They were all Richard's lapdogs, every last one of them. None of them had any room to mock anybody else.
Celeste turned to Bridget：“Bridget, you were so smart to dump him back then. Otherwise you'd probably be crying on the back of a bicycle right now.”
They laughed again.
Grayson especially, standing right across from me, head thrown back so far I could see his molars.
Bridget's face had gone tight and pale. She wouldn't look at me, her eyes darting anywhere else.
What was she afraid of?
That I'd bring up that night in the capital?
I wasn't that petty.
Richard rapped the table. The laughter stopped. He pointed at me：“Tony, stay. I'll have a word with Assistant Harding later, get her to move you up. Making you a shift lead shouldn't be a problem.”
When I said nothing, he laughed again：“You probably don't even know who Assistant Harding is. She's the owner's personal assistant. A little server like you wouldn't exactly cross paths with her.”
“Even if he did, so what? You know who she is? Even Richard's dad has to mind his manners around her. You think she'd give a server the time of day?”
“Well, not necessarily. Our Tony's pretty good-looking, after all. Maybe Assistant Harding would take him in and keep him.”
Celeste snorted at that：“And so what if she did? He'd still rank about the same as a dog. A pet, at best.”
I wanted to ask if I'd dug up their family graves or something. Was this really worth all that?
But I didn't have the time or the interest to go back and forth with them, and I had no intention of letting them find out who I really was.
The second they knew, they'd be crawling over each other to suck up and ask for favors, sticking to me like leeches. Not worth the headache.
“Have fun, everyone. I really do need to go, or I'll lose my job.”
I said it with a smile and turned to leave again.
That was when Grayson shoved me.
“Tony, we're giving you face and you won't take it?”
“When Richard throws you a bone, you get on your knees and hold out both hands to catch it!”
He jabbed his finger right at my nose as he said it.
“Tony, the day you actually have money, I'll sell you my company, how about that.”
Richard laughed, then added：“Of course, by the time you have money, our company will be worth a whole lot more.”
I didn't take the bait.
Grayson, right on cue to tee him up：“Richard, what do you mean by that? The company's got a new big project?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Word is, the owner of Obsidian Club is some young hotshot that Brookhaven's top man went all out to bring back.”
“And apparently, when this guy makes a move, he doesn't do small. We're talking projects north of ten billion.”
“Brookhaven's business scene has been half-dead for years now. The new development district is sitting half-empty. Word is that's exactly what drew him here.”
“My dad's got connections with Brookhaven's top man. When the time comes, we grab ourselves a piece of the action—and we're rolling in it.”
Richard delivered all of this with that oily, self-satisfied look plastered across his face.
The "top man" he kept referring to was Lucius Donaldson.
After his little performance, Richard turned back to me：“Tony, I still remember how you nearly pissed yourself when you saw our Bentley. I've kept it, you know. Can you drive? If you can, come be my chauffeur. I'll even let you drive the Bentley.”
“I've only ever driven domestic cars.”
I said it straight.
They cracked up again.
Were the laugh lines really coming this fast? I'd sat through live comedy in the capital and never hit this many punchlines back to back.
Maybe because I wasn't talking back or getting angry, they were starting to feel it—that hollow frustration of swinging at something that won't flinch. The mood was souring.
Richard especially. He'd kept me here to toy with me. He wasn't about to let me off that easily.
