Off Limits - [ON HOLD]

Chapter One

Off Limits. Copyright to kingsofamanda (Amanda Montgomery)

Chapter One.

Victoria Putnam wiped at the sweat that had accumulated above her brow and leaned back, running her eyes over the newly clean table. It was hot today, hotter than it normally got in the summers of Florida, which was saying something, and she'd uselessly wrestled with the idea of just skipping work and taking the day off because of it. It was dumb, an excuse with no merit, but she'd thought about it.

The argument against the idea was the incessant reminder that she needed the money this job gave her. There was no doubting that. The only reason she worked at the bar she was currently washing tables in, was to support herself. It was all that mattered. Dinner on the table-- food to eat, and a roof over her head. It was pressure on her still young shoulders, and at 24 she should've been in her prime, enjoying the opportunities life gifted most twenty-some-year-olds, but that hadn't been the case for her. Her life was different in that respect.

But she was alive. She was living much easier than some, and she always held the thought in the back of her mind that things could easily be worse. She knew things could be worse.

That didn't stop her from wishing things were a little better.

Whipping the dirty wet-rag over her shoulder, she bent back and stood straighter, listening to the bubbles of air in her back pop with relief. She made her way back to the kitchen, determination in her stride, realizing that that was the last table she'd had to clean until she took off.

Vice was the name of the bar. An old establishment, bought and payed for, handed down through generations of the infamous Howard family. She didn't know much about the specifics of the place she worked at-- spent most of her time in-- but she knew enough. It was just a job to her that insured her a paycheck each week; that was all that mattered.

Her boss, Howard, greeted her with a warm squeeze to her upper arm as she walked through the wooden doors to the kitchen. She met his eyes as she passed, smiling, but leaning away slightly.

There was something in his eyes that wiped the smile off as soon as it'd made an appearance.

"What's wrong, sir?" she asked, setting down the dish rag and spray bottle of disinfectant on the table beside her.

Howard, grandson to the original founder of Vice, looked at her sympathetically. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I hate to ask you of this, because I know you're expecting to head home, but I need a favor."

And though she had an inclination of what he was going to ask next, she still wished it wasn't true. She'd give anything to go home like she'd meant to, and snuggle up with a tall glass of sweet-tea and catch up on a few episodes of her favorite TV show.

"There's a party coming in just a few minutes. Called ahead of time, but it slipped my mind to ask. We're short a few girls tonight, and I could really use the extra help."

She held in her groan. "Am I being paid over-time?" Howard had gotten used to Victoria's blunt questions. She shot it straight, and she imagined that was something the man liked about her. She found beating around the bush to be a waste of time. She didn't have any time to waste in a life like hers.

"Of course, honey." The forty-seven year old man smiled, the barely noticeable wrinkles beside his eyes crinkling.

"Then okay," she agreed. The real reason Victoria never berated herself more of her easy admission was because she did need the money. Her tea and TV show would be there when she got home. The money wouldn't be.