boss taps Zach’s shoulder.
Zach gives the man a knowing nod before his gaze returns to me. “Sorry, Gen. Talk later?”
“Yeah, sure.” I scribble the name of the construction company on my ordering pad. It couldn’t hurt to talk to them. I’m trying to not think about what other guys are participating with Zach this year, but I’m afraid I already know one of them.
Prepared to hurry back, I turn—and freeze, my hand flying to my chest. Maryanne stands two feet away and I’m in her section. She was nice last night with the Drake situation, but I don’t want to push my luck. Casino waitresses are highly territorial. I scan for a discreet escape route.
Before I make a run for it, a loud, nasally, “Hi, Snoooww,” blares from behind.
Amber.
Amber stops a few feet away to talk to a change clerk—and to take in the fireworks she set off.
Maryanne glances between me and Amber, her expression puzzled. She has every right to chew me out for being here. Instead, she snaps back to hyper-multitasking mode: empty glass sweep, napkin placement, drink dispersion.
What? No set-down?
Not sticking around to question it. I move into the lane—
“Hold up, Snow.” Maryanne smiles at her customer as he hands her a tip. “You can have my tables at ten,” she says over her shoulder. “I need to leave early.”
Wait— what ? She’s offering the tables that pour in a shitload of tips? To me? Not one of the senior girls?
I take too long to respond, because Maryanne faces me, her expression pure exasperation. “Do you want ’em or not?”
“Yes. Of course. Thank you,” I say in stunted English.
I glance at Amber, who has paused in her conversation to gape at Maryanne. She snaps her mouth shut and walks over. “Uh, Maryanne, I can cover for you.” Her head twitches awkwardly as if she’s trying to refrain from cocking it like a pissed-off bird. She looks down at me, even though I’m several inches taller. “I have more seniority than Snow.”
Maryanne counts her cash and winks at another customer. “Thanks, but Gen’s got it.” She speeds off, her short legs pumping in her Payless Shoe Source heels—the same ones I’m wearing.
Amber’s mouth purses and she glares at me before storming off to Mont Belle Lounge.
That was—I don’t even know what. Unbelievable? Brilliant?
Maryanne was the first waitress to haze me with the Snow White nickname. Now she’s calling me Gen and giving me her tables? And putting Amber in her place …
Wow. Just—wow.
“She said that? Maryanne? ” Nessa stares in disbelief after I relay the events.
“I can get someone else to cover her section if you think you’ll need me here tonight.” The bachelor party is rowdier than when I left. I don’t want to leave Nessa in the lurch, even if good tips are singing to me.
She shakes her head and waves me off. “I’ve got this.”
I pull in a few hundred dollars working Maryanne’s blackjack tables that night—my best score to date.
Let’s hope my luck holds in the race. There is a five-thousand-dollar pot with various lesser winnings. I’ll be lucky to finish the mudder, but if by some miracle I won something, it would go a long way toward building self-confidence and financial independence.
Chapter Ten
Half the businesses in Lake Tahoe use the word chalet in their title, even the rundown places. Cali and I dubbed our cabin, with its corrugated roof and seventies brown carpet, the chalet in honor of the outdated chalet strip malls. The Pinecone Chalet Business Center housing Sallee Construction doesn’t conform. The architecture has a log cabin feel, the building new and well-constructed.
Cali hasn’t returned from her mom’s and she’s ignoring my text messages. The truth about her ex came out wrong. This has gone on too long. I feel terrible and wish she’d talk to me.
I’m thinking about Cali and how to fix things when I push open the glass door to Sallee Construction.
A receptionist in a light green
Zach gives the man a knowing nod before his gaze returns to me. “Sorry, Gen. Talk later?”
“Yeah, sure.” I scribble the name of the construction company on my ordering pad. It couldn’t hurt to talk to them. I’m trying to not think about what other guys are participating with Zach this year, but I’m afraid I already know one of them.
Prepared to hurry back, I turn—and freeze, my hand flying to my chest. Maryanne stands two feet away and I’m in her section. She was nice last night with the Drake situation, but I don’t want to push my luck. Casino waitresses are highly territorial. I scan for a discreet escape route.
Before I make a run for it, a loud, nasally, “Hi, Snoooww,” blares from behind.
Amber.
Amber stops a few feet away to talk to a change clerk—and to take in the fireworks she set off.
Maryanne glances between me and Amber, her expression puzzled. She has every right to chew me out for being here. Instead, she snaps back to hyper-multitasking mode: empty glass sweep, napkin placement, drink dispersion.
What? No set-down?
Not sticking around to question it. I move into the lane—
“Hold up, Snow.” Maryanne smiles at her customer as he hands her a tip. “You can have my tables at ten,” she says over her shoulder. “I need to leave early.”
Wait— what ? She’s offering the tables that pour in a shitload of tips? To me? Not one of the senior girls?
I take too long to respond, because Maryanne faces me, her expression pure exasperation. “Do you want ’em or not?”
“Yes. Of course. Thank you,” I say in stunted English.
I glance at Amber, who has paused in her conversation to gape at Maryanne. She snaps her mouth shut and walks over. “Uh, Maryanne, I can cover for you.” Her head twitches awkwardly as if she’s trying to refrain from cocking it like a pissed-off bird. She looks down at me, even though I’m several inches taller. “I have more seniority than Snow.”
Maryanne counts her cash and winks at another customer. “Thanks, but Gen’s got it.” She speeds off, her short legs pumping in her Payless Shoe Source heels—the same ones I’m wearing.
Amber’s mouth purses and she glares at me before storming off to Mont Belle Lounge.
That was—I don’t even know what. Unbelievable? Brilliant?
Maryanne was the first waitress to haze me with the Snow White nickname. Now she’s calling me Gen and giving me her tables? And putting Amber in her place …
Wow. Just—wow.
“She said that? Maryanne? ” Nessa stares in disbelief after I relay the events.
“I can get someone else to cover her section if you think you’ll need me here tonight.” The bachelor party is rowdier than when I left. I don’t want to leave Nessa in the lurch, even if good tips are singing to me.
She shakes her head and waves me off. “I’ve got this.”
I pull in a few hundred dollars working Maryanne’s blackjack tables that night—my best score to date.
Let’s hope my luck holds in the race. There is a five-thousand-dollar pot with various lesser winnings. I’ll be lucky to finish the mudder, but if by some miracle I won something, it would go a long way toward building self-confidence and financial independence.
Chapter Ten
Half the businesses in Lake Tahoe use the word chalet in their title, even the rundown places. Cali and I dubbed our cabin, with its corrugated roof and seventies brown carpet, the chalet in honor of the outdated chalet strip malls. The Pinecone Chalet Business Center housing Sallee Construction doesn’t conform. The architecture has a log cabin feel, the building new and well-constructed.
Cali hasn’t returned from her mom’s and she’s ignoring my text messages. The truth about her ex came out wrong. This has gone on too long. I feel terrible and wish she’d talk to me.
I’m thinking about Cali and how to fix things when I push open the glass door to Sallee Construction.
A receptionist in a light green
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