Authors: Cheryl Harper
“Why, I did it myself.” Willodean’s giggle was both natural and completely out of place at the same time. “I fancy myself a bit of a decorator. I just finished the top floor in time for y’all.”
“I’m so glad you did. I feel like I’m sleeping on the beach,” KT said. Laura watched his face in the mirror as she counted out her tips to split with the busboy and the kitchen staff. He seemed sincere but it also seemed an excellent time to lie. Plus, he was an actor. Who knew what he really thought?
“I know an important lady like you must have a million things to do, Miss Willodean. We’re just going to take some measurements, do some lighting tests, and then take a look around the hotel to plan the extra shots tonight. If we need something, we’ll track you down. How’s that?”
She nodded. “That’ll be just fine, KT.” As soon as she turned to go, the previously silent crew converged on KT. Laura couldn’t understand everything they said, but it sounded like all six of them had a list of requests and he was the only game in town. This must be what God’s hotline sounded like most days.
As she left the bar, Willodean worked the room, stopping here and there to make sure every diner had a chance to tell her everything was just fine and that they loved what she’d done with the place. Once she’d soaked up enough fan energy, she floated out the door.
Laura shook her head. She owed Willodean a huge debt but that didn’t mean she wasn’t amused every now and then.
“Excuse me.”
Laura glanced up in the mirror. When KT snapped his fingers at her, she knew he was going to be a problem. Snapping fingers were never a good sign for a waiter. At least the chattering crew quieted so she could hear. She faked a serene smile and walked to the foot of the stage.
“Yes, sir, can I help you with something?”
KT Masters stared down at her from on high.
“We need something to drink. Cokes for everybody?” He glanced around once and then back at her.
Laura nodded. “I’ll be right back.” But before the first “b” left her mouth, he’d already dismissed her.
“What do you think, Bob? One cameraman on the stage, one set up on the floor . . .”
And the rest of the conversation Laura lost in the muttering going on inside her head.
Once she made it behind the bar, she slammed a tray on the counter and then shoved cups through the ice bin with enough force to create a mighty rattle. Sal leaned around to look at her through the pass and she forced herself to settle down. She was used to people treating her like the hired help. She
was
the hired help. But a little bit of please, thank you, and a charming smile would have gone a long way to converting her to the KT Masters fan club.
As she filled the glasses, she breathed evenly and told herself that she only had to make it through a half hour and she could head to her apartment. Holly would be waiting up so that they could watch Holly’s favorite singing competition together. Thirty more minutes and she could put on cotton shorts, her oldest T-shirt, and soak her feet like the old lady she was becoming. Her thirty-third birthday was looming. She thought she’d ask for a flannel robe. And that thought was depressing. So very depressing.
And when Laura thought about giving her daughter the money to buy her birthday flannel robe, she really had to ask herself how her life had come to this.
Laura checked her tables as she balanced a tray with the drinks. She was happy to see the Chers had already left the premises. She set the tray down for a minute to pick up their signed tickets. Her forced positive outlook slid a notch when she saw that they were staying at the hotel. And they were mediocre tippers at best. She sighed as she picked up the tray again.
All the men in the Hollywood group were standing on the small stage at the far end of the room, evaluating the changes that would need to be made. Staggered tables and plenty of green foliage filled the space in front of the long bar that covered most of one side of the restaurant. Lucky, the hotel’s Elvis impersonator, wasn’t performing so the stage was bare and the screen that usually displayed Lucky’s trivia game scores was dark. The two women were seated at a small table near the stage. Their feet were propped up and they both stared intently at their phones while their thumbs flew over tiny keyboards.
“I brought some drinks.” Laura slid the tray on the table and handed one to each woman.
They both looked up and smiled. The one closest to Laura said, “Thanks. You can leave them all here. It’s thirsty work, making ‘magic.’” She made air quotes around the last word and rolled her eyes. With her pink hair, dark lipstick, and vintage Rolling Stones T-shirt, she looked totally rebellious. She had to be at least Laura’s age, yet Laura was certain flannel robes never even crossed her mind.
“Good idea. I’ll just let
him
know.” Laura couldn’t help the emphasis. It just slipped out. The other girl snorted. KT was nodding his head at a small gray-haired man and holding up his phone, taking shots of the stage and the floor.
Laura said, “Excuse me, Mr. Masters.” When he held up an impatient hand, Laura narrowed her eyes and turned back to the two women. “Maybe you can tell him the drinks are here? I’ve got other customers to take care of.”
The pink-haired woman held out a hand. “Sure thing. I’m Mandy, the makeup artist. This is Shane. She’ll do hair. We’ll both help with costumes and props as needed.”
As Laura shook their hands, she privately thought that might be the best arrangement. Shane’s hair was perfect, not one strand out of place. Mandy’s pink shag sort of looked like she’d been caught in a windstorm. In a convertible. But her makeup and clothes were very cute.
KT said, “Hold on just a sec, Bob. Let me go ahead and tweet this. Gotta keep the fans interested, you know.”
Laura glanced over her bare shoulder to see KT bound down the stairs, pause, snap a picture and then type something on his phone before shouting something about taking down the electronic display in the corner. Lucky would not be happy about that. As KT waved his arms dramatically and the director nodded, Laura smiled at the two girls. “Guess I’m dismissed.”
They laughed and Laura turned to skirt their table as she reached for the drink tray. Being unable to move, like her feathers had attached themselves to the floor, was her first clue that something had gone horribly wrong. And when KT Masters bumped into her, sending the tray skidding into the sodas she’d just delivered, she knew exactly who was responsible. She tried to whirl around to give him a piece of her mind but spun in place and then heard a loud rip just before she bumped into the table and sent two glasses crashing to the floor. She might have followed them to the floor but KT wrapped a hand around her arm to steady her. His warm skin was a brand against her chilly skin.
The only sound in Viva Las Vegas was the tinny plink of electricity through one million bright white bulbs. Every eye was focused on the drama taking place at the foot of the stage. Before she could really get a firm grip on the embarrassment, irritation, shock, and downright anger boiling over, Laura shouted, “You ripped off my feather!”
Even the light bulbs seemed to hold their breath at that point.
KT’s hand slid down her arm, raising goose bumps as it went, before he slammed both hands on his hips and Laura shivered. The heat from that one hand made her wonder what it would be like to be pressed up against him. Instead of the flannel robe, she should put a KT Masters on her birthday list. She wouldn’t have to worry about being cold ever again.
“Yeah, I did you a favor. This costume has real potential,” he motioned with one hand as he looked her over from collarbone to knee. “But the feathers get in the way, so . . . you’re welcome!” The frown looked all wrong on his face, like he didn’t have a lot of experience with anger or irritation, but the look in his eyes was as warm as his hand had been. When he rubbed his hands together, she thought maybe she wasn’t the only one to be surprised by the heat.
They both looked down at the bedraggled pink feather, now swimming in ice cubes and spilled soda under his left shoe. No matter how much she hated them or how valid his point about the ridiculousness of the feathers was, she wasn’t going to let him get away with this. He should apologize. Any decent person would.
“What are you going to do about it?” She plopped her hands on her own hips, thrust her chin out, and met his angry stare.
He straightened and flashed a grim smile before he leaned down to scrape the feather up off the floor. He pinched the driest edge and held it out from his body. “Never heard the customer’s always right, have you?”
Laura snatched the feather away. “In what way are you a customer? I only see a too-important big shot who can’t apologize.”
His opened his mouth to say . . . something but then changed his mind and pointed a finger in her face instead. “Oh, really? I bet if I went to have a little talk with the manager or Miss Willodean, they’d have a completely different take on what just happened here and who needs to apologize.”
Laura narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. “Oh, really? I’ll take that bet.”
They both looked around the bar.
“Great. Now we’ll be the viral video of the day, too,” he muttered and motioned with his head. “Apologize for losing your temper. Now. I’ll smile and it’ll all be over. This isn’t the kind of publicity either of us wants.”
When she saw a Marilyn holding up a phone, Laura took a deep breath. She could totally be the bigger person here. Even Willodean would have a hard time being understanding if this blow up went viral.
As well-loved as KT Masters was, Laura would be the one getting all the grief, even if he did seem to be of that certain jerky persuasion that didn’t know how to treat service people. Nothing she did here would change that. She waved a hand and tried a friendly smile. “I apologize for losing my temper. It was just an accident anyway.”
“I could maybe help you repair your costume if you like.” Shane self-consciously ran a hand through her hair and ducked her head after she made the offer.
Marcy, the other waitress on duty, walked up with a towel and the busboy’s bucket in her hand. “I’ll take care of the spill. Go ahead, Laura.”
“Okay, great!” She aimed determined smiles at all four corners of the room and did her best to ignore the man responsible. “No harm done!” Then she waved the ruined feather. “Well, maybe a little minor harm but nothing that can’t be fixed, right?”
As she weaved through the tables with Shane in tow, she could feel the stares following her. At least a few of them had to be sympathetic. Feathers were often critical in celebrity impersonation. Even the Cher-raptors might have spared her a pitying glance if they’d hung around for the show.
When they made it back to the dressing area, Shane pulled a sewing kit out of her purse.
“I’m lucky you have a sewing kit. I don’t think I own a needle or thread.”
Shane shrugged. “Lots of theater experience. Never leave home without it.” She twirled a finger. “Turn around. Let me see what I can do.”
Laura looked over the posters on the wall as she waited for the final assessment. Some of them were legal notices about reporting tips and workplace injuries, some were bar policies, and then there were a million pictures of people who’d been through over the years, famous and nonfamous alike. She had no doubt that by the time the next week was over, there’d be a picture of KT Masters front and center.
“Is he always such an arrogant ass?”
With two careful snips, Shane removed the remaining feathers. After she threaded the needle, she said, “Nah. He’s not really arrogant.”
Laura turned her head, peering down over her shoulder at Shane, just to make sure she was hearing correctly what Shane was saying. Maybe she meant that sarcastically or ironically or metaphorically or dutifully because he signed her paycheck.
Shane looked up through her dark hair for a second and then huffed out a quiet laugh. “Well, okay, maybe he is but he’s not a bad guy. I think he’s just in over his head a little here. He loved the idea of producing a television series but he’d never done it before, had no idea what that meant. And because he’s a good guy, he doesn’t want to let anyone down. You know?”
Laura bit her lip as she tried to decide whether she believed any of that. She also tried not to move at all or breathe. There was a needle sewing through the satin covering her rear at this point.
“Are you two . . . you know?” Laura had no idea why she cared. Except that she could still feel his hand on her arm. If she gave herself free reign to imagine what other miracles that hand might work on her bare skin, she’d blush bright enough to match her pink satin uniform. An image of his naked chest pressed against hers as his hips worked between her thighs flashed through her mind before she could stop it. She clenched one hand to her stomach and waved the other in front of her face. She wasn’t cold any more. Now she needed a drink of water.
Sensible Laura shook her head firmly. Maybe she was ready to start dating again, but KT Masters wasn’t staying in Memphis. Only an idiot would spend two seconds wondering about him and his relationships. Or maybe someone who didn’t need a relationship, somebody lonely enough to think one night with KT Masters would be the best birthday gift ever, way better than a flannel robe.
But not someone like Laura. She took her responsibilities seriously. Besides, he was life in the fast lane. She needed training wheels at this point.
“Done.” Laura waited to see if Shane would answer her question, but all she heard was the muffled sounds of the kitchen and dining room.
Laura spun around, twisting her head to see over one shoulder and then the other. The reassuring whisper of two feathers brushing the floor accompanied her spin.
“You’re fast! Thanks so much. I’d have been up for hours trying to fix that and I need it for my shift tomorrow.”
Shane snapped her case closed and tossed it in her purse on the floor.
Laura glanced at the clock over the bulletin board. No matter how badly she wanted to just change into her street clothes and head home, she needed to make a final round through her customers. Tuesday nights were always slow. The Rock’n’Rolla didn’t get a lot of business traffic during the week and tourists liked to hit the weekend, arriving on Thursday or Friday and leaving Sunday or Monday. Tonight the small crowd was a very good thing. She just hoped she had done enough damage control that Marilyn’s video didn’t already have a million hits.