Brown eyes rolled. “Please. She’s like a hundred years old. She can sleep all she wants when she’s dead.”
It took all her willpower not to smack her sister.
“You’re unbelievable,” she said instead. “Where have you been?”
“With friends,” was her answer with a flip of blonde curls.
Juliette opened her mouth to speak when she noticed the smooth leather jacket pulled on over a pretty red top and crisp new jeans.
“Where did you get those?” she demanded.
“What? These?” Vi tugged on the hem of the midriff baring jacket. “I’ve had them ages.”
“No, I do laundry,” she reminded the girl sharply. “I’ve never seen those. Where did you get them?”
“I borrowed them.”
“From whom?”
“Oh my god! Are you like my mother or something? I don’t need to tell you.”
Juliette moved to stand in the girl’s path when Vi started for the stairs.
“Did you take money from my purse last night? Two hundred dollars?”
The smooth slant of her gaze, the absent shift of her hand moving up to scratch at her ear, said it without a word.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Do you have any idea—?”
“What?” A pale hand speared a slim hip. “You’re the one who lied and said you didn’t have money. And so what? I only took like two bills.”
“That money wasn’t mine!” Juliette screamed. “You taking that money could have gotten me killed! What is the matter with you? Why are you such a horrible—?”
“Horrible?” Vi shrieked. “Me? I’m not the one who lies and goes off all hours of the day and night—”
“To work!” Juliette said back. “I work so you can stay in that stupid school with your stupid friends, so you can have a house and food. I have sacrificed everything—”
“What the hell have you sacrificed? You’ve done nothing for me!”
Juliette walked away before she could punch the girl in the mouth. The unstoppable anger was unlike anything she’d ever felt in her life. Not once had she ever physically wanted to hurt her sister before and yet, in that moment, it was all she wanted. Vi had no idea what would have happened if Arlo had opened that envelope and found two hundred missing. Juliette couldn’t even imagine what he would have done. She had barely made it out of there alive as it was.
The very idea had her doubling over, body wet with cold sweat. Her stomach heaved, but there was nothing in it to throw up. She closed her eyes against the tears and waited for world to stop spinning.
People moved around her, but not one stopped to ask if she was all right. No one seemed to care that she was clinging to a no parking post, doubled over with tears streaming down her face. And why would they? She thought miserably. No one cared about anyone else. The most she could ask for was someone reporting her decaying body if she were to wind up dead on the street one day. Even then, it probably wouldn’t happen without someone first stopping to take a selfie.
The thought disgusted her more than the fact that her own sister had stolen from her after Juliette had taken that money out to protect her. It only solidified her feelings towards the girl. But there was nothing to do now but get to work and hopefully get through the night in one piece.
Marie Lopez, a maid Juliette had spoken to on the odd occasion they were cleaning the same level was waiting for her when she arrived. The woman must have just gotten off the morning shift. She was pulling her coat on over her maid uniform. She spotted Juliette and made her way over.
“A man was looking for you,” she said, following Juliette to her locker.
Juliette stopped and faced her. “What man?”
Marie shrugged. “White. Dark hair.”
Reflexively, her heart gave a leap in her chest. The sensation was foreign, but she recognized it as excitement.
“Black eyes? Beautiful to look at?”
Marie arched an eyebrow. “I don’t know about beautiful to look at, but he had nice hair.”
Not Killian, she thought, excitement deflating. Marie would definitely remember a face like his.
Juliette frowned. “What did he want?”
Marie shrugged again. “Miss Candy Ass took a message.”
Miss Candy Ass was Celina Swanson, the bitter hostess rumored to be sleeping with Harold Whitefield, the manager. She acted like she was hotel royalty when in fact she was the bane of everyone’s existence.
Juliette groaned. “Great. Thanks, Marie.”
Turning away from the direction she’d been heading, she made her way out of the change room.
Celina was in her usual place at the front counter, her million dollar smile wide and dazzling as she passed room keys over to the couple on the other side. Everything from her sleek, blonde mane to her sapphire blue eyes was flawless and probably cost her daddy—and several rich lovers—a pretty penny to maintain. She always reminded Juliette of a soap opera star, all teeth and big boobs. Plus, she did this thing where she batted her eyelashes like a little girl every time she thanked a guest for coming to the Twin Peaks Hotel. For whatever reason, it drove Juliette nuts.
She was also the reason Juliette could never get a hostess position no matter how hard she tried. For four years, her application had been denied and she knew it was because Harold had given Celina infinite God powers over who got the position. There were only two slots, one for day host and one for the evening shift. Celina owned the day slot so no one ever had any hopes of getting that one unless Celina mysteriously keeled over one day. The position paid double what Juliette was making as a maid and there was more to do than sit around waiting for guests to arrive. But Juliette wouldn’t mind the night position. It meant she could keep her job at the diner, quit her job at the arcade and actually get a decent day’s sleep for once. But Celina only ever hired her friends, who always wound up getting fired within a week. It was enough to make Juliette want to write a formal complaint, but since the complaint would go to Harold … it was just a waste of time.
She waited until the couple had ambled away, luggage in tow before making her way forward to address the Queen.
“Hey Celina.”
The smile immediately twisted into a sneer. “You shouldn’t be here! It hotel policy—”
“Did someone come looking for me today?”
Glossy, pink lips pulled together tight in clear annoyance at being interrupted. But she snatched up a piece of hotel stationary and slapped it down on the counter.
“I’m not your receptionist. Tell your friends to get their messages to you themselves.”
Ignoring that, Juliette grabbed the paper and hurried into the back.
Call me.
Arlo.
Juliette’s insides writhed. Her hands trembled. The nausea she’d been fighting back the whole way to work slammed up into her throat. She barely managed to coax it back down as she reread the note. It couldn’t be possible. She’d done everything he’d asked. When she’d left, Killian had been happy. Unless he’d called Arlo that morning and … no. No. God, was that it? Had he complained to Arlo about her behavior? Damn it. She should have just kept the fucking money. Her dignity meant nothing if she was dead.
Heart thumping, she raced for the staffroom and the payphone. Her fingers shook as she inserted the required fifty cents and punched in Arlo’s cell number.
He answered on the second ring.
“Yeah?”
Juliette swallowed audibly once to moisten her throat. “It … it’s me. Juliette.”
“Juliette!” he sounded delighted, like they were old friends who hadn’t spoken in a long time. “Got my message, eh? How was your night?”
Woozy, she slumped against the wall and shut her eyes. “Fine.”
“Yeah? Did you show our friend a good time?”