Changing Scenes (Changing Teams #2) by Jennifer Allis Provost Read Free Book Online Page A

patrons recognized me from my real career. The last thing I needed were fans talking about my new job. What if that talk got back to my agency? I would die before I let John know how much these cancellations had hurt me.
    I arrived at Al’s with my hair up in a high ponytail, no makeup, and wearing a blue sweater, jeans, and running shoes. Al took one look at me, asked if I always dressed like the Queen of England, and jerked his head toward a tall skinny redhead.
    “I’m Padraic,” the redhead said, “Al’s son. I take it you’re Astrid, our new waitress.”
    “I am.” I grabbed my apron from the cubby where I’d stashed it after the hour I’d worked last week. “I’m just supposed to take orders and deliver them, no mixing drinks or anything, right?”
    “No mixing,” Padraic replied. He eyed me for a moment, and asked, “You’re not surprised we have so many drinkers on a Monday at eleven a.m.?”
    I shrugged. “I’ve seen weirder.”
    Padraic laughed. “You’ll do just fine here.”
     
    ***
     
    Despite Padraic’s confidence, at the end of my shift I didn’t feel fine.
    I’d only been there for three hours, but my feet ached, my legs burned, and, thanks to the professional drunk at table three, my left side was soaked in the cheapest draft beer we offered. I was going to have to boil myself to get rid of these germs.
    I stomped into the office and saw Padraic at the desk, hunched over some paperwork. “How’d it go?” he asked.
    “I changed my mind. I don’t know if I’ve seen weirder.” I launched into a description of the lunatics I’d been forced to interact with, when Padraic held up his hand.
    “First of all, I know,” he said. “They’re our regulars.”
    I crossed my arms. “You need a bouncer.”
    “Tell me about it,” he said with a grin. “How much did you make?”
    “No idea,” I said, scooping wads of cash out of my apron’s pouch. I hadn’t paid any attention to the tips, other than to keep them away from the mysterious sticky puddles that appeared on all the horizontal surfaces in that place. By the time I was done straightening out the bills, I was in shock.
    “One hundred twenty-three dollars,” I said. With that kind of cash, I could take a cab home, shower, go out to lunch, and have money left over to get a few things for my apartment. “Is this typical for the lunch shift?”
    “Nah. On weekends you’ll make a lot more.” Padraic handed me a manila envelope, and I stuffed my cash inside. “See you tomorrow, same time?”
    “You bet.”
     
    ***
     
    I skipped the cab ride home; it wasn’t too far of a walk, and I didn’t want to blow all my cash in one day. Ha! When did I get frugal?
    I stopped in a drugstore and picked up a few necessities, along with some coffee and yogurt for tomorrow’s breakfast. Then I stopped at a bodega and purchased some bananas, a few cups of instant soup, and a turkey sandwich. Living high on the hog, that was me.
    I’d just left the bodega when a text came through.
     
    Donato: Happy Monday, babe.
     
    Astrid: Happy Monday to you, Mr. Chef.
     
    Donato: What’s the most beautiful girl in NY doing?
     
    Astrid: Shopping. Trying to decide on dinner.
     
    Donato: Ha ha, me too. Can I call you when I get home?
     
    Astrid: Of course.
     
    I slid my phone into my back pocket and smiled. I had cash in my pocket, food in my bags, and I was going to talk to Donnie later. This waitressing job was suiting me in more ways than one.
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Nine
     
     
    Astrid
     
    My Tuesday shift at Al’s Place was much like Monday’s, with one notable exception—I made even more money, a total of one hundred fifty-four dollars to be exact. It was nowhere near what I’d make at a shoot, but it was pretty good for three hours of delivering warm, tasteless beer to people who should be doing things other than drinking.
    Britt called just as I was leaving the bar and invited me to lunch. After I stopped by