Chapter 4
824 Words
The bell above the door was still vibrating from the force of the butler’s exit, and the diner felt like it had been sucked into a vacuum. Every eye in the place was pinned to me—some curious, some suspicious, and all of them hungry for a story I didn’t have the strength to tell.
"Clara."
Lou’s voice wasn't its usual booming roar; it was low, sharp, and laced with a jittery kind of fear. He walked over, wiping his hands on a rag that was just as greasy as the grill. "Who the hell were those guys? Bodyguards? A butler? Since when does a girl living on a bus have friends in charcoal suits?"
I looked down at the cream-colored card in my hand, the gold crest biting into my palm. I didn't know the man who sent them. I only knew the cold, bored look of the stranger in the suit from the Lounge, and the terrifying way his men spoke about my father’s "balances."
"I don't know them, Lou," I whispered, my throat feeling like it was lined with sandpaper.
"Don't lie to me. People like that don't just drop a month's rent on a counter for a waitress they don't know." He gestured aggressively at the stack of bills the guard had left. "You’ve got a lot of nerve bringing that kind of trouble into my shop. If this is some debt your old man racked up, I want no part of it. Get back to work. And don't let this 'appointment' delay your tables, or you can find another place to hide."
I moved like a machine for the next four hours. My body went through the motions—refilling coffee, clearing plates, dodging the questions Lou kept barking at me every time I passed the kitchen window. He wanted answers, but I was too busy trying to stop my hands from shaking. Who is this mysterious man? Why was he hunting for a girl who had already lost everything?
As soon as the clock hit the end of my shift, I didn't wait to change. I ducked into the employee locker room and pulled out my phone, I dialed.
"Maya? It's Clara."
"Hey, girl. You okay? You sound like you just saw a ghost," Maya’s voice was a welcome comfort, though it made the lump in my throat grow.
"I need a massive favor. Can you cover my graveyard shift at the Lounge tonight? I... I have something I have to handle. Something important."
There was a long pause on the other end. "The midnight shift? Clara, that’s the brutal one. You know I’ve got the early bird tomorrow." She sighed, and I could hear her shifting on her feet. "Fine. But you owe me big time, Clara. Dinner, drinks, and a full explanation. Why the sudden vanishing act?"
"I'll tell you later, I promise," I said, my voice cracking. "I just have to go."
I hung up before she could ask anything else. I didn't have the words to tell her that I was about to step into something I didn't even understand myself.
I took a breath and looked at the box the silver-haired man had left for me. I shed my grease-stained apron, letting it fall to the floor like a skin I was outgrowing. I reached into the box and pulled out the dress. The silk felt like cool water against my tired skin, and the subtle shine of the fabric seemed to glow even in the dim locker room light. I fastened the jewelry—the necessary pieces that made me feel like the girl from two years ago again.
I walked out of the diner, ignoring Lou’s glares. As I stepped onto the street, the evening air caught the hem of the dress. I wasn't the waitress anymore.
The black sedan was already there, idling like a resting beast against the curb. Immediately, I saw the man who was to pick me up—one of the "mountains" in the charcoal suits from earlier. He didn't say a word; he simply opened the heavy rear door with a gloved hand, waiting for me to disappear into the leather interior.
I slid inside, the door closing with a soft, expensive thud that seemed to shut out the entire world.
The drive was agonizing. We moved through the city streets like a ghost ship cutting through fog. I stared out the tinted window, watching the neon signs of cheap motels and 24-hour pharmacies blur into streaks of neon pink and green.
During the drive, nobody spoke.
The silence was thick, pressing against my eardrums harder than the noise of the diner ever could. The driver’s eyes were fixed on the road, visible only as a cold reflection in the rearview mirror. I clutched my small clutch bag, my fingers tracing the hem of the dress, wondering if giant could hear my heart hammering.
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