1. Lily

CHAPTER 1

LILY

No, no, no .

This can’t be happening. It can’t. Why didn’t I see this coming? Or have a backup plan? I always need a backup plan.

“Sorry, Lily. You were the last one hired, so you’re the first to go. I can’t afford to keep you on. Business has tanked the past few months,” my boss says.

My shoulders drop as a heaviness settles in the pit of my stomach. I’ve been free for exactly five months, three weeks, and two days. And in that time, I’ve accomplished…not much of anything. I haven’t splurged on nail polish. Or hair dye. Or any of the other things I promised myself I would when I got away.

Between food, bus fare, some thrift store clothes, basic necessities, prescription costs, and giving my friend Hannah a little bit of money each month for providing me a place to stay, I’ve only saved seven hundred dollars. Hannah told me I didn’t need to pay rent, but I insisted. If it hadn’t been for her, I wouldn’t be free. She and her husband need the money. Seattle isn’t a cheap place to live, and they’re trying to save as much as they can before they start a family.

“Can I go down to part-time? I’ll work any shift. You know I’m a hard worker,” I plead.

Al, my boss, and owner of Al’s Diner, wipes one of his meaty hands over his face. The man is exactly what you’d picture when you think of an owner of a greasy diner. But he’s kind—really kind. He gave me a job, even though I had no employment history, and he’s always paid me on time. This man saved me in a way—just like Hannah. He’d give a person the shirt off his back if they needed it. I have a feeling he probably should have let me go a month ago, but he’s been holding on for as long as he could.

“I’m really sorry, Lily. I’ll give you a glowing reference. Whatever you need to get a new job. You’ve been a gem, and believe me, I’d rather get rid of Sarah than you, but I can’t afford a lawsuit.”

Yeah, because Sarah is lazy and can only handle three tables at a time so she can continue her non-stop texting.

Blowing out a deep breath, I lower my hands and nod. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Al. I’m going to go see if there’s a newspaper floating around out there so I can start looking.”

The older man shoots me a look. It’s the one he gives me whenever I say something ridiculous. I do it a lot. Which is why I know that expression. I guess that’s what happens when you’ve lived your life in a commune and then finally joined the real world. I have no idea how anything works.

“Jobs aren’t posted in the printed paper anymore, hon. Why don’t you use my computer?” He jabs at the keyboard for a few seconds before rising from the office chair, which looks like it was pulled from a dumpster about thirty years ago because it was already thirty years old. “This is a good website. Lots of listings.”

I scrunch my face and eye the laptop for several seconds until he nudges me toward his seat. As soon as I sit, he waddles off toward the kitchen, and I’m left alone to figure out how to use this weird device. I’ve watched Al work on it before, so it can’t be that hard. I think.

The first several minutes I spend floundering, trying to figure out the mouse thing and where to click, but it doesn’t take long before I get the hang of it. Sort of. Surely, there’s a job out there that I can do. Other diners need waitresses. Even though I’m not good at a lot of things, serving food and drinks is something I excel at. Anything that includes cooking, cleaning, or serving, really.

One by one, I scan the listings.

Garbage truck driver. Nope .

Information Technology Specialist. Whatever that is. Nope .

Human Resources Manager. Nope .

Deep Sea Diver. Umm, that sounds interesting, but no.

Cocktail Waitress. Huh. That looks interesting.

I click the link and scan the description.

Become a cocktail waitress at one of Seattle’s most elite adult clubs. Discretion is a must. No experience required. Join a friendly and professional team of staff. Background check required. On top of hourly pay, employees earn tips and full medical benefits immediately after hire. Apply in person at Edge.

Hmm. That sounds interesting and fun. I’m not sure what they mean by discretion, but I can follow the rules. Especially for what they listed as the hourly rate. I don’t even make half that here at the diner. Plus tips? And medical? Count me in. Maybe being let go isn’t the worst thing to happen.

After rifling through the messy stack of papers on Al’s desk, I find something I can use to write the address down. I can definitely handle working in a nightclub. It sounds promising, and even a bit exciting.

My heart races when I tuck the information into my beat-up purse. Now, I just need to go find Al to take him up on that glowing reference.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, my tummy doing somersault after somersault. Am I dressed okay? I don’t know what I’m supposed to wear to apply for a job at a nightclub. When I got hired at the diner, I happened to be passing by and noticed the ‘help wanted’ sign. I walked right in, and Al handed me an apron that very same day. It had been pure luck. I’d been free and looking for work for over a week and was down to my last few dollars.

I’ll always be grateful to Al. Even if he did just fire me yesterday. He promised if things pick back up, he’ll call me before hiring anyone new. I’m not feeling very hopeful about that, though. The only reason he needed another waitress at the time was because the restaurant had been featured in the newspaper as the place to find the best biscuits and gravy in Seattle. It caused a slew of new customers, but the hype quickly died down when people realized there was nothing else worth eating on the menu. And not that I’d ever tell Al, but the biscuits and gravy were rather lackluster as well. Really, what can you expect from pre-made gravy in a giant can?

I smooth my hands down the front of my turtleneck, straightening the fold. It’s plain and black. Just like my slacks and ballet flats. All of which I bought secondhand. One day, I’ll actually buy something colorful. And maybe it will be something other than a long-sleeved shirt and pants. Old habits die hard, I guess.

Letting out a deep breath, I glance at myself one more time before I grab my basic black purse and head out to catch the bus. I watch the people around me on the journey. This is what I always do. It’s been a huge eye-opener for me in the past five months. Seeing couples who are so in love giving each other affection. Parents letting their children play. Women going to and from a job.

It’s made me realize how truly messed up my life has been for the past twenty-four years. I wish I’d figured it out sooner. Wish I’d gotten away a long time ago. But I didn’t, and all I can do is make the best of it now. Even if each day is a struggle to figure out how I’m supposed to act in the real world. Everywhere I go, and everything I do feels awkward, as if I’m stumbling through every situation.

I wouldn’t trade it for anything. If someone said they’d give me a million dollars to go back to my old life, I wouldn’t take it. I wouldn’t even consider it. I’d rather die.

It takes thirty minutes to get from Hannah’s house to the bus stop closest to Edge. Thankfully, it’s not raining, so I won’t go into this place looking like a drowned rat. I need to invest in an umbrella.

As I make the two-block walk along the bustling downtown street, I peer up at the tall buildings. They’re a mix of glass and brick. Old and new, all crammed together, but it works.

I stop in front of one of the older brick buildings. The only thing that tells me it’s the place I’m looking for is the number above the door. Huh . That’s weird. Wouldn’t they want a huge sign so people see it from the street?

After taking several deep breaths, I tug on the door. It’s locked. Eyebrows furrowed, I glance at the paper in my hand where I wrote all the information. The ad said to apply in person between two o’clock and six o’clock. It’s a few minutes after two.

After giving the door another try, I let out a deep sigh. What am I supposed to do now?

“Can I help you with something?”

The deep voice from behind startles me. I start to spin around, and in the process, my feet get tangled up. As I fall, I cry out and brace myself for the searing pain of landing on the concrete. It never comes, though. Instead, I land against something firm. It doesn’t hurt. And it smells good. Really good. Clean and fresh.

“Whoa,” the voice says, and he’s close enough that his breath brushes over my forehead.

A whoosh of air rushes out of me, and I find myself looking up at the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. He stares down at me, his dark brows pinched.

“Sorry!” I blurt out as I try to push myself off his chest.

Boy, his pecs are firm. Everything about him looks to be that way.

I straighten and regain my balance, but he doesn’t let me go right away. He keeps hold of my upper arms for a few extra seconds before he finally releases me.

“I’m so sorry.” Shuffling back a few steps, I drop my eyes to the ground for a few seconds, sure he’s going to yell at me any second. He doesn’t look pleased. Shoot. I’m rarely clumsy. Why now?

When he doesn’t say anything, I’m not sure what else to do, so I turn around, making sure to be more careful this time. Then, without waiting another second, I scurry away as quickly as my feet will move me.

The last thing I need is to cry in front of a stranger. I’m already embarrassed enough as it is. I’ll find a restroom somewhere so I can get myself together, and then I’ll return to Edge. Hopefully, by then, the door will be unlocked, and the man who caught me will be long gone. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll forget all about the rush of electricity that ran through me for the first time in my entire life.