Page 19 of Heart Over Heels
Colette clicked her pen shut with a snap. “Last scenario. A dancer is on fire. Literally. They arenotconcerned about this, but guests are starting to panic. What’s your move?”
I stared. “Is this… a common occurrence?”
She raised a brow. “It’s a Tuesday occurrence.”
In the corner of my view, the bartender gave an emphatic nod.
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Had to say something. “Direct them somewhere less visible? Maybe… try a fire extinguisher?”
She hummed. Made notes. I foresaw myself being blacklisted not only as an employee, but a customer as well. All because I hadn’t known the correct protocol for dealing with penis hats and spontaneously combusting dancers.
I was fully prepared to accept my dismissal with grace when Colette set the notepad down and extended her hand.
“Congratulations, Monsieur Mercer,” she said. “You’re hired.”
My gaze darted from her waiting hand to the pad of paper lying open on the bar.
Doodles. A whole page of them. Cartoon devils bathed in flames, a surprisingly good sketch of a martini glass, and what I thought was an old wooden guillotine.
No notes.
No “interesting” observations.
Just doodles.
My gaze lifted from the notepad to her warm brown eyes. “I… What?”
Rather than wait for me to shake, she grabbed my hand and gave it a brisk pump. “You are now the overseer of a pack of underdressed disaster men.”
She released me, and I looked at the notepad again, still dazed. “Was that the whole interview?”
Colette tilted her head, considering. “Would you like me to come up with more questions? I’m certain I can think of something.”
That snapped me back fast. I was already half off the barstool before she finished the sentence. “That’s not necessary. Thank you for the opportunity.”
While I scrambled, she stood as well, bringing her drink with her. “There’s bound to be paperwork of some sort. You can fill it out tonight when you come back for your shift.”
“Tonight?”
“Doors open in an hour,” she said then aimed a targeted look at my chest. “That should give you time to find something else to wear.”
I looked down at my uniform and the Basilica badge stitched right above my heart, then nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
She started to turn but paused. Her head tilted just enough to catch me in her peripheral. “Monsieur Mercer, this has been fun,” she said, voice still light but with an edge I hadn’t noticed before. “But I don’t play games when it comes to my boys’ safety.”
Pivoting, she faced me fully, and for the first time, I caught the flicker of something not entirely human in her dark eyes.
“Let anything happen to them,” she continued, “and I will personally drag you to Hell.”
Despite the threat of fire and brimstone, the temperature in the room seemed to drop.
I straightened. “Understood.”
Colette stepped around me and clapped a hand on my shoulder as she passed. “Good man,” she praised.
Then she strode off, leaving me standing in the middle of the Devil’s Dollhouse, employed, unprepared, and already in way over my head.
CHAPTER
