Chapter 2 - THE GIRL WITH THE TRAY
Maya set the tray on an empty table.
“Are you hurt?” she asked.
The server shook her head.
Her name tag read LENA.
Beatrice grabbed a napkin and inspected the hem of her red gown.
“This dress cost more than your monthly salary.”
“Then you’re lucky it only got water on it,” Maya said.
A few people looked away to hide their reactions.
Beatrice pointed toward the service doors.
“Lena. Kitchen. Now.”
The girl obeyed, but not before her eyes flicked toward Maya’s closed fist.
The key was warm from her hand.
A paper tag hung from it.
L-14.
Maya slipped it into her apron.
Across the room, Daniel Cruz watched from beside a column. He had sat behind her in chemistry class, borrowed her notes, and once pretended not to hear when Beatrice called her mother a walking washing machine.
He approached cautiously.
“That was ugly.”
“Which part?”
He swallowed.
“All of it.”
“Then why are you telling me?”
The question landed harder than she intended, but she didn’t take it back.
Daniel looked toward the service doors.
“I work here. Operations.”
“Then you should check on your employee.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“It’s complicated.”
“It usually is when somebody else pays for your silence.”
Maya left him standing there.
Inside the service hallway, the music dulled to a heavy thump.
She found Lena beside a rack of folded tablecloths. An older supervisor stood over her.
“You had one job,” the woman snapped.
Maya stepped between them.
“She needs a minute.”
“This area is for staff.”
Maya looked down at her apron.
“Apparently, I qualify.”
The supervisor stared, then walked away muttering.
Lena waited until the footsteps faded.
“My brother’s outside,” she said quickly. “White motorcycle, east gate. If they take me upstairs, tell him.”
“Who’s taking you upstairs?”
“Mr. Victor.”
Victor Arden. Beatrice’s father. Former mayor, current chairman of the family’s resort company.
The man who had once accused Rosa of stealing money from a hotel office.
Maya felt an old pressure close around her ribs.
“What’s in locker fourteen?”
“Copies. Names. My mom’s pay slips.”
“Your mother works here?”
“She did.”
Lena’s voice cracked on the last word.
“She fell down the service stairs. They said she was drunk. She doesn’t drink.”
Maya reached for her phone.
No signal.
Lena noticed.
“The guest network works. The staff network’s been off all week.”
At the far end of the hall, a door opened.
A broad man in a gray suit stepped out.
Lena’s face drained.
The man smiled at Maya.
May you like
“Mr. Arden would like a word with you.”
Then he turned the lock on the hallway door behind him.
