Page 1 of Rescued By the Mafia
one
The First Night
“I can’t believe you got that job.”
Iris rolled her eyes at her nosy, half-sober roommate’s commentary. “I’m a waitress, Elise.”
“Yeah,” Elise said as she turned toward the L-shaped kitchen of their shared apartment. She set her stylized glass on the counter and reached for the tequila. “A waitress at the most upscale steakhouse in Newark. That’s not nothing, Iris Jayne.”
Iris blew out a breath and moved to the tall mirror Elise kept at the far corner of the living room to study her reflection. It wasn’t her first shift, technically, but it was her first night working solo. For the previous week she’d been assigned a partner to tag along with, to observe and learn. But The Dragon’s Roast was a bit short-handed—which was Iris’s personal theory as to why she’d been hired in the first place—so her time as a shadow had been cut short. That was fine. She’d waitressed before, for years in fact, and it wasn’t like she was old.
Still, she was nervous. Because Elise was right.
“You got time for a drink?” Elise called from the kitchen. “Might help you loosen up.”
Iris smoothed a hand over a small wrinkle in her uniform top. The Dragon’s Roast uniform consisted of sleek black on black, with very specific restrictions on what pops of color were allowed to be visible. Fiery reds and oranges and most shades of green were allowed, depending on the form, as they fit the motif. Servers were expected to wear neckties, not bowties, but they had to be the right colors and distracting patterns were forbidden. No gaudy, dangling, or off-brand jewelry was allowed to be seen, but the manager didn’t care as long as it could be tucked away. Iris had thought the dress code was a bit extreme when it was first explained to her, but she had to admit, the overall effect created a nice aesthetic.
She pushed the thought aside and reached up to fuss with the black band attempting to restrain her orange-red hair. “You know I don’t like to drink,” she said to Elise.
“Your loss,” Elise mumbled. A cabinet door slammed shut seconds later.
Iris jumped in place and her hair band snapped, whipping across her skin on its way to the floor. “Dammit.” She pulled in a deep breath and held it for a count of five.
“Thought you were putting your hair up?” Elise asked as Iris’s hair happily tumbled free.
“My hair tie broke.” Iris scooped up the useless thing and turned, snatching her purse off the sofa. “See you later.” She hoped she had a spare hair tie in her purse, a spare which matched the color scheme, because she was already running late.
“Snag me some bread rolls or something!” Elise shouted after her.
Iris didn’t respond, focused on pushing forward until she had dropped herself into the driver’s seat of her Corolla. Her purse on the passenger seat beside her and the doors locked, she white-knuckled her steering wheel and sucked in long breaths.
It’s fine. Everything’s fine.
She didn’t have time to be freaking out. It was her first night as a true server at The Dragon’s Roast. If only half of the reserved tables showed, and they only paid the gratuity worked into their bills, she would have her half of the rent cleared in record time. She could start worrying about other things.
The carelessly slammed cabinet door echoed in her memory and Iris rolled her lips between her teeth. “I really need my own place.”
She was grateful to Elise for taking her in, and there were times when she undeniably preferred the knowledge of having another living soul under the same roof. But she and Elise weren’t exactly compatible, in a lot of ways. There were things Elise would never understand.
Iris stretched out her fingers and rolled over the engine, finally feeling settled enough to drive. She’d been living in Newark for more than half a year. Long enough to recognize the streets at night, but not necessarily so long that she knew the city particularly well. Having a job that would, always, require some degree of night driving was going to challenge her. But this sort of challenge she found she was looking forward to.
The smaller, half-partitioned lot designated for employees was filling up quickly when she arrived and Iris swung her trusty sedan into the first spot she could find. It was a corner space, tucked into the curve of the concrete divider, which would make it more difficult to leave later. But that was how it went sometimes.
The first couple hours of her shift passed in a blissful, uneventful blur. Wealthy diners of all kinds paid her barely any attention as they placed orders and accepted trays of food. She’d even gotten a smile from one woman.
Iris was leaving the back, finished putting in the order for the only table she had at the moment, when one of her longtime colleagues nearly ran her over coming the opposite way.
“Jayne!”
Iris bit back a shriek at being half screamed at in her face, stumbling back and sideways to avoid the collision. “I-I’m sorry!” She sucked in a stabilizing breath, flicking a half-second’s glance up toward the older male’s face. But they’d barely interacted in her short time at the restaurant. She didn’t know how to read his expressions.
Scowling, though, didn’t seem like a great sign.
“We’re short-handed,” he said, as if she didn’t already know. “We’ve got important guests at table sixteen. You weren’t supposed to work that section tonight, but no one else is free, so you’re up.”
Iris blinked at him. Table sixteen was nestled along the back wall, not necessarily out of view of the main dining floor but definitely a bit out of the way. She wondered if the guest who’d made the reservation had requested it specifically. Not that it mattered. “Okay, that’s fine.” He was right, anyway, when he said she had openings. Still, she couldn’t quite help herself. “But aren’t all the guests important?” She was fairly sure she’d seen the governor at a different table when she’d last been on the floor, for crying out loud.
Her colleague’s scowl deepened. “Just don’t fuck it up.” He stalked away without another word, letting his shoulder bump roughly into hers as he headed toward the kitchen.