“Is that Beth Bennet?” Gigi asked, trying to see inside the kitchen where Beth was working.
“Yes, she works here,” I said as if it was no big deal. “Didn’t you see her here over the summer?”
Gigi shrugged. “I guess I didn’t notice. Why is she working?”
My dad snorted. “Why does anyone work? For money.”
“But she’s a Bennet. They don’t need money.”
My dad looked over his shoulder to where Beth was hauling a tray of dishes onto her shoulder and pushing open the kitchen door.
“Yeah, she does.”
“Why do you think that?” I asked. “She told me she took the job because she’s picking up conversational Spanish from other bus boys.”
My dad leaned back in his chair, patting his stomach, full from an average hamburger and barely warm fries.
“Son, you don’t do that kind of physical labor to learn conversational Spanish. If you’re rich you buy the Rosetta Stone, or some bullshit software program. That girl needs money and she’s hustling for it. Probably trying to impress management enough to let her wait tables. That’s where the real money is.”
“Oh my God, how embarrassing,” Gigi said.
“Why is that embarrassing?” I asked.
She looked at me like I was a dumbass. “Fitz, she knows all these families who are eating here. She has towaiton them and, like, ask for tips.”
“Princess, I love you, but you sure are a rich bitch snob.” Then my dad clapped his hands together and chuckled gleefully. “I love it. So what do we think happened to the Bennet fortune?”
“I know her dad’s been away,” I said, considering this new angle. That Bethneededto work. “He’s on a sabbatical.”
“Sabbatical,” my dad repeated. “Sounds like a fancy white word forgot shot of.”
“You think Mr. Bennet left his wife?”
It didn’t sound right. Divorce wasn’t common in Haddonfield. These families stayed together. Yet another privilege of money that you could afford to have things like vacation homes where people could go to get away from their spouses for a time. Or forever.
But that wasn’t the same thing as divorce.
“Don’t know. Not really my business anyway, I suppose. Why is it yours?”
“Because Fitz likes her,” Gi said with an evil smile.
“What?” I asked, my voice raising so that other diners turned in our direction. “I do not. I donot.”
“You’re always following her around and trying to get her to talk to you.” Gigi taunted me. “If you didn’t like her, why would you do that?”
“I’m not always following her around.” I turned to my dad. “She’s the competition. Academically in my grade. I keeps tabs on her just to see where I stand against her. That’s all.”
“Hmm. Well, okay then. Let’s hope she gets promoted soon because the service around here sucks. Son, go up to the bar and get me another Scotch and soda.”
“They won’t serve me. I’m underage.”
He gave me a pitying look as if to suggest I still didn’t understand things about the world I lived in.
“They’ll serve you. You tell them it’s for me. Javier is working the bar tonight. He’ll know.”
Javier? I didn’t need any more encouragement. I stood and moved through the dining tables to the far end of the room. The bar was long, built for two bartenders to work comfortably side by side. However, as there were no events tonight, it was only Javier and a bar back who were working it.
Of course, I knew who Javier was. I’d seen him on enough occasions and since Beth had mentioned his name, I made it a point to watch out for him when I could.
