Augie went numb, still—then started toward her. She didn’t know why she moved so willingly. It was instinct, maybe. Maybe it was simple: She was in serving mode. Obedient.
As Augie approached, she made sure to look directly at Mrs. Crawley; she was not going to back down. But Mrs. Crawley’s eyes were red and dead, revealing nothing except that she was drunk. For a second, despite everything, Augie felt bad for her.
“Augie,” Mrs. Crawley repeated, chewing on her name in a way that felt mocking. “We were talking about how lovely this event is, and how hard you all work.” She set her Bellini on the bookshelf behind her as she reached into her purse, swaying slightly. “And we know we don’t do this often, but we thought we should do better. So, a little something for you. For your friend, too.” Her eyes skated to the new girl across the room, who was struggling to carry a stack of plates. She took two bills from her clutch, slicing them through the air.
Augie focused on the crisp twenties between her French manicured fingers. She felt too confused to respond. What was this? A bribe? A show of power?
“That’s very kind, but there’s no need. We’re happy to do our jobs.” Augie took a small step backward. Outside of golf caddies, staff rarely received tips. While it technically was allowed, membersknew better than to make a habit of it. Part of the Club’s appeal was that it was cashless, as if real money did not exist.
Mrs. Crawley’s mouth twitched as she held her smile taut. Around them, Mrs. Adams and Schmidt sipped their wine, picking up on the tension.
“Oh, come on, hun,” Mrs. Adams interjected. She grabbed the twenties and folded them into Augie’s apron pocket. “It’s just a little something. You all work so hard.”
Mrs. Adams had a son in Augie’s class at school, and she’d been to several parties at their house. Last summer when Mr. and Mrs. Adams were at a wedding in Italy, Garrett had even held a three-day beer Olympics in their basement. Augie could clearly picture their black felt pool table, their wine fridge, the massive blue-tiled bathroom where Leah had spent hours puking.
“It’s nice to see you, dear.” Mrs. Adams leaned in. “I was telling Danika here how you and Garrett went to high school together. And the U. Go Gophers!” She raised her fists. “He’s working at Wells Fargo down in Milwaukee, if you heard. It all goes by so fast. You must have just graduated too?”
Augie felt hot and stuck. “I did, uh, yes, I’m only here for the summer.”
Mrs. Crawley stared at her, her pupils shrinking to dots.
“Yes,” Mrs. Crawley said. “Advertising can be tough. Especially in New York.” Her voice oozed with alcohol and arrogance. She turned to pick up her drink as Augie felt faint.
“Ah, the Big Apple! That’s so exciting,” Mrs. Adam continued, unfazed. “I’ll have to tell Garrett you’re back. He comes home a lot these days. I’m sure he’d want me to say hi.”
Augie took another step backward.
“Yes, tell him hi,” she stammered, turning as she heard Mrs. Adams say what a nice girl Augie had always been, that it was too bad the job market was so tough right now. Augie closed her eyes. She jammed her hand into her apron, grabbing for the slippery bills.
She whipped around, walking straight up to Mrs. Crawley.
“I can’t accept this.” She held the bills out to her, her arm hanging in the air.
Mrs. Crawley didn’t move. Augie felt Mrs. Adams and Schmidt look at her, each other, back to Augie, but Augie didn’t break eye contact with Mrs. Crawley.
Then, without thinking, Augie let go of the bills. Slowly, each fluttered to the ground like a drifting autumn leaf. The women all looked on, their chins dipping one degree at a time.
“Ope, well,” Mrs. Adams finally said.
Augie left before she could register Mrs. Crawley’s reaction, beelining for the kitchen. She didn’t care if the whole room was watching now, if Aida would question her later. Who did Mrs. Crawley think she was? Where did she get the gall? She could have offered Augie a thousand dollars and Augie would have left it at her feet.
She would not give her the satisfaction.
Interstitial
Augie Elling • 4:05 PM
Hey sorry I’ve been MIA.
It’s already been a long week.
And a weird day.
Chat Efhart • 4:29 PM
Hey!
Was starting to worry you were ghosting me
