I lift some of the matted blue strands to my nose and sniff. Clem smiles as I try to hide my grimace.
She sits on the end of my bed and pats my foot under the covers, and I guess she’s keeping clear of the stink radius. “You tried shooting your shot. It didn’t work out. I know you love him, I know your heart is broken, but you had a life before Gabe Laurier, and there will be one after him.”
I nod, and swipe at the tears spilling over my cheeks. “He really hurt me.”
“I know, baby girl.” Clem sighs. “Time to use it, though. Put on your game face, go get this job, and throw your new and improved fucking hot ass in his face.”
I laugh, because I think I’ve thrown myself at Gabe enough for one lifetime. “Couldda had this ass, and instead he chose psycho.”
Clem laughs and dives on top of me, apparently ignoring the possibility of being infected by my stench.
“That’s my girl.” She kisses my face all over and then screws up her nose, slowly rolling onto the bed beside me. “Yeah, you need a shower.”
Istand outside the restaurant in a skirt far shorter than I’m comfortable wearing to a job interview, opaque tights, booties, and a cream sweater. My hair is clean, the sun is too damn bright outside my little cave, and the smell wafting from the restaurant is enough to just stop me in my tracks and take myself out to lunch, but sadly, I’d need money for that.
With one last exhale, I step inside. A man with tightly woven dreads stands behind the bar vigorously rattling a cocktail shaker. “Oh, honey. We’re not open yet.”
“Oh, sorry. I’m just here about the waitress position.”
He gasps. “Get the fuck out!”
“Er ... okay. Sorry to have disturbed you.” I turn on my heels and head for the door. Uproarious laughter comes from the bar, and I turn and glare.
“I didn’t mean actually get the fuck out. Sorry, I’m just hoping you’re the miracle we need, sugar.”
“Oh ... well,” I throw my arms wide and give him a sheepish smile. “Here I am.”
“I’m Judah. Pronouns are they, them, theirs.”
I smile. “Lo. She, hers.”
“Let me go get Mr. Boss Man.”
“Okay.” They saunter off through the kitchen and I smooth down my skirt and fluff my hair a little. I may not have wanted to come, but I really need this job.
Judah pokes their head around the partition separating the kitchen from the rest of the restaurant. “He says to come on through.”
“Thanks.”
“Please don’t fuck this up. We really need more staff,” Judah says as they usher me into a small office and close the door.
I’m not sure if they’re talking to me or Mr. Boss Man—who’s dressed in a sharp, well-tailored suit, with his dark hair slickedback and melty chocolate eyes studying me.Holy shit. This guy is a five-alarm fire.
“Pequeña azul,” he mutters as his eyes drink in my hair, face and body. Not in a creepy way—or maybe it would be if he didn’t look like a fucking Mexican supermodel. Regardless, heat flames my cheeks, and I’m suddenly feeling a little too hot in this outfit.
“Er ... I don’t speak Spanish.”
“Forgive me. My English is not always so great.” Mr. Boss Man shakes his head as if rousing himself from a stupor. His accent is thick and his “R”s roll off his tongue, slow and smooth like honey. He stands and extends his hand toward me over his desk. “I’m Arturo Mendoza. You must be Lo?”
I take a fumbling step forward and shake his hand, though I trip all over myself like a fucking lunatic and almost pull him across the desk as I park my ass in the chair opposite to keep from falling on my face.
“That’s quite the handshake.”
I release his hand and clasp mine together in my lap. “Sorry. God, I’m so sorry. I’m Lo. And I promise I’m not nearly this clumsy.”
“Good, good. A clumsy waitress is er ... not so good for business.”
“Ha!” I bite my lip and take a deep breath to steady my galloping heartbeat. Then I pull my resume from my purse and hand it to him. “I swear I’m not clumsy at all. Just the opposite, and I’m a really hard worker.”