Chapter 6
I showed up for my shift at three forty-five the way I always did, through the staff entrance on the north side of the foundation tower.
The service door stuck like it always did and I had to push it with my shoulder. The hallway smelled like lemon cleaner and steam from the laundry. My shoes made that soft squeak on the tile. I had my apron folded in my bag and my hair already pulled back. I kept thinking that if I just clocked in and did my work, the whole thing from the gala would shrink back down to size.
The scheduling office was just a windowless room off the kitchen with a cork board and a printed sheet behind plastic. Marlon was in there with his clipboard. He managed the ballroom staff and he didn't look surprised to see me.
"Emma," he said. He didn't move to open the plastic cover.
I looked past him at the sheet. The week's grid was marked in black pen. My name had been there on Sunday when I checked, Tuesday through Saturday, 4-11. Now Tuesday was blank. Wednesday was blank. My row was empty and someone had drawn a thin line through it.
"I was supposed to be on at four," I said. "Dinner setup."
He sighed and tapped his pen against the board. "We pulled you for this week. Just to cool down tensions. You understand."
My chest tightened and I tried to keep my breathing even. I could hear the dishwasher running loud behind the kitchen doors.
"Cool down for who?" I asked.
"For everyone," he said. "The foundation called. They want a review after what happened on the floor. It's not a firing, Emma. It's pending. You still have a job if the review clears. But I can't put you on the floor while the family is still talking to the board."
I stared at the blank spaces where my shifts should have been. That was twenty-eight hours. That was my mom's electric bill and half my rent. He said it like it was nothing, like he was doing me a favor by not calling it what it was.
"I need to finish my statement," I said. "I want to see the security footage from that night. The chandelier cam. So I can write down exactly what happened."
Marlon shook his head right away. "Can't do that. That footage is foundation property. You can't view CCTV without a formal request. Has to go through HR and legal. I don't have access myself."
"Even if I'm in it?"
"Even then," he said. He looked at the floor for a second. "If you file something official, they have to preserve it. But I can't just play it for you in here. You know I can't."
He said it kindly, but it landed the same. I wasn't on the schedule and I wasn't allowed to see the thing that showed what really happened. I felt that familiar pressure behind my eyes and I didn't let it show.
"So what do I do?" I asked. "Just go home and wait?"
"For now, yeah. I'll call you when the review is done. Should be a few days."
I nodded because I didn't know what else to do. I stood there a second longer looking at that empty row with my name gone. I had folded my apron for nothing.
I turned to leave and that's when Daniel came down the service hall.
He was in a navy suit, no bow tie this time, carrying a leather folder. He stopped when he saw me. His face did that quick, tight thing, like he recognized me and wasn't sure if he should.
"Emma," he said quietly.
Marlon looked between us. "Mr. Whitaker's here for the foundation meeting," he said quickly. "Second floor."
Daniel nodded at him, then looked back at me. He didn't try to shake my hand. He just stood there for a beat, his eyes moving to my bag where my apron was folded.
"Are you -- are you okay?" he asked.
I didn't know how to answer that. I felt my throat get tight. "I just found out I'm off the schedule," I said.
He glanced at Marlon, then back at me, and his jaw worked. He opened his folder and pulled out a business card. It was thick and cream colored with raised letters.
"Here," he said, and slipped it into my hand. He didn't make a show of it. His fingers barely brushed mine. "If you need to reach me. Direct line. Cell on the back."
I looked down at it. Daniel Whitaker, Whitaker Family Foundation. The card was warm from his pocket.
"Thank you," I said.
He held my eyes for one more second. He didn't say anything else. He didn't say she was sorry or that he saw what happened. He just gave a small nod and walked past us toward the elevator that went up to the foundation offices.
I stood in that hallway with the card in my palm and the schedule board behind plastic showing nothing where my week should have been. Marlon was already turning back to his clipboard.
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"I'll call you, Emma," he said without looking up.
I put the card in my pocket and pushed back out through the service door into the afternoon air. I had his number now, but I still didn't have my shifts and I still hadn't seen the footage. I was officially off, pending review, and I was standing in the parking lot holding a folded apron I didn't get to wear.
