My eyes snap open when I wake up. My heart is racing. I must have had a bad dream. I feel the warmth of Vincent's arm around my waist. I don't know what happened last night. I do remember him telling me I wouldn't remember, but I remember what happened in the hologram room. What did he make me not remember? What happened last night.
"Good morning," he says, sounding tired.
"Morning, Vincent," I mumble back, uncomfortable with him being so close.
"Did you scare yourself awake?" I hear him ask groggily. He doesn't sound like he really cares. He's just being observant.
I nod, "Yes, I must have."
His arm tightens around me, pulling me straight to his chest which I can easily feel through the thin material of my nightgown-which I do not remember changing into. "Don't we have things to do today?" I ask nervously, hoping he'll let me go.
He hums, "I do. You can stay in here unless you're planning on joining me."
"What are you doing?" I ask.
"Opening the restaurant for the first time in a week." He says, sounding proud of himself. "You can serve today, or cook. Whichever you'd like."
"I can do serving today, if you need me." I say softly, still wishing I could push his arm away and get myself some space between us, but I already know doing so would only upset him and could end up getting me into more trouble than I was yesterday.
"Sure." He says, i can feel his arm slowly let go of me and he sits up. I turn onto my side a little more to look at him. Not wearing a shirt. I breathe out. Why do the psychopaths always have to be so handsome? My eyes linger on his toned body a little more than I mean to, and I know he noticed. I look away, embarrassed. "Go ahead and get ready, my love." He reaches over and takes the cuff off. "If you're not out in five minutes, I'll be here to get you."
I nod, sitting up. I watch him leave before i get myself out of the bed. The first place I go is the bathroom. I don't feel the need to shower. I seem clean enough. But I rinse my face with the running faucet which feels nice against my skin. I give myself a look over. My hair is a mess, and my muscles still stiff from waking up, making me look like I have a permanent frown on. I grab my brush out of the top drawer and comb through the red rats nest on my head, getting my long hair to straighten back out and lay where it belongs.
I grab the front of my hair, pulling gently and splitting it into three parts, crossing the hair and adding more as I go until I have a braid that falls to my waist. I smile and watch as my bangs fall out in front of my face. I sweep them to the side. My eyes land on my reflection's eyes. They're blue. I thought for sure I had green eyes. But they look like they're glowing blue. The same blue I saw on my wrist when Salvation put the thumb drive into me.
I shake my head, closing my eyes. I must be going insane. I lean forward again to take a closer look. Only to confirm that my eyes are still bright green. Emerald I believe Salvation called them. I take a deep breath and glance at myself once more before heading back to the bed to my dresser.
The middle drawer has serving and baking clothes in it. Since it is technically my job, even though Vincent doesn't pay me for it. I don't know how he gets away with that. I'm sure they'd know if his employees weren't being paid. Or weren't alive. He's clever, he must have found a way to cheat the system.
As I'm putting on the black leggings, bright blue shirt and black apron, I can only think about tonight. Tonight is the night I'm going to run away. I'm going to be free. Finally I'm going to be free.
But my heart pounds at the thought. What if I can't get away? What if he chases me down? Or worse what if he kills the others and it's my fault for following them and allowing this plan to go through? I shudder a breath and tighten the apron string around my waist, tying a perfect bow.
Everything will be alright, Alex, I tell myself. As long as I don't tell him and I keep quiet about it and keep out of his suspicion, then I'll be fine. Just follow Peter's plan.
I meet Vincent upstairs in the kitchen. He's already getting the employees and the others ready for the day, giving his usual pep-talk to remind everyone to keep their manners and get along with their coworkers.
He smiles when he sees me come up. "Alex, you'll be on blue side today, Cathy pink and Peter green side."
We nod, heading out to our sections. Blue side is the closest to the kitchen. Normally Vincent puts me here to keep me close. It's the easiest area to see from the kitchen. But it also has the most tables. The dining room has twenty tables.Peter and Cathy will each have six tables-being their rows are in front of the stage-and I have eight, two of my tables having a side view of the stage.
The first people to come through the door is the band Vincent hired for today. We greet them politely. Cathy shows them to the stage, giving them a detailed tour of where everything is, and even where each member will sound the best. The next thirty minutes are silent. We stand quietly, waiting for anyone who dares come through the doors. Not that our restaurant is unclean or has the tendency to run people away. But an inspection that lasts four days? One serious enough to close down the building for a week? I doubt people didn't make comments about it. And it sure didn't go unnoticed. I glance at the clock, seeing it's noon.
Twelve hours until I get to run away. The door opens, my eyes snapping to look at the family coming through the door. A man and woman with two young children. Cathy greets them, taking our turns as usual. Cathy get the first customers, I get second, Peter gets third, then the cycle repeats until our tables are full. Which has happened quite a few times, we've had to turn people down.
Vincent serves all types of foods. Pastas, burgers, seafoods, desserts, pizzas, salads. Anything you could eat anywhere else, be it Mexican, Chinese, Italian, Thai, any food you could eat anywhere else, you could eat here.
I'm not a fan of the large variety of food. The mixed smells have been enough to make me want to stay in my room. But many people love it, just because that way not everyone in the family has to agree on the same type of food to eat. Most of the time our pizzas and pastas are what get bought, so I guess it's not really that bad.
Another group comes in, four young men walk through the door. I greet them, bowing my head slightly. "Table for four?" I ask, scanning all for of them, noticing they're all looking me over too.
"Yea, sure, why not," the one standing in the front shrugs. I eye him suspiciously. They look like the type of guys to cause a problem. He smirks at my response. His brown eyes shining with mischief. But of course, being a guy it's only in their nature to behave this way when with friends in public.
"Right this way, sir," I say, grabbing four menus on our way by my stand. I take them to the table in the very back. I watch them sit down before I put the menus in front of them.
"Hey doll, could you do me a favor?" The same man asks as I bend over the table to put a menu down in front of the man sitting next to him. I look at him. "Could you tell me the name of the band here, today?"
For the first time, I hear the soft music come into my ears. I look over my shoulder at the small band and stand up. "I don't know, sir. I can ask for you if you'd like."
"Ah, don't worry yourself, Doll." He winks.
I nod, trying to keep in mind that Vincent always tells us to be pleasant even when we don't want to be. And I'd love to hit this guy somewhere it'll affect him the rest of his life. "If that's all, Sir, I'll be available when you're ready to order." I turn and begin walking back to my post.
Rage floods into my system when I hear one of the other guys tease, "I'd like to order some of that ass, dear."
I bite my tongue, trying to pretend I didn't hear him. Why me? Why did they have to be at my table?
I go over to my stand, making sure to sign into my computer. This way I can keep track of customers and payments.
I sigh, resting my hands on my hips. This is going to be a long day.