Page 13 of Love Marks

Just ordered sushi. Feel like coming to BK?

Definitely not. We still on for Sunday brunch with mom?

Unfortunately. Bringing the spawn?

Anything to distract mom.

I chuckle and put my phone face-down on the coffee table. Sipping my beer, I close my eyes and let my mind wander. Despite my attempts to avoid thinking about her, Miss Taylor’s bright blue eyes fill my mind again. After Pierre informed me that she would be fired, he called back to inform me that she’d listed The Phoenix as a reference on her resume, and as such, wouldn’t be getting hired at any restaurant in the city. The news should have filled me with satisfaction. Instead, I just want to see her again.

I want to see her reaction, that must be it. See the look on her face as she faces the consequences for her poor decisions, the punishment for inflicting pain on my family.

It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t matter. She’s just some girl. Some girl that I doubt I’ll be seeing again anytime soon.

Chapter 6

Quinn

It’s been two weeks since I was fired from The Phoenix. I’ve applied for hostess positions at forty different restaurants in Manhattan and none of them have hired me. Yesterday, after another rejection came rolling into my inbox, I decided I have to expand my search and consider working in a different field.

The Miltons were nice enough to give me a few extra cleaning shifts when I told them about losing my other job. Still, I’m only there a few hours a week cleaning their apartments and it’s not enough to sustain me and mom for much longer. I’m left with no choice but to browse other cleaning jobs in the city. It’s inevitably going to be a pay cut from what I was making at The Phoenix.

Through all of it, I’ve had to stay strong for mom. If it were just me, maybe I could curl up and avoid the world forever until I rot. But I have to take care of her.

I can’t let her down.

Scrolling through LinkedIn, I decide to give up for the day. I need to make dinner before my mom gets home. She’s been feeling more active these days. She’s been knitting hats and selling them to a few friends and locals. Just as I submit on one final application, my mom comes through the door.

“Quinn! Guess what?”

She’s using her sing-song voice, which means good news.

She doesn’t give me a chance to answer. “I found you a job!” She sets her bags down on the floor and comes to sit across from me.

“I ran into Eva Gonzalez while delivering a hat to her mother. She’s been working as a maid at a hotel in Midtown and said they’re hiring. I told her you’d come first thing tomorrow to talk to the manager.”

I should be ecstatic. It’s the first real opportunity that’s come my way since I was fired. I guess I’ve just been living in denial about not being able to go back to The Phoenix. The thought of cleaning rooms at a Marriott doesn’t excite me, but I feign an enthusiastic smile.

“That’s great, Mom. Thank you.”

“Isn’t it? I’m sure Eva will be able to help you out.”

I start on dinner while my mom talks about how good this job will be for me. I still don’t know how to make up for pay decrease. I was barely making ends meet at The Phoenix. How the hell am I going to keep up with student loan payments and mom’s medical bills on a maid’s salary?

Shaking off my worries, I take a deep breath. Tomorrow my life changes.

* * *

When I get to the Midtown Hyatt, I wait in the lobby for Eva. The hotel is huge. Gold-plated crown molding and a giant fountain in the center of the oval room. I find Eva waving over at me from behind the reception desk. I thank her profusely for getting me the opportunity, but she’s already strutting forward towards the back offices, swiping us into a long, fluorescent hallway with her keycard.

“Pay is shit, but it’s $18 an hour, which is $3 more than my brother makes cleaning the pool, so count your blessings. Marguerite is the hiring manager, you’ll like her. She’s decent.”

I struggle to keep up with her pace as she explains the job and stomps ahead of me. We get to a doorway where she stops.

“Locker rooms. I need to change for my shift. Door at the end of the hall is Marguerite’s office — just tell her I sent you. Good luck!”

Just like that, I’m on my own. I go to the end of the hallway and knock on the door lightly. A voice calls out from behind and I step inside, where a slim woman sits behind a desk.

“Hi, you must be Marguerite?”