Cynthia, Director of Events.
She gripped the tray a little tighter.
Over Cynthia’s shoulder she saw her colleague Eva pull a face and make the shape of a shark’s fin with her hands. It cheered Matilda up.
As always, Cynthia was wearing her corporate smile; the one she wore for every event along with her Star Events uniform. It sat there like an accessory, never reaching her eyes.
This, Matilda thought, was her reality. The closest she came to being a bad girl was thinking very, very bad thoughts about her boss.
“You’re staring into space,” Cynthia hissed between her teeth. “You’re here to work, not to gaze.”
Lara Striker would have punched Cynthia right in the middle of that fake smile and added another crime to her already impressive list.
Matilda simply nodded.
In fiction, characters could punch their bosses and get away with it.
In real life, you lost your job, and then you were dining on Cup-a-Soup seven nights a week instead of four. That was a fact of life, and at least this job allowed her to write.
Her colleague Eva was mouthing something behind Cynthia’s back. Matilda couldn’t make out what she was saying, but it made her feel better to know she wasn’t alone.
Apart from Cynthia, she worked with a great team of people, which was another reason she didn’t want to punch her boss. Working with Frankie, Eva and their team leader, Paige, was the most fun she’d had in her working life. She didn’t want to spoil that. When Cynthia was out of the office, they had fun. For the first time in her life, she felt as if she fitted. Not with the company, but with the group of women who were her colleagues. And friends, she reminded herself. As someone who was cautious with strangers and didn’t make friends easily, those friends were more precious than any of the jewelry on display tonight.
“I realize there are celebrities here,” Cynthia managed to speak without disturbing the smile, “but you need to look through them. I don’t employ you to stand there gaping like a goldfish.”
Lara Striker would know exactly where to put a goldfish.
Matilda bobbed her head again. Experience had taught her to agree to everything. The best way to stay employed was to fly under Cynthia’s radar. She liked to think of herself as a stealth plane, traveling through life undetected. Of course, she was the passenger, whereas Lara Striker would have been in the pilot’s seat, her focus absolute.
“I’m trying to keep the tray straight, Cynthia.” Someone with her coordination challenges might have been better choosing a profession other than waitressing, but this job gave her the perfect opportunity to people-watch. She was able to observe the world through the rising bubbles in the champagne glasses without being expected to speak or socialize.
Who were these people? What secrets were they hiding beneath silk, velvet and jewels? Who did they become when they returned home and stripped off the disguise they presented to the world?
Pondering those questions was the reason she loved the job.
That and the fact that she had access to some of the most exclusive venues in New York City.
Like this one.
The rooftop terrace offering panoramic views of Manhattan, far above the busy streets filled with discordant noise and the blur of yellow cabs. In another month or so, the pumping summer heat would be brutal, but for now a light breeze cooled the terrace. Everywhere you looked there were lights. They sparkled like the display in the windows of Tiffany’s, twisted through the elaborate greenery that adorned the edges of the terrace, adding more lights to a city that already had more than enough. High above there were stars in the sky, but it was as if they’d given up competing. At night, New York City felt like one big party. City of dreams.
They were other people’s dreams, of course, but Matilda didn’t mind that. She didn’t think about the hard grind that was her life, because there was nothing she could do to change that reality, and most of the time she lived in a fictional world of her own creation.
She could have stood and stared for hours, but even five minutes would have gotten her fired.
Before she’d taken the job, she’d been warned that Star Events was known for their ruthless attitude toward their staff. The economic downturn combined with a glut of staff meant that if you didn’t perform perfectly, you were out.
She couldn’t afford to lose her job.
Remembering that, she held the tray a little tighter.
“I’m concentrating, Cynthia.”
“Tonight is a huge opportunity for Star Events. This is our second event for the Adams Construction Group and it’s catapulted us into a different league. We need to impress. Business creates more business. That account is worth more to us in a year than all the others put together, and tonight I intend to meet the man himself. Chase Adams. Did you read that article in Forbes? ‘The Man Who Has Everything.’ He is richer than Midas.” Cynthia lowered her voice in reverence. “He is here somewhere.”
Probably hiding behind a curtain, counting his millions, Matilda thought, wondering if Cynthia actually knew what had happened to Midas. It hadn’t turned out so well for him. She hoped Chase was having better luck.
She didn’t mention to Cynthia that she was hoping to meet him, too, but for different reasons.
Chase Adams was a collector of rare books. He even had a library in one of his homes. She’d seen photos online and admired the oak cabinets and the books lined up in uniform rows, the lettering on the rainbow of spines offering tantalizing hints as to the worlds concealed inside.
Matilda couldn’t imagine a house big enough to include a library. If she brought more than two paperbacks into her apartment, she had to throw something out to make room.
Her main interest in meeting the legendary Chase wasn’t his library or his interest in books, though; it was his brother. Brett Adams ran a publishing company, and she was desperately hoping to find a way of getting her book to him. It made her shake even thinking about it, but she was just about desperate enough to push through her natural preference to hide from people and find the courage to speak to Chase.
To do that, she thought about her mother.
Never let fear stop you going after your dream.
Matilda lifted her chin.
She had a USB stick in her pocket, and a printed copy of the manuscript in her bag, stowed safely in the cloakroom.
“I hope you manage to find him, Cynthia. And I hope he continues to give us lots of business.” It crossed her mind that relying on one company for the lion’s share of business probably wasn’t great practice, but it wasn’t her place to say so.
Lara Striker would have said it, but it would have taken more than a man with money in the bank and a library in his house to impress Lara the lioness.
Matilda’s mind wandered as she played with a few ideas for tweaking her character. Should she add in a few idiosyncrasies? Give Lara a few endearingly normal traits to make her more human? Perhaps she could be clumsy. No, she wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
She realized Cynthia was frowning at her. “Is something wrong?”
“Your skirt! What’s happened to your skirt?”
Matilda looked down in alarm, but her skirt looked the same as it had when she’d dressed hours earlier in the cramped single room that was home. One of the things she liked about the Star Events “uniform” was that in her black skirt and shirt she looked the same as every other waitress working tonight. Just taller. And a little more clumsy and awkward.
“There’s something wrong with my skirt?”
“It’s shorter than the regulation length.