uniform right?”
“Yes, please.”
Zach surveyed me, his gaze lingering on my hips before moving up to my chest. I was about to say something indignant, when he spoke again. “Size four, right?”
“Um, yeah. How did you know that?”
“It’s a gift.” Zach winked at me. “I was probably a gay fashion designer in a past life.”
Everything about him was so overwhelmingly masculine and physically dominant that I couldn’t quite imagine that. I must have made some sort of disbelieving sound because he grinned at me.
“Or I just spend too much time looking at woman’s bodies.”
“That, I believe.”
The look he gave me was so frankly sexual that the breath caught in my throat.
Cheeks flaming, I reached around to open my backpack and searched for something to break the sensual spell he tried to cast. “I have my own pants.”
He stuck his hands in his pockets and gave me a crooked smile. “Changing area is behind those curtains. The shirts are on a rack to the right, just find your size. Hurry back, because we’re still prepping plates.”
“Okay…thanks.”
“One more thing,” he said, before I could walk away. “A bunch of us are going out for drinks when this thing is done. You should come.”
“I’ll think about it.”
I walked away while I still had the chance, my heart beating hard.
It wasn’t until I was back in the dressing area and flipping hurriedly through the racks of starched tuxedo shirts, that I realized something.
While talking to Zach and for the first time since I left the Dollhouse, I hadn’t been thinking about Julian.
* * *
I ’d forgotten how much easier it was to work a catering gig than to actually wait tables in a restaurant. All I had to do was say “chicken or fish” in as unobtrusive a way as possible and remember to serve from the left. I might as well have been a brain-dead monkey in a penguin suit.
“Is this free-range chicken?” A socialite dripping in gaudy jewelry and makeup that was too heavy asked me.
“Of course, miss,” I said, though for all I knew it was the same chicken that you could buy at the Fresh Market in Englewood. “Would you like pepper?”
Once dinner was served, most of the waitstaff returned behind the doors with just a few staying in the ballroom to keep drinks refilled.
Zach appeared at my shoulder. “We have a few minutes. Come grab a smoke.”
I didn’t smoke but I’d been working in food service long enough to recognize a free break when I saw one. I followed him out the back door, which was propped open with a brick, where a group of people were sitting on milk crates.
“This is Dalea,” Zach said, his hand touching my back in a way that was too possessive.
I shook his hand off and stepped away a little. “Hi.”
If he noticed me putting additional space between us, Zach ignored it. “Dalea, this is Collette, Jason, Molly and Aeryn.”
Aeryn, a short, redheaded girl with a crooked smile, leaned forward and held out a pack of cigarettes. “Want a smoke?”
I hesitated for a beat too long and one of the girls — Collette, I think — broke in with a cheeky grin. “We have something stronger, if you want that.”
“No, thank you.” I had never done any drugs, not even during the year and a half that I spent in college. I wasn’t about to start now with a bunch of perfect strangers.
I took a seat on an egg crate and Zach took the one next to me, close enough that his knee brushed my thigh. I deliberately picked up the crate and scooted it to the side, pretending not to see his knowing smile.
“So what’s your deal, new girl?” Jason, the only other guy, asked me as he lit his cigarette. “We don’t see many new faces. What brings you uptown?”
“I normally work at a diner, but I needed some extra cash. A girl that I used to go to school with told me they needed more waiters for tonight.” I shrugged uncomfortably, not happy with being the center of attention. “So here I am.”
“What
“Yes, please.”
Zach surveyed me, his gaze lingering on my hips before moving up to my chest. I was about to say something indignant, when he spoke again. “Size four, right?”
“Um, yeah. How did you know that?”
“It’s a gift.” Zach winked at me. “I was probably a gay fashion designer in a past life.”
Everything about him was so overwhelmingly masculine and physically dominant that I couldn’t quite imagine that. I must have made some sort of disbelieving sound because he grinned at me.
“Or I just spend too much time looking at woman’s bodies.”
“That, I believe.”
The look he gave me was so frankly sexual that the breath caught in my throat.
Cheeks flaming, I reached around to open my backpack and searched for something to break the sensual spell he tried to cast. “I have my own pants.”
He stuck his hands in his pockets and gave me a crooked smile. “Changing area is behind those curtains. The shirts are on a rack to the right, just find your size. Hurry back, because we’re still prepping plates.”
“Okay…thanks.”
“One more thing,” he said, before I could walk away. “A bunch of us are going out for drinks when this thing is done. You should come.”
“I’ll think about it.”
I walked away while I still had the chance, my heart beating hard.
It wasn’t until I was back in the dressing area and flipping hurriedly through the racks of starched tuxedo shirts, that I realized something.
While talking to Zach and for the first time since I left the Dollhouse, I hadn’t been thinking about Julian.
* * *
I ’d forgotten how much easier it was to work a catering gig than to actually wait tables in a restaurant. All I had to do was say “chicken or fish” in as unobtrusive a way as possible and remember to serve from the left. I might as well have been a brain-dead monkey in a penguin suit.
“Is this free-range chicken?” A socialite dripping in gaudy jewelry and makeup that was too heavy asked me.
“Of course, miss,” I said, though for all I knew it was the same chicken that you could buy at the Fresh Market in Englewood. “Would you like pepper?”
Once dinner was served, most of the waitstaff returned behind the doors with just a few staying in the ballroom to keep drinks refilled.
Zach appeared at my shoulder. “We have a few minutes. Come grab a smoke.”
I didn’t smoke but I’d been working in food service long enough to recognize a free break when I saw one. I followed him out the back door, which was propped open with a brick, where a group of people were sitting on milk crates.
“This is Dalea,” Zach said, his hand touching my back in a way that was too possessive.
I shook his hand off and stepped away a little. “Hi.”
If he noticed me putting additional space between us, Zach ignored it. “Dalea, this is Collette, Jason, Molly and Aeryn.”
Aeryn, a short, redheaded girl with a crooked smile, leaned forward and held out a pack of cigarettes. “Want a smoke?”
I hesitated for a beat too long and one of the girls — Collette, I think — broke in with a cheeky grin. “We have something stronger, if you want that.”
“No, thank you.” I had never done any drugs, not even during the year and a half that I spent in college. I wasn’t about to start now with a bunch of perfect strangers.
I took a seat on an egg crate and Zach took the one next to me, close enough that his knee brushed my thigh. I deliberately picked up the crate and scooted it to the side, pretending not to see his knowing smile.
“So what’s your deal, new girl?” Jason, the only other guy, asked me as he lit his cigarette. “We don’t see many new faces. What brings you uptown?”
“I normally work at a diner, but I needed some extra cash. A girl that I used to go to school with told me they needed more waiters for tonight.” I shrugged uncomfortably, not happy with being the center of attention. “So here I am.”
“What
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