their work. Riley had been torn as to whether she wanted to talk about leaving or not—if everyone was too busy to ask about her new job, or comment on her departure, then it would make it easier for her.
“Hey,” one of her coworkers, Sarah said as the hostesses began seating the earliest arrivals. “Isn’t it your last night?”
“Yep,” Riley replied, smiling.
“I would’ve thought you’d skip—I mean after all, it’s not like they can fire you.”
“I figured I’d do the right thing,” Riley said with a shrug.
“You’re a better woman than I am.”
Riley turned away to approach the table that one of the hostesses had seated in her section.
The first arrivals heralded the pace of the night: busy, but without the kind of frenetic pace that came with a staffing shortage or a long wait at the door. The shift seemed to fly by as Riley trotted between the tables in her section, the bar and the service hatch. Sarah’s comment was the first anyone made about her departure from the restaurant; but by the time half the shift had flown past, at least six other people on the floor with her had said something to Riley about the fact that she was leaving.
“Please tell me that you’re going to make time to party it up tonight,” one of the hostesses said, pausing on her way back to the stand.
“Oh absolutely,” Riley said, grinning.
“Good! There’s no point in getting a better job if you’re just going to be boring about it.”
Riley laughed and went to the bar to pick up drinks for one of her tables.
“You’re starting your new gig tomorrow? What is it?”
Riley rolled her eyes at the bartender, smiling even more genuinely than usual.
“It’s a film gig, but I can’t say more than that,” she told him, wagging her finger.
For most of her time at Le Roi, Riley had suspected that Jill, the front-of-house manager, and Gilbert, the cranky head chef, had little love in their hearts for her, and that that rest of the staff there were indifferent to her at best. As more and more of her coworkers took a moment or two to wish her luck, or to say that they would miss her, however, Riley alternated between feeling overjoyed and almost feeling guilty that she was leaving them behind. At least Jill isn’t letting me down, Riley thought as she hugged yet another coworker who’d stopped her at the service hatch to wish her good luck in her future career. Jill’s icy reserve had broken only the once, and since Riley had given her notice, Jill had acted the same way that she had the entire time that Riley had known her.
As the shift began to wind down, Riley realized that she hadn’t seen her manager at all since she’d come in. That was strange, even if Jill did tend to spend more time than usual in the office on a Sunday night, preparing payroll reports and tweaking the schedule for the next week. Just when she was beginning to think that Jill was avoiding her—and avoiding any tearful goodbyes—Peter, the head bartender, got her attention with a wave of his hand.
“Hey, Townsend!”
Riley paused on her way to the service hatch to check on the status of her orders; there were still a handful of tables seated in her section, in spite of the fact that it was nine forty-five, and Riley wanted to get the patrons out of the restaurant as quickly as she could.
“What’s up?”
“Jill wants to see you in her office,” Peter said, giving her a quick grin before turning his attention back onto the customer in front of him.
Riley frowned for a moment, confused at what Jill could want with her; she hadn’t done anything to earn a chewing-out, and she had already signed the paperwork to have her last check mailed to her so she wouldn’t have to come in just to pick it up.
Riley darted into the hallway separating the front of house from the back of house and turned left at the fork, heading for Jill’s office. Riley dusted herself off, checking to make sure her apron was on properly and clean, and then knocked at the closed office door.
“Come in!”
Riley opened the door and saw a huge bouquet of yellow and orange roses on Jill’s desk. The older woman looked up from the computer screen and beamed.
“I was really hoping you wouldn’t have any need to come see me until this got delivered,” she said, gesturing to the bouquet.
“That’s—is that for me?” Riley asked, her mouth open in shock.
Jill nodded, standing quickly. “That, and this,” she said, extending an envelope towards Riley.
Riley stared at the bouquet for a moment longer before accepting the envelope; her name was written on it in Jill’s distinctive scrawl, and Riley felt her eyes tingle and prickle as she tore it open. It was only a card declaring “We’ll Miss You”, but the gesture touched Riley’s heart. She opened it to see that everyone at the restaurant had signed it. Jill must have bought it earlier in the week, because Riley recognized names and signatures from people who weren’t working that night.
Riley shook her head, smiling in amazement as she read the brief messages of support and affection. You’ve always had a good head on your shoulders, girl; keep that and you’ll keep going higher and higher. Riley’s eyes widened in surprise at the message, attached to the signature of the head chef; she had always thought the man hated her, based on the way he shouted obscenities whenever she put in a complicated order or asked for a modification.
“This is amazing,” Riley said, shaking her head again. She sniffed and looked up to see Jill watching her, still smiling with a faint trace of sadness in her eyes.
“Well, we’re all family here—even if we do get on each other’s nerves from time to time. Especially because of that, in fact.” Jill chuckled. “And I have even better news for you, actually.”
“Better?” Riley’s eyes widened
“I’m letting you go early tonight; Sarah’s agreed to take over your last couple of tables.” If she weren’t starting a new job the next day, Riley almost would have hated to lose the money for the last couple hours of work—especially the tips. But she’d already made enough that night to cover herself until she got her first paycheck from the production company, and having a few hours extra to spend celebrating her good luck was definitely welcome.
“Thank you, Jill!”
Acting on impulse, Riley threw her arms around the older woman’s shoulders, hugging her quickly. Jill returned the hug much more readily than Riley would have expected, patting her back.
“Now go grab your things and get out of here before someone on the floor decides that it’s not fair,” Jill told her, smiling.
Riley released the older woman and nodded, dashing the few tears away from her eyes. She grabbed the bouquet in its plastic vase and hurried out of the office and to the lockers; she’d brought a change of clothes with her to work, thinking that she’d dart into the restrooms to get out of her uniform when the night ended. Now that she had the rest of the night off, Riley had a chance to get to the bar possibly even before her friends arrived.
She grabbed her purse and the bag she’d stuffed into her locker and dashed into the employee women’s bathroom, locking the door behind her and immediately kicking her shoes off. In a matter of maybe three minutes she was out of her uniform and glancing in the mirror to check her makeup, debating whether to touch up her mascara and lipstick or to simply put a little powder on to eliminate the faint shine on her cheeks and nose from hours of running around.
Riley crumpled up her uniform and stuffed it into her bag. She made her way out of the bathroom to put her bag and the bouquet of flowers away in her car before heading back into the restaurant through the employee entrance at the back. I’ll make the rounds, say goodbye to everyone, maybe collect a couple of hugs and make an early start, she thought.
“They knocked me off early—you can bitch at Sarah if there’s a problem at one of my tables,” Riley called into the kitchen.
She saw smiling faces, heard a few laughs, and some of the lower chefs raised their hands in quick goodbye waves. Riley hugged Sar
ah at the service hatch, and said goodbye to Parker as he darted out from the restrooms to get back onto the floor.
She had nearly finished making her rounds, stopping at the hostess station and avoiding the tables that Sarah had taken over from her, when Riley stopped to say goodbye to the bar staff and Peter flagged her down.
“Hey Townsend, don’t head out just yet.”
“What’s up?” Riley frowned; Jill had given her the all-clear—what reason could Peter have to waylay her?
“Customer in the corner over there asked me to send you his way; he wants to have a drink with you.” Riley’s frown deepened as she racked her brain, trying to remember the people who’d been at her tables. “From the looks of him, I’d at least give him ten minutes to hear what he’s got to say.”
Riley glanced around. “Which guy? Someone from one of my tables?”
“Nah, he just came in,” Peter said, shaking his head quickly. “Considering your luck lately, maybe he’s a prospector.” Riley smiled at the term; it was what they called the headhunters working Hollywood, seeking out the up-and-coming talent, who sometimes came into the restaurant.
“I’ll see what he has to say, I guess,” she said, thinking that her night was taking stranger and stranger turns by the moment.
Peter pointed out the table, but Riley couldn’t see whoever was in the booth. She headed in the direction of her mysterious caller. It was weird being in the restaurant as a customer, instead of as an employee—even before she’d started working at Le Roi, Riley hadn’t been inside except to drop off her application and have her interview. The menu was too expensive for her budget, and once she’d started working there any thrill at spending a bonus or windfall from a lucky gig had disappeared in the knowledge of what was happening behind the scenes.
At first Riley felt a tingle all over, wondering if the man waiting for her was a wealthy patron; someone who might have wanted to date her, but had avoided it while she was working at the restaurant, only to take his chances now that she was free. But as she approached the table and finally caught sight of the man Peter had directed her to, Riley’s hopes sank. The man at the table waiting for her was gorgeous, and sharply dressed enough to fit Peter’s description of “someone interesting”, but he wasn’t a mysterious stranger. Riley took in the tailored suit and the glinting cufflinks, but no amount of visible wealth would be enough for her to feel excited about a meeting with her ex-boyfriend, Alex.
FIVE
“In case you weren’t aware, Alex, stalking is a crime in the state of California,” Riley said, meeting his gaze as she stepped into the booth.
There had been a time when she would have been thrilled to see him sitting near the bar at the restaurant; Riley had been bewitched by Alex’s boyish smile, curling hair, and designer stubble, but she’d long since told him to get out of her life and stay out of it; it had taken her finding him in bed with another woman for her to realize that his lavish spending and high rolling lifestyle were nothing more than a distraction from his nasty personality.
“Good to see you too, Ri-Ri,” Alex said, giving her the smooth, sleek smile that Riley knew so well. “At least stay for a drink and hear me out.”
Riley considered turning on her heel and walking away, but her curiosity at what he was doing at her place of work, after a year of no contact, got the better of her.
She sat down at the table. “I’m only doing this because I don’t want to make a scene, and I know how you’d act if I tried to walk away,” she said matter-of-factly.
Alex slid a drink towards her; it was one of Peter’s pricier concoctions, a mixture of three different alcohols and fruit juices so well-balanced that she’d seen more than one patron at the restaurant underestimate their tolerance and leave the bar weaving. She took a quick sip.
“You’re looking as effortlessly beautiful as always,” Alex said, giving her a nod. “Did you get a new personal trainer?”
“I do my own workouts,” Riley said, shrugging.
Up close, Riley thought that Alex looked like he was doing well for himself—his suit was more finely tailored than the ones he’d worn when they’d been dating, and in addition to the bright cufflinks, he wore a Cartier watch on one wrist that she thought might actually be genuine; at least it was a much better knockoff than any of those she’d seen on him before.
“All that yoga is doing you some favors then,” Alex said, giving her a quick leer. “I remember how flexible you were back in the day—you must be able to stick your feet behind your head by now.” Riley felt her cheeks warming up. The gloss on the outside is better, but he’s the same guy he always was, she thought, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.
“Can we get to the point, please? I’ve got people to meet with. What are you doing in my restaurant?”
“I’ve been hearing some interesting things on the grapevine,” Alex said, steepling his hands in front of his face.