“Ha! Me too. Although I think my boss would miss me.”
A look is exchanged between Hope and Bethany, which I don’t fully understand. There’s a dark heat to it that sends a little skitter of awareness over my skin.
Hope turns to me, rolling her eyes. “Bethany could probably pay for my entire wedding with herweeklysalary. Her boss is generous to say the least,” she quips, and Bethany barks out a laugh as she tops off our champagne.
“What is it that you do for work?” I ask her.
Bethany looks me dead in the eye and smirks. “I’m an executive assistant,” she says blithely. “Officially.”
Hope snorts. “Yeah. Just with extra responsibilities.”
What am I missing here?
“What doyoudo?” Bethany asks me as I look between them in confusion.
“I’m a waitress,” I reply, and Hope’s gaze turns more serious.
“She’s a waitress, and a delivery driver, and spends half her evenings editing the papers of dumb college students online. Mia works harder than all of us.”
Bethany’s eyes swivel to me. Her gaze is direct and confident; there isn’t a trace of pity in it, either, which surprises me. Plenty of people are worse off than I am.
Usually, the response I get when people find out I work three jobs is dismay. A lot of them try to give me advice about what I could do differently.
Bethany isn’t looking at me like that. She’s thoughtful.
“How long have you worked three jobs?” she asks, her eyes running very deliberately over my shoulders and down into the bubbling water like she’s checking me out. I fidget, unnerved by the thorough appraisal.
“Two years. My sister’s not well, so I work extra to pay for her medical bills.”
“That’s pretty amazing,” Bethany mutters. “I spend all my money on myself. I’m selfish like that.”
“You paid for half this weekend, B. Shut up,” Hope slurs, downing the rest of her champagne as Bethany tops her off again.
Bethany’s suddenly looking a lot more sober. She’s gorgeous, her tan skin contrasting with the white bubbles around her shoulders and full, wide lips that spread into a smile.
“Is your sister doing better?”
I glance at Hope, not wanting to bring the mood down, and shrug. “She’s not great. We’ve been looking into some new treatment. I might have to start an OnlyFans to pay for it, though.”
Hope is frowning at Bethany now, and Bethany’s smirk returns as she raises her eyebrows.
“I might have a better option for you,” she says, her voice like silk.
“Beth, don’t—” Hope begins.
Bethany raises her hand out of the water at Hope. “I know, you’re super protective of this gorgeous creature, but she’s an adult, Hope, she can make her own choices.”
My brow furrows as I watch Bethany. She shifts forward, spearing me with that dark gaze.
“I earn thousands of dollars a week, Amelia. Thousands. And if you’re willing to give a little extra, you can earn even more. My job is eight until five, lucrative as hell, and, depending on the clients, it’s also really enjoyable.”
Hope is stiff beside me, chewing on her lip.
“Bethany, I don’t think?—”
“What’s the job?” I blurt out, excitement rippling through me at the thought of earning that kind of salary doing EA work.I’m organized and motivated, and I’ve worked in administrative roles before. There’s no way I’d be underqualified. This could be my ticket out of my life and a way to help Annabelle all in one go.
“Like I said, executive assistant. But withbenefits,” Bethany says, her voice dropping to a low murmur. She pauses for a second, swirling her champagne as though deciding whether to continue. Then she shrugs. “I work for an escort service.”
