The Victorian (Lavender Shores Book 9), page 11
Even the way he looked at me the night before. Especially after actually having a decent idea about the damn cookbook. He could’ve knocked me over with a feather, he shocked me so hard. I didn’t know he had it in him to go against his beloved founding families.
Man, I bet he and Mary Ellen were having a good old time bitching about classless, uncultured Charley Perez.
There was a knock at my office door, the sound cutting through my skull like a sledgehammer. “You really don’t want to come in here right now.” Sure, I yelled it, but at least it was a warning.
“There’s a girl here to see you.” Brenda’s terrified squeak of a voice barely made it into the office. “Uhm… Heather Kelly’s daughter…”
Well, speak of the founding family devils. “Why the fuck would I want to…” My yell trailed off as a flicker of curiosity ignited. Why in the world would Heather Kelly’s daughter want to talk to me? I didn’t even know she had a daughter. Wait… wait… yes, I did know. She adopted that girl a couple of years before. It had been a big to-do in Lavender Shores, as was everything the founding families did. But even I hadn’t been able to find fault with her actions. She’d saved the girl from her abusive parents, ones who wouldn’t let her be the girl she knew she was. “Fine. I’ll talk to her. Just give me a minute.”
“Okay.” Brenda brightened, clearly relieved. “I’ll send her in to see you in a few minutes.”
I started to nod, not that she could see me, then realized what she’d said. I threw open the door. “Are you fucking nuts? I’m not going to be alone in my office with a teenager, especially not one with the last name Kelly.”
Brenda nodded, clearly unable to figure out what to say.
I motioned across the restaurant. “Put her in the back booth. Tell her I’ll be there in a minute.” I started to shut the door, then paused. “See if she wants a drink or anything to eat, on the house.”
I took my minute, and then a few more, trying to figure out if I could locate a trap in this girl’s visit. It had to be a setup of some sort. Well, I’d show them. No matter what she said, I wouldn’t lose my temper. I wouldn’t give them a reason to come against me, at least no more than they already had. Charley Perez might be a lot of things, and he might do or say things he regretted, but not to children. Never to children. At least not to their faces.
My theory of a setup faded as I approached the booth. She was tall and lanky, with long straight black hair, probably of Hispanic heritage, I wasn’t completely certain. But those big eyes were huge and nervous. I paused beside the table. “Hey. How can I help you?” I forced myself to remember some manners and stuck out my hand. “Sorry, I don’t remember your name.”
“Alex.” Her voice was soft and timid, but she took my hand. As we shook, I noticed it was nearly as large as my own. “Alex Kelly.”
“Nice to meet you.” I released her.
“We’ve met before, but I don’t expect you to remember.”
From her expression, I wished I could. Wasn’t sure exactly what heartstrings she pulled at me, but damn, she was yanking them. I sat down across from her in the booth and folded my hands on the table. “What can I do for you, Alex?”
“I’d like a job.”
EIGHT
SETH
PAUSING BY the front door of Charley’s Tavern, I wished I was the type of guy who meditated. If so, maybe I could take a few slow, deep breaths and get centered, or whatever. Trust that my belly chakra—was that a thing?—would keep me from losing my temper with Charley. Even more importantly, help me keep my clothes on, and his. Maybe it was the cock chakra that needed to be put in check. Regardless, I would’ve had to start meditating forty years before and become a Zen master in order to have it do a lick of good with Charley Perez.
I’d put it off as long as I could, longer than I should’ve, considering how on edge I’d managed to get myself as I’d attempted to prepare all morning. Any longer and there was no chance of this meeting going well. I pushed open the door and walked in. I already had a spiel prepared for what I was going to tell whoever was at the hostess stand, but no one was there. Maybe luck was on my side.
I darted farther inside before anyone could arrive. I’d been in the restaurant a few times when Will’s reality show, Titan Love, had viewings at Charley’s Tavern, so I knew where his office was located. On my way to it, I scanned the restaurant in case he was milling about, and I did a double take. In the far back corner was—it couldn’t be. I took a few more steps, narrowing my eyes. Sure enough, Alex. She looked as nervous as I felt, though she always seemed on edge.
I headed her way, wanting to check on her. She might be seventeen, but she elicited a strong protective instinct. I thought she inspired that in everyone, except for her fucking birth parents. I was only a couple of booths away when I caught Charley’s voice. “Does your mom… er… Heather know you’re here?”
“I call her Mom, it’s okay.” Alex sounded calmer than she appeared. “And no, she doesn’t.”
What in the world? Feeling a little bit like Lucille Ball without her Ethel, I ducked just out of view while managing to slide into the booth directly behind them.
“I can’t give you a job without her permission.” Charley actually sounded apologetic. And… Job?
“I’m seventeen.” There was a touch of defiance in Alex’s voice. I was pleased to hear it. “But I wouldn’t keep it a secret from her. I just wanted to talk to you first.”
If I was putting two and two together correctly, Alex was asking Charley for a job. Obviously. That blew my mind. I knew she’d asked Heather if she could get a job after she turned seventeen, that had been their agreement—give her enough time to settle into Heather’s home and the new school, not to mention all the changes that would happen to her due to hormone treatment and the billion other life-altering events that had taken place. But I’d assumed she’d work at Lavender Pages with Jasper, just like Xander had done. It seemed she always followed her lifelong best friend and newly legalized older brother in everything he did. Or possibly work at Blue Blossom to be close to Heather and me.
But I pushed that little sting of perceived insult aside. I didn’t understand why the fuck she’d want to work with Charley, but surely this was a good thing. We wanted her to be strong and independent.
Charley had been silent for a moment, and when he spoke, suspicion was clear. “Why do you want to work here? For me, of all people in Lavender Shores?”
I rankled that he would suspect Alex of any deceit, like I’d sent her as a spy or something, but I’d been asking myself the very same question, hadn’t I?
“Like I said, I don’t expect you to remember me, but my parents…” Alex’s voice tightened, and I could practically see the strain in her eyes, though I was hiding, scrunched down in the booth. “My… birth parents… and I came in here when I was around twelve. Partway through dinner, my dad noticed that I’d painted my fingernails yellow. He… didn’t like it.”
My heart ached. I knew enough of Alex’s past that I could read into those words easily. How abusive her father had been, especially anytime his son did anything the least bit feminine.
To my surprise, Charley remained quiet in the silence. Once more I could imagine Alex’s face as she battled for composure. Probably wringing her hair with her hands. Hands that I knew were her biggest insecurity, and one of the areas her hormone treatment couldn’t affect. “When dessert came, you—” Her voice tightened again, and she cleared her throat. When she spoke once more a few seconds later, there was strength. “You delivered it instead of our server. And instead of leaving, you laid your hands against the table and started talking to my father about football. Then you drummed your fingers. They were all painted red.”
“Oh…” Charley’s whisper was so quiet, I could barely hear it from the other side of the booth. “I do remember that. That was you?”
“Dad noticed, he made some comment to Mom about how it must be some sport thing you were doing.” Alex sighed, then sniffed, but her voice never wavered again. “When you brought the check, you commented about my nails. Said that it was a coincidence, since you almost chose yellow that morning as well.”
“Oh.” That was all Charley said. But in that one syllable, I could hear the thickness of emotion.
Caught off guard, my eyes stung. If there was one thing I was certain about, it was that Charley Perez never painted his nails a day in his life, let alone sat home debating between red or yellow.
I thought she was done, but when Alex spoke again, emotion was thick in her tone as well. “You were the first person, at least the first adult, who stood up for me.”
“Alex. I didn’t stand up for you. You don’t need to—”
“Your nails aren’t painted now,” she interrupted him, surprisingly. “And the red wasn’t fingernail polish, it wasn’t shiny.”
Charley chuckled. “No. It was a permanent marker I had in the office. I happened to overhear and thought…”
He didn’t finish.
“Thank you.” Alex’s whisper tore at my heart, and from Charley’s silence, I was willing to bet it did his as well. How could it not?
Finally he cleared his throat. “You can work here. But we have to clear it with your mom first. Heather can come down or send a note.”
“Oh, thank you. I—”
“You won’t enjoy it.” Charley interrupted Alex’s clear excitement. “Anybody that works here has to work hard. I expect perfection. And I’m… not pleasant when I don’t get it.”
“That’s okay. I’ve been yelled at a lot.” She laughed. She actually laughed. “You won’t scare me. You’re a good man.”
Charley laughed as well, though it was a completely different kind. “No. I most definitely am not.”
“When can I start?” Even with his declaration, Alex still sounded bright.
“Whenever Heather gives her permission. You can start this afternoon, if you want.”
“What would you like me to do? Wash dishes, clean up the place?” Some of her brightness seemed to fade. “I don’t expect you to have me up front where people can see me.”
It took all my willpower to stay where I was. Heather had worked with Alex for two years on that issue, we all had. She was convinced that even in Lavender Shores people would look at her and see a freak. Pretty young face and a tall lanky body with large boy hands, nails defiantly painted.
“What I actually need is a hostess. When you get that down, you can start training to be waitstaff. You’ll make better tips that way.” It was almost an angry rumble, and Charley, if I wasn’t mistaken, had read between the lines and was simply proving her wrong. “One condition.”
“Okay.” Despite Alex’s claim that Charley didn’t scare her, she suddenly sounded like he did.
“You see all the colors in here?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “I got a review a couple of months ago saying that my décor was a cliché Mexican stereotype. These were the colors I grew up with, the bright reds and yellows and teals. They were all over my abuela’s house. Paint your nails to match the tavern. Make them bright and happy. I don’t care if they’re all the same color or each one is different. Would you do that for me?”
If Alex responded, I missed it. I was too busy being overwhelmed and having my entire world shaken.
A few moments later, Charley stood, told Alex to enjoy the rest of her meal and to come back after Heather gave her permission, and then he turned to walk away. He barely took a step before he glanced in the booth and halted, his eyes going wide and then dark with rage.
I shook my head in a panic and held my finger to my lips, gesturing toward Alex in the next booth with my head as if he wouldn’t know exactly why I didn’t want to say anything.
He glowered, the hate and embarrassment clear. Then with a sneer, he stalked away.
And even in that, Charley Perez surprised me.
I waited until I heard Alex on her phone, talking to Heather, and then squeezed out of the booth while she was distracted. Maybe it would’ve been smarter if I’d left, come back another time, but I couldn’t. As I walked through the restaurant, the hostess saw me and asked if I wanted a table, a little too late, thankfully. I shook my head and continued toward the office. Not giving myself a second to consider, or wish that I knew how to meditate, I knocked.
Charley threw open the door as if he’d been waiting for me. “Eavesdropping now? Just when I thought you couldn’t get more pathetic. Does that girl know that the founding families have spies following her around?”
“It’s not like that.” I gestured past him. “May I come in? I’m here to talk about wine selection.”
His brow creased and then cleared with the snort. “Scared Mary Ellen away, did I?”
“From the way you made her cry last night, it looked like that was on purpose.”
He tilted his chin. “What? You think I did that so you’d come knocking?” Despite his defiant tone, he took a step back, then headed over to his desk as he gestured toward a chair. “Dream on. Whatever insanity happened to me in that alley is done. I quite literally just finished the fifth round of penicillin. I don’t think my body could take having your diseased cock in me again.”
I’d just sat as he finished his spiel, and I laughed. My response shocked both of us, and the expression on his face made me laugh harder. “That was actually a pretty good one.”
If I hadn’t been staring at his lips, I would’ve missed the smirk before it thinned into something dark and hard. “Glad you can laugh about it. Most whores and sons of whores don’t have much of a sense of humor.”
My laughter faded, and my fingers curled around the arms of the chair.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten, Seth.” He leaned forward, venom dripping from his words. “I might’ve had a weak moment brought on by God only knows what, but we both know that I’m fully aware of who and what you are. Your fancy clothes, your love affair with the founding families, your sommelier status”—he rolled his eyes—“none of it fools me. I can see the dirty wop you are under your masquerade.”
“You motherfucker.” It was good that both my hands were already gripping the arms of the chair, otherwise I would’ve sprung over his desk and fucking strangled him. “You nasty little motherfu—”
The look that flickered on his face cut me off. And once more if I’d glanced away for even a heartbeat, I would’ve missed it. But I’d noticed it the night before as well, right after he’d made Mary Ellen cry. That flash of regret, humiliation, shame. As if he’d give anything to take it back.
Maybe he saw the recognition on my face, as panic crossed his expression, and he hardened once more. “You heard me tell that girl, from your cowardly spying position, that I’m not a good man. I’ve never claimed to be, so quit looking at me like that. You think just because I gave that little bitch a job, that changes something between us? Because for some reason I let you fuck me that I don’t despise you? Because it doesn’t, and I do.”
For the first time in twenty years, I thought maybe I finally saw Charley Perez clearly, and decided to push, to test. I glanced toward the office door, which hadn’t closed all the way and leaned back in my chair as if craning to see. “Alex is paying for her meal right now. I hope she didn’t hear you call her that.”
I focused on him just in time to see it once more—that regret, the… pain, I supposed. It was gone again, and he shrugged, his voice hard. “Ask her to come in. I’ll tell her to her face. We don’t all pretend to be something we’re not, like you.”
I pushed just a little further. “Oh, my bad. That wasn’t her.”
His look of relief confirmed my theory, but he followed it up with another shrug.
Charley Perez wasn’t a good man. But he wasn’t just evil and hate like I’d always believed. Relaxing, I straightened and slid on the mask that he accused me of wearing—all professional, all class, all business. “So, as far as the wine pairing goes, is there a time that works better for you within the next week or so for me to come by and sample the things you’re considering making for the event?”
His anger gave way to confusion. “Don’t you already know which options you’re going to give me?”
The question was genuine, but I was also aware I was being tested. I shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “Sauvignon Blanc, dry Riesling, and Pinot Grigios are often served with Mexican food. And the Spanish Albariño is particularly good with green tomatillos, but I don’t do my wine pairings based on generalities. I have no doubt that the dishes you prepare will be made with extreme care and precision. That deserves individual attention to find the wine, or mixed drink if that’s what we decide to go with, that accentuates the artistry in the dish.”
Charley’s jaw fell open, and once more he didn’t seem able to catch himself quick enough to hide it.
“I take it that wasn’t the process Mary Ellen offered you?”
He snorted a laugh. “Not hardly.” His eyes narrowed, suspicious. “Why are you? What’s your game here?”
Suddenly he reminded me of Alex, especially when she’d first come to live with Heather. Always looking for the trap, expecting that something she said or did would lead to an attack. I leaned forward slightly, meeting his gaze. “The bottom line is we both operate businesses in Lavender Shores, we both love this town, and we both take a lot of pride in what we do. If I make you look good, I look good.”
He blinked. “That makes sense.” His gaze darted away and then came back, studying me, maybe looking for more traps. Maybe… There was heat suddenly. I swore I could almost see the image of us in the alley in his eyes. “I’m sorry I…” He shook his head, anger returning. I thought he was done speaking, but then he forced himself to look at me again. “Sorry I called you that term. It doesn’t matter that I think you’re dirty, that I know you’re fake. I’m aware what it feels like to…” Another headshake. “It was too far.”
