Chapter 6 - The Temp Shift I Took to Ask One Question
The dressing suite was smaller than it looked from the ballroom. A couch against the wall, a vanity with bright bulbs, my tray abandoned by the door. The air still smelled like hairspray and lilies. My hands wouldn't stop shaking, so I tucked the folded photograph back into my apron pocket where Ethan could see it go.
Vanessa sat on the edge of the couch. She hadn't stopped studying my face since the guard had closed the door.
"You're not on the hotel staff," she said. "I know their girls."
I shook my head. "I'm temp. Beacon Agency. I picked up the shift Thursday off the app."
Ethan stood near the vanity with his arms crossed. "So you crashed it."
"No," I said. "I applied for it. Your foundation gala posted for twelve servers. I took one slot."
He let out a short breath. "For what? The pay's what, eighteen an hour?"
"Twenty-two with the parking garage add-on," I said. "But I didn't come for that."
Vanessa glanced at Ethan, then back at me. "Then why?"
I pulled off the little white order pad I'd been given and held it up. Beacon printed the client name right across the top. WHITMORE FOUNDATION - FALL GALA. "Because I knew you'd both be in the same room and I wouldn't get stopped at the door if I had a tray in my hands."
Ethan stepped closer. "You planned tonight."
"Not like that," I said quickly. "Out there wasn't the plan."
Vanessa narrowed her eyes. "What was the plan, Claire?"
Hearing her say my name stopped me for a second. I'd given it to the guard outside the suite. I hadn't expected her to remember it.
I reached into my apron and touched the edge of the photograph through the fabric. I didn't take it out. "I was going to wait until the speeches were done. Catch you by the coat check or out by the cars. Ask for two minutes. Just ask."
"Ask what?" Vanessa said.
I looked at the carpet. Cream, thick enough that my cheap non-slip shoes had left half-marks in it. "About that picture. It's from a Whitmore event. Years ago. Same ballroom, same curtains. My — the people in it were here that night. I thought if I showed you, you'd know when it was taken."
Ethan frowned. "How'd a temp waitress get a photo from a Whitmore event?"
"It was left with me," I said. "Folded up in an envelope with my name on it. I didn't steal it. I didn't buy it off anyone."
"Left by who?" he said.
I didn't answer that. I couldn't yet without saying the name I wasn't ready to say out loud.
Vanessa leaned forward. Her sequins caught the vanity light. "You came here in uniform to ask about an old photo. That's it?"
"Yes," I said. "I had the tray. I was refilling water at table six. Then the phone lit up on the floor by my foot. The video was already playing. I saw you — " I nodded toward Ethan without looking at him. "I saw him holding that envelope. I picked it up because I thought someone lost it. Then he grabbed my wrist."
Vanessa turned to Ethan. Something shifted in her face. "She didn't bring the phone."
Ethan stared at me. "You expect me to believe that just happened?"
"You saw my face out there," I said. "Did I look like someone running a setup?"
He didn't answer right away. His jaw worked. He looked at the door, then at the order pad still in my hand with the agency logo on it.
Vanessa spoke quieter. "If she'd planned it, she wouldn't have waited until someone grabbed her. She'd have had the photo out already."
Ethan shook his head once, but the fight went a little out of his shoulders. "So this wasn't you," he said to Vanessa. Not quite a question.
Vanessa kept her eyes on me. "I didn't know her name until thirty seconds ago."
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The room went still. The bass from the ballroom speakers came faintly through the wall. Someone laughed out in the hall and the sound cut off when the door latched.
I finally took my hand off my pocket. "I didn't want a crowd. I just wanted to ask if you recognized the room in the picture. That's all I came for."
