Chapter 7
The following morning, I feel like death warmed over. When Maddy comes in a few minutes later, she grins at the dark circles under my eyes, making completely the wrong assumption. “Oh my God, have you been up all night? You lost your cherry, didn’t you! Oh my God! You have to tell me everything! Everything!”
I cut her off as quickly as I can but not fast enough to stop Chef Pete peeking in through the hatch. “It’s not what you think, Maddy. Go away, Pete.”
Pete ducks back into the kitchen.
“Well?” Maddy’s eyes are as big as saucers.
“I got home just before midnight. We didn’t, you know… that.”
She looks disappointed, but that doesn’t dampen her spirits for long. “I’ll do the tables, you do the floor, and tell Maddy all about it.”
I start to protest, but she turns a million-watt glare onto me. “You looked so fantastic when you left last night! I want to hear what happened!”
I flinch under her glare and escape to the cleaning cupboard. I take my time organizing the mop and bucket, but it doesn’t work for long. Maddy comes to the back and starts following me around. “Spill.”
So I tell her a bit, and it all starts tumbling out, the mansion and the people and oh-my-God the dancing. I can’t help smiling as I remember how it felt to be on his arm. And then, lying in the car, the heater blowing warm air over me, his amazing fingers pressing my thighs apart… I don’t realize that I’ve stopped talking until Maddy nudges me.
She’s bouncing up and down with excitement. “I told you he was perfect. Didn’t I tell you? It’s sooooo Prince Charming. Then what happened? He drove you home? Tell me more! Did you invite him in?”
“No.” I take a deep breath. “I ran upstairs and put on my sweats and then dashed back down to give him the dress back.”
“You did what?” Maddy looks like I’ve dumped a bucket of cold water over her, and I feel a little like that, too, just from the memory.
“I tried to give him the dress back and thanked him for a lovely evening.”
“And he said?”
“He told me to keep the dress. Then he drove away. And then I went to bed.” I try to make it sound simple, although I didn’t sleep a wink last night. Tossing and turning for hours, thinking about him. Thinking about what might have been, even if just for one night.
Maddy is just staring at me with her mouth wide open. I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen her speechless before.
I close my eyes, exhausted and yes, maybe just a little sad. But it’s only five minutes until opening, and we need to finish off. “What was I supposed to do?”
“Invite him up, of course!”
“No way! That was never going to happen.”
“Why not? You said yourself the man was sex on legs.”
“No, you said that.” I might have agreed with her, but that wasn’t the point. But I might as well tell her. She’s not going to let me off the hook. “My underwear,” I tell her, my face getting hot.
“Oh shit, those old lady panties, I forgot. But you could have nipped into the bathroom quick and changed them, right? Or just taken them off. I bet you he’d think it was hot that you weren’t wearing knickers at that big fancy party.”
“No, it would not have been hot.” She’s still not getting it. “Maddy, do you know how long it took me to get the duct tape off my breasts?”
“Oh my God, I’m sorry about that. I got some medical tape for the first aid kit, so if it happens again, we’re prepared.” Finally, the penny drops. “You didn’t invite him in because you didn’t want him to see your duct tape bra?”
“I really didn’t think that was going to make for a good first impression! He’d probably think I was some sort of kinkster, and then I’d have to break it to him that I was a virgin!”
“He might have thought that was hot.” She giggles at that and then looks serious again. “So, you sent him away? Oh my God. Did you at least get his number?”
“No.” By which I mean, no to everything. No, I didn’t get his number. No, he wouldn’t have thought duct tape breasts were hot, or at least if he does, I’m not sure I want to know about it on a first date. And especially no, I don’t want to keep talking about this conversation. The ladies knitting club is arriving any minute, and Maddy’s voice is always one notch above ‘discrete’ whether she’s talking about her shopping or her sex life.
But she won’t let up. “Okay, so we need to work out a chance meeting. You need to see him again. I bet he wants to see you, too, he just doesn’t know why you rejected him. Oh my God, I bet the man’s never been rejected in his life!”
Something like hope flares up in my chest, but I quickly dampen it down again. “He’s out of my league, Maddy. Forget it.”
“Forget it? Forget it? You have the night of your dreams with the sexiest man you will ever meet, and you didn’t pop that cherry!” I shush her as best I can. She shakes her head. “I’m not going to forget it, Crystal. You are getting laid if I have to lock the two of you into the bedroom, myself.”
Pete’s shout interrupts us. “You two planning to do any work out there?”
“Yes, Pete. Sorry, Pete.” I clear away the cleaning supplies while Maddy turns the sign on the door to open.
The bell jangles with the first customers of the day, and finally I get some peace and quiet.
By Sunday, I’m feeling a bit better and starting to wonder if he might come by and see me. It’s not really his kind of restaurant, I know, but we do a pretty good fried chicken, and I know he liked the endless coffee.
Or maybe I should try to contact him? I mean, he didn’t give me his number but he did say I could call him. Although it wasn’t in a very excited tone of voice. I’m clearing up from the lunchtime rush when I pick up an abandoned Sunday paper on table 12. It’s the fashion section, full of bright smiles and events. I only really flick through it wondering if something about Mrs. Scaravelli’s charity ball would be mentioned. There were photographers there, not that I posed for any pictures, but I saw flashing cameras often enough, and Knox said it was the event of the season.
On page 17, there’s a big photograph of Knox. His eyes are bright, and his smile is lazy, like he’s got the world at his command. He’s got his arm around some beautiful woman with lush hair and a shimmery dress who is listed in the caption just as Knox’s companion. It’s not Purple-Hair-Woman, which I’m oddly pleased about, but it does help to remind me that I was just one of many rotating women in his life. But next to that is a photograph of Lido’s Loco and a headline that the most eligible bachelor was seen at a premiere event with a diner waitress.
The article doesn’t name me, and there’s only one dark photograph where, to be honest, I can barely recognize myself, but it’s clear that it’s talking about last night. How the hell did they find out who I am? And what is it to them, anyway.
A customer voice drifts across the room. “Hey, can I get some service?”
I crumple the newspaper into a ball. Then I smooth it out again and fold it flat, with his photograph on top. I slide it into my waistband, out of sight. I will have to show it to Maddy, but not just yet. I don’t want to talk about it. The article is just a stark reminder of how I fell for the one person I’m guaranteed not to have a chance with.
He doesn’t call, of course.
The story is hardly news, and there’s nothing else in the weekend papers about the billionaire dating a waitress. Not that you could really call it a date. I tell Maddy about it after she catches me rifling through other people’s trash looking for more articles about him.
“Oh my God, I forgot how hot he is,” she says, fanning herself with my newspaper after looking at the photograph I kept. “Maybe it wasn’t him who told the paparazzi. They love stories like this. Maybe someone recognized you. Or maybe one of the staff there said something, you said you were hanging out in the kitchen. Or maybe—”
“No way, Maddy. I told no one. The only person there who knew was him.”
“But why would he do that?”
“To put me in my place? Because everything is a PR opportunity? I don’t know.”
“Oh, Crystal.” She hugs me, and I take my newspaper back. I want to keep it. As a reminder not to be stupid, I tell myself, but that’s not true. Really, I just want to have a photograph of him to remember that night by, even if it’s a picture with him and the next girl in his little black book.