A week later at Percolate, Cynthia walked into the break room, huffing mad. “Jesus. If Fred tells me one more time to smile at those goddamn customers, I will shove a bottle of caramel syrup into his mouth. I don’t care if he is the new manager. I know my goddamn job.”
Kate grinned. “Be patient with the newbies.”
“Says the other newbie.” Cynthia grabbed a copy of the local paper and thumbed through it while Kate had her egg salad sandwich on nutritionally-poor white bread.
To hell with gluten-free. Since seeing Liam, her emotions had been all over the place, and she’d eaten whatever the hell she’d goddamn wanted. If someone offered a Twinkie/bacon sandwich, she’d wolf it down and ask for seconds.
“Wow,” Cynthia said, laying the newspaper on the table. “He really did it.”
“Who did what?”
“You know,” she said, snapping her tattooed fingers, searching for a name. “Hot stuff who owns those casinos. Liam Boyle.”
What? “Doyle. It’s Liam Doyle.”
“That’s it!”
“What’s he done, Cynthia?”
She peered at Kate. “Where’ve you been? It’s been all over the local headlines.”
“What. Has. He. Done?”
“He’s sold all his casinos.” Cynthia made a face. “Fuck me, Kate. You’re in a weird mood. Weirder than usual.”
Kate felt all the blood drain from her face. “What?”
“Hadn’t you heard? He’s been talking to some rich Russian who owns those hot new clubs in New York, Champagne and Liberty. I think he’s Russian. I would totally let that dude fuck me, too.”
As Cynthia prattled on about rumors of Markov being connected to the Russian mob, Kate dropped her sandwich and pushed away from the table.
“Shit. You look like you’ve seen Amy Winehouse’s ghost.”
She stood and whipped off her apron, looking around nervously. “Can you tell Fred I can’t finish my shift? There’s something I have to do.”
“Sure thing, spaz lady. I’ll tell him you havefeminineproblems. That’ll give the kid hives.”
Kate raced out of the back room, unsure of what she was going to do, but knowing she had to do it.
Wade stood at the front entrance of Vice as she ran toward the door.
“Kate. Long time, no…whoa. Are you okay? Where’s the fire?”
“Is he here?”
“Liam? Yeah, he’s in his office.”
“Please. I need to see him.” She gulped for air. Even the run from the taxi bay had winded her. Sometimes the only thing worse than going on a health food diet was going off it again.
“Sure. I’ll take you.”
She didn’t bat an eye at the statues of naked goddesses or the flashing lights from the slots on the way to the elevator. Not even the goddamn ceiling of smoke made her blink. She remained focused, needing to see Liam. She just needed to know…
The door opened into his office, and there he was. Facing away from them, Liam stood at the window, looking out over the Strip. No suit today. Just a rumpled grey T-shirt and faded jeans. His hair seemed a bit longer in back, and from her angle, she spied a bit more beard growth on his jaw.
He still took her breath away, even with his face turned.
Wade called out. “Liam, you have a visitor.” He ushered her inside and stepped back into the elevator. As the door closed, he gave her a wink.
