Vanessa
Stepping into the cool embrace of the staff changing room the next day felt like entering a familiar bubble. Despite the events of yesterday, a semblance of normalcy was comforting. Paloma was already there, wrestling with the buttons on her crisp red blouse uniform.
"Hey," she greeted me, a smile replacing the worry that had etched lines on her face during my hospital visit. "You look great, considering what happened yesterday. Did you spill the beans to Richard about the, uh, situation?"
I winced, the weight of my secret pressing down on me. "No, I just told him the chlorine allergy story. Everything else is so… I've chosen to keep to myself. It is so complicated, I don't even know where to begin."
Paloma's smile softened in understanding. "You mean you haven't decided on what you plan to do with the baby?"
"No," I admitted, the word catching in my throat. "And deep down, I know this baby isn't Richard's. And I can't tell Liam, who I am certain is the real father because he would think I am trying to extort money from him." The thought of revealing the truth to him sent a shiver down my spine. "I can't just waltz in there and expect him to be happy about… this."
"Oh Come on, you don't know that," Paloma scoffed. "He might be very open to the idea of you bearing his child. Judging by the way he rushed to save you from drowning in the pool yesterday, I think he likes you. And besides, you aren't from a poor family."
I shook my head, unable to share her optimism. "It's not that simple, Paloma. There's more to it than that." Just the thought of Liam's reaction filled me with dread.
"Speaking of family," I began, a new worry gnawing at me, "my mom is coming to Los Angeles next week."
Paloma's eyes lit up with excitement, in a comical way. "Whoa! Regina Pearson coming to Los Angeles, a city she despises so much?"
"Yeah," I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Tried to talk her out of it, but she's persistent. Apparently, she's planning on dragging me back to Napa by my hair if necessary."
We both burst out laughing, the tension momentarily broken.
Before I could elaborate further, a new voice cut through our conversation. A tall woman, the same one who had stood beside Tony during his grand introduction yesterday, stood at the doorway. A nametag emblazoned with "Irene" hung from her lapel. Her gaze fell on me, devoid of any warmth.
"The head of personnel would like to see you in his office now," she announced, her voice clipped and official.
I straightened in my uniform, the simple red blouse and black skirt suddenly feeling suffocating. Following Irene out of the room, I cast a helpless glance at Paloma. Her expression mirrored the knot twisting in my stomach – a mixture of pity and apprehension. Paloma wasn't the only one wondering what fresh hell awaited me in Tony's office.
She knew, just as I did, that this wouldn't be a pleasant conversation.
******************
Following Irene's rigid posture, I found myself outside Tony's office. She knocked curtly, a sound that echoed in the sterile hallway. A voice boomed from within, "Come in!"
Irene pushed open the door, ushering me inside. Tony's office wasn't grand, but it held a certain air of forced elegance that felt oddly intimidating. He sat behind a mahogany desk, a stark contrast to the playful décor of the rest of the hotel. Clearing his throat, Tony plastered a smile on his face that seemed more like a grimace.
"Oh, Vanessa," he said, his voice dripping with a false cheerfulness. "How are you doing today?"
Before I could answer, he gestured towards a plush chair in front of his desk. "Please, have a seat."
I sat down reluctantly, my stomach churning with a mix of apprehension and annoyance. "I'm fine, sir," I managed, my voice small.
Tony's smile widened, though it didn't reach his eyes. "That's good news, that is good news." He swiveled in his chair, addressing Irene with a theatrical flourish. "Did you hear that, Irene? Vanessa says she's fine."
Irene, playing the role of a loyal lieutenant, mirrored his smile tightly. In that moment, it felt like they were putting on a play, a bad one, and I was the unfortunate audience member.
Tony's eyes snapped back to me, his smile twisting into a sneer. "So, Vanessa," he drawled, "care to explain why you neglected to mention your... deadly allergy to chlorine?"
My jaw clenched. "Sir," I began, forcing my voice to remain calm, "I didn't know I was allergic."
His smile remained fixed, a plastic mask stretched across his face. "Really? You expect me to believe that? You're an actress, aren't you? Could it be that you were just… putting on a show for us." The accusation hung heavy in the air, a seed of doubt planted in his tone.
Indignation sparked within me. "No, sir! I wasn't putting on a show. I truly didn't know."
Tony leaned back in his chair, his gaze cold. "The problem with yesterday's little incident, Vanessa," he said, his voice dropping to an icy whisper, "is that it made me look bad. Like an inept fool who doesn't care about his staff. And I, Vanessa," he leaned forward, his voice a low growl, "don't appreciate being made to look like a fool."
Shame washed over me, a prickling heat behind my eyes. "I'm sorry, sir," I mumbled, the apology a hollow echo in the opulent office.
He looked at me, then back at Irene, a triumphant glint in his eyes. "See, Irene? She said she's sorry." He turned back to me, the smile returning, this time genuine. "Well then, all is forgiven."
I sat there, bewildered. What exactly had I apologized for? My medical condition? Tony's bruised ego?
Before I could dwell on it further, he launched into a new decree. "Now, Vanessa, I forgot to tell you," he began, "as a waitress in this fine establishment, any tips you earn will be… collected by Irene at the end of your shift. The next day, she'll distribute a… 'fair share' to everyone."
This was absurd. Tips were the property of the server, not some bizarre pool to be divided up by Tony and his crony. "That sounds… unusual, sir," I managed.
Tony's smile faltered for a brief moment, then snapped back into place. "Well, young lady, that's how we do things here. And speaking of things we do here," he continued, his voice taking on a hard edge, "we have night owls who need attending to. So, you'll be working nights for the next three days. And three nights every week from now on."
"But sir," I protested, "that wasn't part of the agreement when I applied."
Tony's smile vanished completely, replaced by a cold stare. "Well, young lady," he said, his voice dripping with condescension, "things change. This is a business, and we have needs. If you have a problem with this new arrangement, the door is right there. Resignation is always an option."
It was a clear threat, veiled but unmistakable. I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing a smile that felt brittle. "I have no problems, sir."
He seemed surprised by my lack of resistance, but a flicker of satisfaction crossed his face nonetheless. "Excellent," he said, clapping his hands together a little too enthusiastically. "Now, get back to work. We have thirsty guests who need attending to."
I stood up, my legs shaky with a mixture of anger and fear. As I reached for the doorknob, a snatch of conversation from behind it drifted out. Irene's voice, laced with venom, "That bitch, she actually plans to stay? Ugh, I can't stand her!"
My hand tightened on the doorknob. There was no way I was going to let them win. With a deep breath, I pushed open the door and marched out, leaving them to their venomous whispers. This job might be a nightmare, but I wouldn't be bullied into quitting. Not yet, anyway.