Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
I feel inflated with an optimism more suited for my sister. But still, this might be the way out from them.
Our parents.
I’ve wanted to knock over the queens and king since I was a teenager. Since I felt the insidious grip they have on me.
It’s seemed too impossible to escape out from under them.
It might still be. Because if they find out where we are, they’re going to see what I see when I look around Victoria.
The perfect marks.
Eleven
Phoebe
Three hours into my shift and Chelsea has released me alone in the wild. Mostly because the widowers have grown an interest in me—or rather my assets.
“It’s what we call Mr. Burke, Mr. Ortiz, and Mr. Cunningham,” Chelsea told me after she referred to three well-groomed, middle-aged men as “the widowers.” They’ve been huddled near the main dining’s stately fireplace, drinks in hand and the latest tech gadgets on their wrists.
I caught Mr. Burke staring at my ass after I replenished his liquor, and Chelsea slipped me a sympathetic look. “You’re new, and they like shiny new things. Once another girl comes in, it’ll pass.”
Yeah, it’ll pass on to her. Like some sort of new-girl parasite.
I’d rather just take one for the team, I guess. Let the parasite die with me. So when Chelsea tells me they’ve requested me as their server, I’m not as disgruntled as maybe I should be. It’s not like there’s a perk to serving Lusty Eyes over there.
They can’t tip me.
And no tips mean no extra cash for being ogled like a rare prime rib. The attention might feel better if I was suntanning on the bow of a fifty-foot yacht while sipping a strawberry daiquiri, not waiting hand and foot on the rich elite.
Hailey is busy taking drink orders from a cluster of older ladies, all in pickleball skirts and visors. Chelsea has been hovering over her like a momma bird worried about the weakest baby in the nest, but Hails is holding her own.
“Where are you from, sweetheart?” Mr. Burke asks me before I can make a quick escape.
“Nowhere really,” I answer vaguely with a sheepish smile. “I moved around a lot growing up. Can I get you anything else, Mr. Ortiz?”
“A new business partner,” he jokes with a chuckle.
We all laugh.
So funny. What a comedian. I smile through my grimace. “I wish I could help you there. I don’t have a mind for business.”
“That’s too bad.”
Mr. Burke downs his liquor in one swallow. “I’ll take another Cognac.” He switched from bourbon to Cognac thirty minutes ago.
I take his empty glass. “Delamain again? Or would you like to try something better?”
“Better?” He laughs, his brows slowly elevating in intrigue. “You know your Cognacs, Phoebe?”
“I love a smooth Cognac.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Rémy Martin XO. It’s not as sweet as what you’ve been drinking, but you might enjoy the flavor. It’s nutty.” The word rolls off my tongue like a red-hot suggestion, and the smarmy smile he produces makes my skin crawl.
Ugh, I hate myself for somewhat flirting with Mr. Lusty Eyes, and for what? I’m Miss Zero Tips McFool.
“That, then.” He stares right at my boobs, not even hiding anymore. “Let’s try it.” Now back to my eyes.
“I’ll be a minute.” I turn to leave.
“I’ll be here.”
I’m sure you will be. As I walk far away from the widowers, an uneasiness tosses my stomach. Not from being ogled. Not from me subconsciously flirting.
But because I lied to him.
For one, I can’t stand Cognac, and I didn’t recommend him another brand because I thought he’d enjoy it more. I just sold him one of the highest-priced Cognacs in the club’s stock. Just to empty his wallet. At least, from what I’ve seen so far, it’s one of the most expensive liquors. (I didn’t take a thorough inventory of every bottle.)
Those are just white lies, though.
It’s not like this was a pig in a poke.
Avoiding the widowers, I check on other guests for a few minutes. Refilling waters and asking if they’d like anything else. It’s not so bad. Some tables are fun to visit. Two posh, gorgeous women, who are newly married, smell like Chanel and lilies, and they give me an insider tip.
“You have to go to Victoria Arts Cinema.” Jasmine hangs on to my wrist with earnestness; a beautiful sapphire bracelet sparkles on her dark brown skin. “You’ll love the classics.”
“They just played Silence of the Lambs last week,” her wife, Traci, says. “Isn’t The Shining all next month, Jas?”
“Oh, it is!”
I might’ve mentioned that I’m a horror movie nut. I smile, a genuine one this time. “Maybe I will like it here.”
“This town has its downsides, trust me,” Jasmine says, letting go of my wrist. “But there is good in Victoria.”
I’m not good.
My smile teeters. “I should let you two get back to it. Anything else in the meantime?” I wish they’d give me a laundry list of drinks, but they’re easy and let me go without any new requests.