.” My voice sounded anything but fine.

“Whatever you say,” Tara said. “Can you still do your job?”

“Yes, yes, I can do my job. I’m fine,” I reiterated as I tried to convince us both.

Tara mumbled something under her breath and rolled her eyes. I didn’t take it personally; it was just her way. Besides, I was too concerned with how close Blake and Brittany looked.

Mary breezed into the kitchen beaming. “Fabulous job, darlings. Tara, you handle cleanup, and Sophie, you take point on the second course.” Her eyes landed on me, and her smile faltered. “Penny, is everything okay? You look a little pale, darling. You’re not getting sick are you? Mr. Weston would be most concerned if you’re spreading germs to half of the city.”

Weston?

As in Blake Weston?

My lips drew into a tight line, and I forced them into a half-smile. “I’m fine, just a little tired. Noisy neighbors.” I shrugged as if it was no big deal. It was almost the truth.

Mary’s perfect smile was back in place in an instance. “Well then, shall we?” She gave Tara a curt nod and disappeared out of the kitchen.

I grabbed Tara by the arm sharply. “She said Mr. Weston? I thought it was Mr. West?”

“He’s the West in West Lake and Associates, but his actual name is Weston, as in, Anthony Weston.”

Blake’s uncle was Anthony Weston, of West Lake and Associates? My stomach knotted tightly and then unraveled as it plummeted to the floor.

Tara’s dark eyes narrowed at me. “Why all the questions?”

“Nothing, I, hmm, I, nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

She huffed. “Well, if you’re finished getting your period, can we go do our jobs now?”