“Trust me, it’s not that glamorous when you’re covered in food.” We finish up and clock out at the same time. “But I think Emmet, the nice one, might give me another chance. His asshole brother is my main problem.”
“I wish he was my problem. I know a few different ways to solve a guy like that.” She teases.
“You’re filthy. It’s not like that.” She teases me throughout our subway ride, asking which brother is nicer on the eyes and which one has the cutest ass. Thankfully, her stop comes quickly and we say goodnight.
I’m exhausted, but I don’t dare get ready for sleep yet. I pull out an old, dusty laptop and look up the Kennedy brothers, clicking on their bio page for my first stop.
Emmet’s accomplishments fill up the majority of the page, from prom king in high school to valedictorian to being the youngest restaurant owner in the United States. Pictures of him and his mother are scattered through the article. She’s petite with wispy blonde hair, but her smile is almost as wide as her face as she stares at her son with pride. I scroll through an album of various European trips. The pictures turn into Emmet in fancy business suits at state dinners with mayors and congressman, and only now am I realizing just how rich and entitled he really is.
After a while I notice I haven’t seen anything on Jake, and after looking him up individually I realize why. Article after article is nothing but drug and theft charges, college drop out transcripts, and even a picture of a text from his mom calling him a failure. His pictures are either mug shots or him flipping off the camera, and I have to scroll far to even find one of him smiling, and it looks like he was in high school.
I find an article dated to over a year ago about the Kennedy brothers reuniting. A few paragraphs explain that they were going no contact for several years after high school until Emmet extended an offer to Jake for a business proposal. I read several theories that their mother forced Jake to accept the offer or else risk losing all of his inheritance. But then there are a few pieces about Jake spending every waking moment invested in the restaurant. From creating the vision of the restaurant to handpicking the chefs and menus and even spending over fifteen hours a day in the kitchen helping the workers with whatever they need.
For the first time I feel drawn towards Jake. My own father cut me off financially after failing to get into law school, no matter how ridiculous the idea was and how many times I told him it wasn’t in the cards for me.
I shut my laptop off and get ready for bed, prepping my speech until I drift into an uneasy sleep. I dream about the twins so much that when I wake I’m even more exhausted than I was before my eyes closed.
Homework takes up the majority of my morning, until it’s an hour till our meeting time and I change into a pencil skirt and blouse that makes my hips even wider than usual and breasts pop. I never even interviewed for my job at Kennedy’s, Camila had vouched for me, and so I start to sweat and repeat my speech aloud over and over again. I plan on bringing up my strengths, and turn my weaknesses into a pro for the restaurant. A cab waits for me outside, and I dust on some shine resistant powder before running to meet it.
The hotel is right in the middle of downtown, at the top of one of the highest skyscrapers. I pay the cab and stand at the front of the building, surprised when a doorman appears and opens the door for me.
“I’m here for a meeting.” I hand him the business card.
“Elevator to your left, forty-eighth floor. The floor host will show you to the room.” The doorman instructs and leads me to the elevator. The inside of the hotel is immaculate, with gold trimming against black marbled walls. Everyone that walks in or out is dressed in outfits that I could only imagine touching, and it’s obvious as they stare at my thrift shop shoes and goodwill clothes with distaste.
My fear of heights kicks in as the elevator soars to the forty-eighth floor. I fix my hair in the mirrors of the elevator, bunching the corkscrews at the bottom to add volume at the top. My dark skin has a natural blush to it, no doubt because of my anxiety, and I bite my lips. My suit makes me look more plump and accentuates my curves, and I hope the distraction is enough to convince the brothers to keep my job.
A man greets me as soon as the elevator doors open, and before I can even show him the business card he offers me his arm.
“Miss Lewis, correct? The Kennedy’s are expecting you.”
“Let me guess, not many colored women go up and down these floors?” I try to joke but the floor host frowns in confusion.
“I haven’t the slightest idea what you could mean.” He purses his lips and leads me to the very last door in the hallway. It opens into a parlor and he suggests to wait here. “The Kennedys should be out momentarily to receive you.” He says and closes the door behind him.