Eileen Wilks – Expecting...And In Danger (страница 2)

It didn’t work. He kept pace with her. “Don’t trip over your ego, sister. I’m not hitting on you. Don’t care for teeny, tiny blondes with big mouths.” He shook his head. “You sure talk fancy for someone who works at the Hole.”

Her unwanted escort had a pleasant tenor voice with surprising resonance. “Do you sing?”

He gave her a startled glance. “Why?”

She sighed. Most of the time she managed to keep her unruly tongue under control, but every now and then it flew free. “I wasn’t hitting on you, either. I don’t care for bossy males. Your voice reminded me of a tenor I heard sing ‘Ness’un Dorma.’”

“You listen to opera, but you work at Hole-in-the-Wall?”

“You recognize an aria from Turandot, but you poke holes in your body?”

“Smart-mouthed, too,” he observed. “Why you working at the Hole?”

“For my sins.” Which was all too literally true. But she was going to get things straightened out soon, she promised herself for the fortieth time. Somehow.

They’d arrived at the steps that led down to the kitchen. She thanked her escort as politely as she could manage, hobbled down and pushed the door open.

The kitchen was a long, narrow, crowded room. The cook, a stringy old man with limited notions of personal hygiene, gave her a sour look. “Better get moving. Zeno’s in a bad mood.”

“How can you tell?”

He snorted. “You go right ahead and smart off to him today like you been doin’. You’ll see.” He went back to flipping hamburger patties.

Charlotte hobbled to the cubbyhole where employees could leave their things. Dammit, she really did need to mind her tongue. She needed this job, and the Hole—for all its obvious drawbacks—did have three things in its favor. First, it was within walking distance of the cupboard-size apartment she’d found. Second, Zeno was allergic to cigarette smoke, so the entire place was smoke-free. Third, he was sloppy about paperwork and regulations—a definite drawback in terms of health and safety regulations, but a plus for her personally. He hadn’t called any of the bogus references she’d listed on her application, and he didn’t question her social security card—a good thing, since the number wasn’t hers.

A man who was running a bookie operation out of his restaurant really ought to be more scrupulous about following the rules in his legitimate business, she thought as she slung her backpack under the table. She pulled off her coat, giving the shabby, shapeless brown material a look of distaste as she hung it on a hook. Best not to think about the beautiful new cream-colored wool coat hanging in the closet in her apartment—her old apartment.

The rent was paid up until the first. They won’t have sold her things yet, she told herself. Maybe she would still be able to get them back.

“You’re late,” a deep voice growled from the doorway. “Shift starts at five, not whenever you get around to showing up.”

She jumped, scowled and looked at the doorway. Zeno stood there glowering at her. He was a man who could glower well. The paunch, thick eyebrows and bristly jowls gave him a head start in the mean-and-nasty sweepstakes.

Watch what you say, she reminded herself, and reached for the dusty first aid box on the top shelf. “A car nearly ran me down at the light.”

“Late’s late. It happens again, you’re out of here.”

“I would have been a lot later if the car had hit me.” She gave the cap on the peroxide bottle an angry twist. “And yes, I’m all right, thank you so much for asking.”

“If you’re all right, you can get your butt out there and take orders.”

“As soon as I’ve wiped the blood off. I’m pretty sure it’s a health code violation for me to bleed on the customers.” Stop that, she told herself. Zeno was not the kind of tyrant who admired those who stood up to him. He preferred quivering timidity. She pressed her lips together and began to clean the long scrape on her calf.

“Maybe I didn’t explain when I hired you. I hate attitude. What I like is ‘yes, sir, no, sir, right away, sir.’ Got that, you stupid— What the hell do you want?” He turned on the waitress who’d come up behind him, a doe-eyed young woman named Nikki—“with two k’s and an i,” she’d told Charlotte when they were introduced. Like Charlotte, she was blond. All of Zeno’s waitresses were blond. Nikki was the kind the jokes were made for, though.

“Mr. Jones wants to talk to you,” Nikki said nervously. “Table twelve.”

“Why the hell didn’t you say so? And you, Madame Attitude—” he jabbed a thick finger in her direction “—you’ve got five minutes to get out on the floor, or you’re fired.”

She tried to make herself say “yes, sir,” but the words wouldn’t come out. She’d said them to her former boss a thousand times, said them easily, naturally. Because he was a man who deserved her respect. Her throat closed up. Grant Connelly wouldn’t care about her respect. Not now. Not after what she’d done.

She managed to nod stiffly. Zeno gave her one last glare and stomped off. Charlotte threw the bloody swab in the trash.

“What happened to you, anyway?” Nikki asked, her eyes big.

“I had a little accident on the way here. Stand in the doorway so no one comes in, would you?” She had no doubt Zeno had meant what he said about firing her if she wasn’t on the floor in five minutes. Her panty hose would have to come off right here. Charlotte grimaced, but accepted necessity.

Nikki obligingly stood in the center of the narrow doorway while Charlotte took off her shoes, then reached up under her skirt to pull down the ruined panty hose. Her legs were going to freeze on the walk back to her overpriced cupboard when her shift was over…but cold legs were the least of her problems.

“Zeno’s sure on a tear. You’d better put your apron on.”

“It’s pink.” She pitched the panty hose in the trash, fumbled her shoes on and grabbed her order book. “I don’t do pink.”

“We’re supposed to wear the aprons.”

“I know.” Nikki wasn’t a bad sort—a bit dim, and with all the backbone of cotton candy, but nice enough. Charlotte found a smile for her. “Come on, let’s get on the floor before I’m fired.” She moved out into the kitchen, Nikki trailing behind.

“I guess you’re worried that the baby will show if you tie the apron around your waist, huh?”

She froze. “I don’t… What are you talking about?”

“Oh, c’mon. I mean, you’re not showing much, but there’s that little bulge, isn’t there? And when Serena sneaks a smoke in the kitchen, you turn green. My sister Adrienne was the same way when she was carrying my nephew.”

Charlotte got her breath back, but couldn’t make herself turn around. “Zeno’s allergic to cigarette smoke, and I’m pretty sure he isn’t pregnant.”

Nikki giggled. “If he was, he’d be having triplets, wouldn’t he? How far along are you?”

Sighing, Charlotte turned around. Her cover had been blown by a pink apron. “Five months. Please, if Zeno finds out, he’ll—”

“As if I would! Tell Zeno? What kind of person do you think I am?”

“Sorry. I can’t help worrying. I need this job.”

“Then we’d better get moving.” Nikki gave her a gentle shove and they headed for the stairs at the back of the kitchen. The restaurant’s seating was on ground level, the kitchen in the basement. She’d be going up and down those steps a hundred times tonight.

“I guess it’s scary when you’re on your own,” Nikki said. “Did the father walk out on you?”

Was flying to the other side of the country the same as walking out? Maybe not, since he didn’t know about the baby. All at once Charlotte was dead tired. Everything was wrong, and she couldn’t seem to make any of it come right again.

Not everything, she reminded herself. At least she knew Brad was safe. Probably. As long as no one knew where he was. “We shouldn’t talk about this here,” she said. “Maybe you won’t say anything, but if someone overheard…”

“Like that Serena.” She nodded, making her platinum curls bob. “She’d split on you in a second. Good thing she never looks past her mirror.”

Charlotte pushed open the swinging door. “True. Which station do I have tonight?”

“Four. Serena’s on two, I’ve got one, and—hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She hoped. “The tall guy with the shaved head and Cubs cap in my station. The one talking on a cell phone. Have you seen him in here before?”

Nikki cocked her head. “Don’t think so. Why?”

Idiot. Why had she told him where she worked? “He said he didn’t like teensy blondes,” she muttered.

“Who, that guy? He’s kinda cute.” She cocked her head and smiled. “Maybe he likes tall blondes.”

Had it been coincidence that he’d been there when the car nearly ran her down? He’d seemed nice, in a rude sort of way. But he’d insisted on walking with her, and now here he was…. Panic flared. She didn’t know what to do, whether she should run or stay. Charlotte took a deep breath.

She had her backpack. If she had to—if he seemed too interested, or acted funny—she could be out the back door in a flash. “Want to swap stations? You could find out if he likes tall blondes better than dinky ones like me.”

For the next half hour she tried to keep busy. But her nerves were jumping, and each minute jerked into the next in a painfully slow way. Her admirer—if that’s what he was—didn’t make any effort to talk to her. So why was he here? He wasn’t a regular, and he hadn’t spoken to Zeno, so he wasn’t here to bet on the horses, or whatever.