King of The Mountain
She could only take so much. Rae was doing her job, the smile in her eyes matching the one on her face. But the woman on the other side of the desk hadn't taken her judgmental glare off Rae's chest since coming inside the restaurant. She almost never wore revealing blouses, she didn't enjoy the attention they brought, but the contempt in the woman's eyes just pissed her off. Lucia wore booby shirts all the time and no one looked at her like she was excrement on their shoes. Men or women.
Keeping the smile plastered on her face Rae placed the credit card slip on the counter and handed the woman a pen. "If you'd just sign here Ma'am."
The woman signed without a word, and Rae took the slip, handed over the receipt, and held out the small navy blue and gold bag filled with gift cards. The woman looked up, the contempt clear, and reached for the bag.
Rae grinned ear to ear and in a voice dripping with saccharine said, "Have a wonderful evening and happy holidays."
"Merry Christmas," the woman said, pointing a finger in her face.
"And happy Chanukah," Rae said, without skipping a beat. "I'm Jewish."
She wasn't, and while her very pale Irish skin, framed by long thick strawberry-blond curls, made people squint, they didn't argue. Being confronted by a possible Jewish person always threw the war on Christmas people for a loop. Some of them got quite hostile when restaurant employees did their job and said happy holidays. Apparently Jesus would've been very insulted at other faiths and beliefs being included in holiday well wishes. The woman paused, for the first time looking uncertain.
Rae kept up the sweetness and said, "From your Jewish neighbors and friends, have a very merry Christmas and a happy new year."
The woman gave her a curt nod and left. Laughter erupted from the coatroom, which was right next to the host desk. Rae looked at Lucia and Kelsey, who were both holding their stomachs they were laughing so hard.
"Mazel tov."
Rae's heart dropped and Lucia and Kelsey disappeared into the bowels of the coatroom.
Ryan, one of the floor managers, walked around the corner with a disapproving look on his face, although he couldn't keep the mirth from his eyes. "I had no idea you were Jewish Rae. How was your Chanukah this year?"
"Good," she replied. "Thanks for asking."
He stood next to her, checking the list of remaining reservations on the other monitor. "I shouldn't have to tell you how wrong that was. What if she complained?"
"They never do," she said. He looked at her taken aback and she smiled. "Hello, welcome to the Hillcrest. Two this evening?"
Ryan was forced to turn his attention to the new guests. He smiled, his profile that of a college quarterback, with the softened edges that only came with family life. They were the same age, but his clean cut looks and boyish smile made him appear younger. Not that she looked her age, at thirty-two she looked around twenty-eight, some people still guessed younger. She attributed it to round cheeks and the Irish skin she was forced to hide from the sun growing up.
Kelsey took the guests to their table while Lucia got coats for those leaving. It was a team effort, and they split the tips evenly, which on Christmas Eve would give them each an additional two hundred dollars, possibly more. The Hillcrest was a lucrative hosting job. Located on the outskirts of the mall, it was a high-end steak house where the elite came to dine. Wine lockers were on both sides of the foyer so they were the first sight, other than the host desk, that greeted patrons when they walked through the revolving door. Gold plated names were on the bottom of each locker, a status symbol, and a guarantee of treatment above and beyond what others received. Surrounded by corporate offices and investment firms, the mall's traditional stores had been pushed out in favor of boutiques for those with mountains of disposable income. The owners of The Hillcrest picked this location to give that disposable income a place to disappear, with food, wine, cigars, and services designed for their target demographic.
Living and breathing the daily life of catering to the wealthy was a practice in acting, and Rae had gotten very good at playing the part that was expected of her, and that part varied from guest to guest.
Out of the corner of her eye, Rae caught Ryan glancing at her. "You look nice today."
She bit back the sarcastic retort. Cleavage equaled looking nice, she hoped his wife was aware of that. "Thank you," she said, as neutrally as she could. Not knowing why she really expected anything better from him.
"Beautiful!"
Rae reached for the ringing phone but Ryan beat her to it. "Bastard," she said, under her breath.
He grinned and went through the spiel. She kept her gaze fixed on the computer, wishing she hadn't given in to Paul's request.
"Where are my beautifuls?"
Lucia came out of the coatroom a bright smile on her face. "Let's go," she said, out of the corner of her mouth.
Without looking up Rae said, "Do I have too?"
Kelsey walked around the desk and disappeared into the coatroom saying, "Seasonal is good. The big bad wolves don't even see me."
They didn't used to see Rae either. She was a lot heavier when she started at The Hillcrest, and some of the men literally looked through her like she wasn't there, while others had been cold and distant. They all adored her now, giving her the same attention they gave Lucia, and it didn't make her feel attractive. It made her feel like a thing. Her worth in their eyes was crystal clear.
A mountain suddenly blocked the overhead light. At six foot four Paul Davies dominated every space he was in, not only with his size, but with his deep vibrant voice. He and his partner owned a construction company with their hands in everything, and they were wine locker holders. They'd brought their employees in for a holiday luncheon and then retreated to the lounge with a group of their buddies, drinking and smoking cigars. The day before, Paul asked if she'd wear a special blouse for him so he could get a photo of her and Lucia with the magnum of wine he'd purchased for Christmas. Special meaning more revealing than anything he'd seen her in before. She'd hemmed and hawed, and he promised her if she did, he'd give her a hundred dollars on top of the hundred he already gave her. She needed the money, her cell phone, electric, gas, and car insurance were past due, her husband Jimmy's bills were sucking up every penny they had, and she still had to get some last minute presents for her daughter Reagan. A little cleavage seemed like a small price to pay.
"Time to make a memory beautiful," Paul said, taking a gulp of scotch.
"I thought you were calling Ryan," she said, straight-faced.