“Nessa and Zach still work there too. I wouldn’t be alone,” I say.
Zach met Nessa when she first started working at Blue, and she’s slowly become a part of the gang. She’s even a regular at Zach’s taco dinner nights. Nessa and I aren’t close, but we’ve hung out a few times.
Gen props her head on her hand, her elbow on the kitchen island. “You know, there might be other jobs. Have you looked everywhere?”
“I’ve looked, but this is Lake Tahoe. Other than the casinos, there’s not much that pays well for someone with only a high-school diploma.”
She gives me a sympathetic nod. “I’ll give Maryanne a heads-up. See if she can do anything to get you in.” She blinks, forehead furrowing as if she’s having second thoughts.
“That’d be great,” I say before she can change her mind.
I grab a sliced apple from the appetizer dish and shove it in my mouth, frowning as I chew. I rely on a heavy dose of junk food from the Sallee pantry. Becky’s health kick is like a forced diet.
Gen shakes her head at the appetizer plate and returns to hunting the cupboards. She pulls down a bag of rice crackers. Not the most promising processed food, but better than fruits and vegetables.
I grab a cracker from the bag. “So you don’t think it will be weird if Maryanne puts in a good reference for me? Upstairs suits and floor employees work in parallel at my casino, not so much together.”
And that’s another thing. I put feelers out with a few people at work. They said it wasn’t likely the casino would allow me to keep my job if I decide to work at another casino. Some kind of conflict of interest. I’m going to try to pull strings, but it doesn’t look good.
“Nah,” Gen says, opening the fridge and rummaging around in one of the bins. “Maryanne’s badass. She manages the floor waitresses, but she’s also influential upstairs. I think management is afraid of her.” Gen pauses. “She’s kind of scary. Totally hazed me when I first got there.” Returning her attention to the bin, she says, “I’m not sure what changed. Could have been the Drake thing, but she’s shown a different side and now we’re friends.” Gen reaches deep into the fridge, her face brightening as she pulls out something wrapped in plastic. She slaps it on the island.
My eyes light up at the half-eaten block of cheese. I’ve scoured this kitchen high and low for days with nary a sign of trans fats. Gen’s putting in serious time at the Sallees’ if she knows where to find fatty stashes I’m not even aware of.
“I like Maryanne,” Gen continues. “She reminds me of Cali and Tyler’s mom. No-nonsense and down-to-earth. Just don’t get on her bad side.”
I’ve always wondered what Tyler’s mom was like. That Gen knows and I don’t is another reminder of the distance between me and Tyler. We may live together, but that doesn’t mean we are close.
And I don’t know why that makes me sad, but it does.
Gen hands me the slice of cheese I’m ogling. “If anyone can get balls rolling, it’s Maryanne.”
Chapter Fourteen
A week later, I realize Maryanne doesn’t just have pull at Blue, she’s a rock star. She put in a good word for me about the assistant position, and I received a call back, which is a miracle when I think about it. The job description for the assistant to the human resources director doesn’t state it, but candidates typically have college degrees, or at least prior experience in the field, and I have neither.
I pretended I didn’t want to go to college when the Sallees offered to pay, because I wasn’t sure I could do it. The only time I felt book smart was when Tyler helped me with math in school, and I chalked that up to his tutelage.
Using a lint roller Cali left behind, I swipe the black pencil skirt and white blouse Gen lent me for the interview this morning. I own black heels, so I didn’t need to borrow those, not that I’d fit in Gen’s shoes. She’s slender, but tall. The skirt is a little big in the waist and hips, and I had to roll the sleeves of the blouse, but the outfit works. My size-six feet in Gen’s size-eight heels would not.
I arrange my hair three different ways this morning: a ponytail, a bun, a French twist, each one so not me and worse than the last. I’m trying too hard, and I worry that the minute I walk into Blue, people will recognize me for the fraud I am. Somehow, I have to get through this interview and prove against all the odds that I belong.
I pull out the pins from my latest hair disaster and settle for it parted to the side and hanging down my back in waves. Same way I always wear it. If you can’t be true to yourself, who can you be true to? Might as well begin with your hair.
I walk out of the bedroom and Tyler is at the kitchen table typing on his computer. He’s shirtless, his hair sticking up on one side—basically, early-morning hot.
I groan internally. It’s the worst torture to have the one thing I ever sought for myself dangled in front of my face. Close, yet infinitely out of reach.
Even if I could have Tyler physically, as he seems to have turned into this manwhore, I’ve always wanted more with him. That was the problem.
Despite my threat, Tyler brought a different girl home every night this week, the asshole. I don’t know how long the girls stayed or what he did with them. I didn’t want to know. I closed myself off in my room, earbuds in my ears, blocking it out of self-preservation. I’m trying to numb myself to Tyler. I could keep to my threat and bring home dates. I’ve not ruled it out. I’m just busy, that’s all.
Tyler looks up and does a doubletake. His gaze takes in my outfit appreciatively, until his eyebrows pull together in suspicion. “Where’re you headed?”
“You really think that’s your business?” I grab my black purse that has a little too much wear for the outfit, but whatever.
“Yes. I’m keeping your secrets, aren’t I?”
I stare incredulously. Was he always this manipulative? He used to be so sweet and accommodating.
