“Breaks are honored when we’re fully staffed,” Regina hissed. “When we’re not, I pay you to work through them. Get your ass in there and push the champagne. The markup on it is 200 percent, and I won’t be happy if we have to drag any of it back up I-95 at the end of the night.”
Since arguing was pointless, and no doubt her two minutes were up, she got to her feet. When she faced the fifty-year-old gourmet chef turned caterer, Emily met her gaze eye to eye, which wasn’t saying much at only a few inches over five feet herself. Funny how her daunting presence made her seem six feet tall instead.
“You’re not usually a problem, Peterson. What’s going on with you—boyfriend trouble?”
“No, ma’am. I’m single.”
The older woman’s mouth twisted. “We can’t have attitude. Nip whatever it is in the bud.”
“I’m on my fourth double shift in a row, but that’s my problem, ma’am. I’ll work on the attitude.”
“I don’t like my staff spreading themselves so thin. I need you sharp and attentive to my clients.”
Regina’s rate was above industry standard. Special functions sometimes came with a bonus; tonight was one of them. Beyond that, a paycheck was all she got. And her hours weren’t consistent. Whether she worked was up to the whims of the Miami social calendar. The weeks between New Year’s and Valentine’s Day were dead. Spring and summer were ridiculously busy, with weddings and graduations coming out of their ears. In fact, she had something scheduled every night for the next three weeks straight.
Because she needed this job, she plastered on her best fake customer service smile. “I’m sharp, ma’am. I promise.”
When she tried to move past her, Regina put out an arm and stopped her.
“Are you a prude, Peterson?”
Shocked by the question, she thought perhaps she’d heard her wrong. “Excuse me?”
“Do you have a stick up your ass about sex?”
“I, um…” This was another violation; she was sure of it, just not one they’d ever covered in class. “Is there a reason you’re asking?”
“I have an exclusive event next Saturday. There will be things going on you won’t see at Sunday school, but the pay is excellent. I have an open spot for a server, but not if your virginal sensibilities are going to be offended if you see a naked breast or a man’s bare ass. If so, I’ll find someone else.”
What on earth kind of function was she talking about?
Without giving it another thought, because she really needed the money, she blurted out, “I’m neither a virgin nor a prude. I’ll do it.”
Regina studied her a beat then surprised Emily with the barest lift at one corner of her mouth. In the entire time she’d been working for her, she couldn’t remember her smiling, let alone laughing even once.
“Be at the kitchen to load at two on Saturday. Do a good job, and it could become a regular thing.” All hints of a smile vanished. “You’ll have to keep your mouth shut about what you see. The attendees are all sticklers about their privacy. One slip and you’re blacklisted.”
“I won’t say a word.”
“Hm,” she grunted and then turned to go inside.
Emily saw her chance slipping away, and blurted out, “There is one other thing.”
Regina stopped and glanced over her shoulder, one black brow arched.
That subtle action was completely intimidating, and Emily almost lost her nerve.
“Spit it out, Peterson. We both need to get back.”
“If you ever need a sous or prep chef in your kitchen, could you consider me?”
“You’re trained?” she asked, now with both brows arched. “Why didn’t you say so before now?”
“Actually, after a hiatus of several years, I just returned to culinary school. I have another semester, but I’d be honored to learn from a Michelin chef.”
Regina grunted, her lips curving downward. “Why the hiatus?”
“There was a tragedy in my family. I lost everyone within two years.” She shrugged rather than cry. “At nineteen, it messed with my head.”
