–Me: Yeah. In L.A. now.
–Courtney: Nice! It’ll be good to live in a sunny, warm area for once.
And I’m paying through the nose for the sun and the warmth. But I don’t tell her that.
–Me: For sure. Hey, listen, I gotta go back to work. Stay safe.
She knows that’s the end our chat. I always end it with “stay safe” because that’s my wish for her. For everyone who’s ever crossed paths with me.
–Courtney: I will. Don’t worry, my lips are zipped!
When my shift is finally over, I clock out and go to the hotel where I have a gig in their catering department. I’m supposed to “work around the edges” doing odd jobs—including serving people at whatever fancy event the hotel happens to be catering.
I loop around the tall, glittering building until I find a lot in the back marked “Employee Parking.” I park and hit the bell on the employee entrance. A huge man in a white kitchen staff uniform opens the door.
“Yeah?” he says, looking me up and down.
“Hi. I’m Angelika Wilks. I’m here for my first day.”
“Your first day, huh?”
“That’s right.”
“Cool.” He motions with his chin to go in.
“Thanks.” I walk into the hall. To the right is a huge industrial kitchen, full of people busy chopping, slicing and dicing. My mouth starts watering at the smell of seared meat. I haven’t had meat in… Well. Basically forever. When you don’t make much money and there are no real career prospects, you tend to eat whatever’s cheapest.
“Which way is Mina’s office?”
“Straight down, fourth door on your left,” the man says before disappearing into the kitchen.
The office turns out to be small and cramped. There’s a towering stack of black folders on a squat desk. Mina, the catering supervisor who hired me, is a few inches shorter than me, and stockier. There are crow’s-feet at the corners of her dark eyes, and a few lines on her forehead and cheeks. Her long, bleached hair is pulled back ruthlessly and tied into a knot.
“Good, you’re early,” she says. “It’s going to be a busy night.”
“Okay.”
“Come with me. Gotta get you dressed for your shift.”
She takes me to a locker room and gestures at the rack in the back. Black-and-white uniforms hang there.
“Pick one that fits and change into it,” she says, then hands me a nametag with the hotel’s logo stamped on it. “And put this on the vest. Like this.” She points to her chest.
“Got it.”
She looks me over and clucks. “You tiny thing.” Like she’s worried I’m going to faint in the middle of my shift.
“I’m sturdier than I look.” All that running isn’t for looking slim, but to be strong and fit.
“Uh-huh. Did you eat anything?” she demands in a brisk tone. It almost makes her sound angry.
“Not really,” I say in a tiny voice. I ate a cookie and a brownie from the café for lunch, mainly because Sean gave them to me, saying they were leftovers from the day before. I have my doubts about that—he did it while Eric was in the bathroom—but I didn’t turn the free food down.
“What’s ‘not really’? You either ate or you didn’t.”
Then it’s really more on the “didn’t” side, but I say nothing, in case that’s the wrong answer. One of my previous bosses hated it when I came in without having eaten, whining it wasn’t his job to feed me.
Mina sighs loud and long. “There’s a vending machine outside. Grab yourself a candy bar or something for some energy. And make it quick. The fundraisers the Pryce Family Foundation hosts are really important. They’re one of our biggest clients.”