The New Money Girls by Gaillard-Jefferson Jimi

Author:Gaillard-Jefferson, Jimi [Gaillard-Jefferson, Jimi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: amazon, romance
ISBN: 9781718169050
Amazon: 1718169051
Publisher: Independently published
Published: 2018-08-15T22:00:00+00:00

O’Shea

The restaurant were more luxury whiskey bar than anything else. The bathroom I escaped to was more 1940’s powder room. It was a quiet space with thick carpets. Lighted vanities lined one wall, dainty sinks another. Three doors opened into water closets.

I sat at a vanity and stared at myself, at the mirror, without seeing what was there. It is the most annoying thing to have other people, especially strangers, tell you a truth you can’t ignore.

My head fell into my hands. A few breaths, a few moments of peace and quiet and I could go back out there. Just some time. Some time to smooth the mask, to strengthen my resolve, to remind myself that I was master of my fate and could play any hand I was dealt. A moment to remember that I'd chosen Domingo before and after I knew what he was. It would only take a minute to brush aside Mrs’s pity and my own feelings, those feelings weren’t jealousy, about Mrs’s rock solid relationship with her husband. I would not consider what life would be like with a partner instead of a man that was no more than a job. No. No. No! I was too deep. Had gotten too far. Sacrificed so much. Ignored far too much. I would not cede defeat now. Just a few more moments. Just a bit more quiet.

“O’Shea! Darlin’ how are you?”

The universe couldn’t give me what I asked for even once? Bullshit.

I raised my head, my customer service smile already in place, to look at the woman who’d just walked out of one of the water closets and interrupted my much needed peace. The woman was petite, blond, beautiful if you liked your women so thin they seemed brittle-all knees, elbows, and cheekbones so sharp they could be deadly weapons. If you liked the fake smiles and laughter that never made it to her eyes. The woman ate at my restaurant, was known to spend a bit too much time in the bathroom after her entree and told whoever would listen exactly who her husband was and how important his job was. Domingo had introduced the two of us once, not that I remembered the woman’s name. But I remember I thought they suited each other. She was the color of vomit, too. A different shade, paler, more insipid, but still vomit. I should have encouraged Domingo to have an affair with her. I could have used a coworker to share the workload with.

“How are you?” I angled my body to face the blonde.

“Dying to know what you’re doing out there with Mrs. You just got engaged and you’re already rubbing elbows with the cream of the crop.” The blonde stood next to my vanity.

“She’s a friend now, or at least I hope she will be,” I said.

“How sweet for you.” She leaned over the vanity to dab a finger over her lipstick. “Was what I overheard correct? Are you all going to be planning an event together?”

I let a ghost of a smile cross my face.

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