Feel Me...

Martin looked up from the booklet containing the restaurant's menu to the chocolate skinned woman whose face held an impassive expression, dressed in the hotel's dress code for waitresses – a black LBD with the establishment's name engraved in thick gold thread on the left side of her chest. Her thick hair was pulled away from her face into a spongy bun on top of her head. Her dark eyes stared back with blank impatience at him.

"Your order, sir." came her accented voice again with a sliver of impatience like she had somewhere else to be.

He stared dumbly at the woman watching him flatly.

A hand snaked to his and gave a gentle shake meant to snap him out of his reverie. "Martin, your order?"

Martin blinked once, then snapped his gaze to the ivory skinned, slender woman sitting in front of him. Suddenly she paled in comparison to the impatient woman awaiting their order for the past ten minutes. He cleared his slightly dried throat, directing his gaze to the leather-bound booklet containing the restaurant's menu. "I'll have a medium rare steak – with the red wine sauce and a bottle of wine. This one's almost empty." He muttered before staring at his date, "What would you like, Genevieve?"

"The same with his – only I'd like mine with a side of salad tossed with lemon dressing." She replied, sipping her champagne.

Lydia gave a curt, understanding nod and asked politely, "Would you prefer yours like his, then. Medium rare?"

"No. God, no!" she cried, smiling a little. "I'd like mine rare. Thank you."

The waitress gave another nod and turned for the kitchen. Martin's eyes followed the woman's retreating figure; his gaze was still on her even as Genevieve cleared her throat to get his attention. Not that he heard – he was too absorbed with his thoughts.

The thin heel of Genevieve's stilettoes connected sharply with his shin with such force he doubled over with a muted groan and a lowly uttered expletive. He raised his head and pinned her a frigid glare, one she returned with a smile of her own.

"Good. That got your attention." She said sweetly. "You seemed to have been gone an awful long time, Martin. I was worried."

"Were you?" he asked with a sardonic raise of his brow, the pain she administered to his shin had faded to a dull, indistinct throb. "You can hardly blame me for admiring her. She appears to have qualities you greatly lack."

The sweet smile on Genevieve's pale pink lips vanished and her eyes narrowed at the insult, along with jealousy and irritated annoyance. "Really? What would those qualities be?"

Martin reclined heavily against his chair, a mild taunting smile brushed his lips, "For one thing, she's not a child in a woman's body throwing infantile tantrums highly irritating in nature."

Genevieve rose as gracefully as she could whilst pinning Martin an icy stare which he received with mild amusement. "She won't bat an eyelash your direction, Martin. All your efforts will be useless. That I can tell judging from her behaviour."

"Leaving already? Lunch is yet to be served." He commented easily with a raised brow. "I thought you'd be difficult to go out with. You know, after all that chasing and tiresome wooing. Yet here we are... you're leaving first without even taking a bite of what you ordered."

Genevieve leaned forward, her blue eyes hardened to glaciers of ice as she spat with calm venom, "Fuck you, Martin."

"Thank you."

She scoffed in disbelief.

Martin watched her fast-retreating figure thoughtfully. He honestly thought she'd be worth it although knowing her tendencies to behave foolishly most of the time. He wasn't going to chase after her, if that was what she was thinking. The sound of the food cart wheeling behind him drew his gaze to the waitress in black and against his will, Martin smiled slightly as she approached his table.

Lydia wheeled the cart to a stop, curiosity avid on her face as she asked, "Where's the lady?"

Martin reached for the bottle of wine and popped it with ease. "She left." He replied simply, setting the bottle gently in front of him.

"Why? If you don't mind me asking?" she inquired, plating the food with expertise.

"A disagreement ensued and we quarrelled. Prompting her to take her untimely leave." He watched her closely, "I was staring at you and she got jealous. Simple as that."

Lydia paused and snapped blank eyes to the man. "Ịnụkwa." She muttered under her breath, shaking her head slowly. "What do I do about her food? Shall I have it packaged for you?"

"How about you have the meal with me instead? I'd rather prefer your presence to hers." He invited.

Lydia gave him a polite look with a subtle hint of mockery in her accented voice, "Yet you took pains to invite her here. No, thank you. Unfortunately, sir, I prefer to have my food properly cooked before eating it. This doesn't qualify as cooked in any way. It's practically coated with spices and dripping with blood once sliced open. All in the name of "perfect texture and juiciness." If you understand where I'm coming from."

He laughed at her bluntness which lasted for a full minute and two seconds.

Lydia scowled slightly. There was nothing amusing in what she said. "Then if you will excuse me, sir. I'll have this packaged and brought to you shortly."

Martin stopped her with a hand over hers, partially engulfing it in a firm yet gentle clasp. "Please stay. I insist."

Lydia's gaze landed on the hand over hers then reached with her free hand to gently pry it off. "It is strictly against the rules for the staff to fraternize intimately with the customers, sir. Pardon me, but you'll have to eat that uncooked meat and salad all by yourself." She gave him a patronizing smile "Excuse me." With that she wheeled the cart back to the kitchen.

Martin stared back at his plate with a contemplative pause and after a while, a brief laugh left his lips. He liked her frankness.

Lydia slid the plate on the steel counter "Esiri, I need this packaged for Table 12 by the window." At Esiri's narrowed stare, Lydia smiled coyly "It's time for my break." She left the woman and scanned the vast room which made up the kitchen then walked up to a woman with lush raven curls tucked into a thin hair net, leaning forward to whisper into her ear, "Have lunch with me."

The woman started with a gasp and whipped her head to see who it was, "I told you to stop doing that. I'm bloody jumpy."

Lydia giggled "Sorry."

The woman narrowed mocking eyes at her, "No, you're not."

"No." she said unrepentantly. "Have lunch with me, Susannah. I want to talk."

"Alright, let me finish up here."

Lydia glanced to the left as something caught her attention, "Sure. I'll get the chips from Toran and we could get coke from the vending machine on the way."

"Ok."

Lydia moved to Toran, a cinnamon skinned boy two years her junior, getting hot fries from the deep fryer unto a large paper plate which she deftly snatched, ignoring his protests.

"I was about to eat that." he whined.

She gave an indifferent shrug, "Fry another. I doubt Brennan knows what goes down here from his office." Lydia leaned forward with an impish smile on her face and a voice to match, "Unless you tell him the usual way... on your hands and knees."

Toran grabbed her arm, encasing it in a rough grip. "I told you not to tell anyone." He whispered fiercely through clenched teeth, glancing swiftly around the kitchen bustling with staff and clanging of pots and food with rich aroma to make sure nobody overheard her.

Lydia smiled, sliding one hand into the soft thick, dark brown curls of his hair and gripped it tightly, "And I didn't, nwa m. But push me and I might." She whispered in a clipped voice. Her gaze moved to the hand on her arm "Your hand."

He released her immediately, his face contrite "Sorry. I'm sorry." Toran muttered, dropping his gaze to the pile of potatoes. "I know you were joking. It's just a sore topic."

Lydia watched him sympathetically, "I'm sorry too. That was insensitive of me. Your secret is safe; and I never betray those who have secrets with me...that's you amongst others, mm?"

He nodded slowly. "Thank you."

"Alright." She kissed his cheek affectionately and pulled away with a smile. "Don't let me keep you." Lydia glanced over her shoulder to see Susannah untying her apron and tugging the flimsy net off her head, tucking it into her pocket before looking up with bright green eyes and giggled.

She walked up to her and took the plate from Lydia, "Ready when you are."

"Thank God." Lydia entwined their fingers together. "Let's go."

They left the kitchen and walked a short passage before opening a door leading to the staff break room. Susannah got the coke from the machine along with a chocolate bar for Lydia. They found a recently vacated table and sat on it, munching the warm fries and coke, chatting and laughing.

The conversation turned to Susannah's dick of a boyfriend whom Lydia didn't like but maintained a certain level of civility with because of Susannah. He always made Susannah conscious of her size and it irked the hell out of Lydia. She had told Susannah bluntly that that was her nature and if he had a problem, Susannah should give him the boot.

"Stop trying to make me feel better." Susannah said ruefully.

"I never tell someone anything to make them feel good about themselves when it's the obvious truth. That fool has been blind since birth so you can't possibly blame him for his stupidity and his malfunctioned, condensed brain that's clogged with toxic garbage." Lydia replied smartly.

Susannah watched her closely with thoughtful silence. Lydia's bluntness had gotten her into an altercation with Brennan a while ago which had her almost fired on the spot. It had taken her a long time and a series of pleading on Susannah's part for Brennan to take her back. He had apologized and Lydia did too – both level-headed enough to look each other in the eye cordially.

"You wanted to talk to me about something?" she prompted.

Lydia's face brightened. "Ehen... thank you for reminding me, o jare. A man and a woman came by today... a date, I think. I got their orders and left to tell Julia. When I came back with their order, the lady had left which was appalling since she was just there for like, give or take, ten minutes before she vanished. I asked the man where she had gone and he simply said: 'We had an argument so she left.' Can you imagine?"

Susannah frowned slightly in thought, "Why did they argue?"

Lydia pushed her empty coke can aside with a mild look of disgust, "He said it was because of me. I asked him what I should do about her order, if he'd like it packaged. He told me to have the meal with him and I told him 'No!' point-blank. I prefer my meat thoroughly cooked; not one still dripping with blood. At times people appall me, the choices we make... sometimes I wish we were created without free-will."

Susannah smiled at Lydia's words, her emerald eyes soft in thought, "I don't think He wanted puppets for children, hence the free-will."

Lydia scoffed. "We're better off without it. The world would be a less shitty place than it already is."

Susannah nodded slowly with a small smile, "I think you're wrong."

Lydia watched her and a slow smile inched her lips, stretching it into a grin, then a laugh, "You want me and you to argue here, abi?"

Susannah chuckled, "No. Not here. When we get home, maybe."

Both women laughed heartily. Lydia took the bar of chocolate and tore it open then divided it, pushing the other half to Susannah who stared at it with reluctant longing.

"Oga, eat it. Nothing will happen to you." She pushed the treat closer to her. "Eat."

Susannah stared at the wrapper then reached for it reluctantly, noticing that Lydia didn't share it equally; hers was a tiny bit bigger. "This isn't equal... mine's a bit bigger."

Lydia widened her eyes briefly with feigned surprise all the same stuffing the rest of her treat into her mouth with a toothy grin before Susannah could think of switching it. "Ezịokwu? I had no idea o."

Susannah chuckled, shaking her head as she took a bite of the bar with secret relish.

"Brennan, I need a handful of your staff this weekend." Martin said quietly, watching Brennan Rox in front of him.

Brennan glanced up from his paperwork. "Whatever for?"

Martin shrugged. "I have an event at home. Rahvel's engagement party." He said with an eye roll at the knowing grin on his friend's face.

"When?" Brennan asked returning his gaze to the large heap of paperwork in front of him.

"This Sunday."

Brennan nodded slowly, flipping through the papers, his eyes never leaving any details behind. "I'll see what I can do. A handful... twenty of my staff should do, yes?"

"Yes." Martin said after a contemplative pause.

"Then it's done. I'll email their info to you so you can see if they suit your standards."

Martin nodded briefly, turning his gaze to the orange origami crane in his hand as he toyed with the wings. "There's someone I want included on the list."

"Yeah? And who would that be?" came Brennan's distracted question.

"I don't know her name but I can describe her." He replied. "She's a dark chocolate woman with a foreign accent; average height, with spongy dark brown hair and dark chocolate eyes."

The description succeeded in drawing Brennan's gaze from across the clustered, polished mahogany table. "Lydia?" he asked with a frown, dropping his pen.

"That's her name?" Martin said with a small smile.

Brennan folded his elegant fingers together and dropped his chin on it, watching his friend thoughtfully. "Why the sudden interest in my staff?"

"There's none. I just want her included on the list." He replied flippantly.

Brennan shook his head slowly, his dark green eyes grim. "I'm sorry, but she doesn't work on Sundays."

Martin scowled. "Why?"

He shrugged mildly. "It's no business of mine to inquire about personal matters of my staff. She requested and certain conditions were met so I granted her leave."

An amused frown crowned Martin's face as he placed the crane back on the desk. "I just want her included, Brennan." He muttered, glancing at his watch before rising. "I trust you to make that happen."

Brennan said nothing, watching him gravely. He watched Martin leave his office, wondering what was on his friend's mind. Nevertheless, he reached for the office phone with a sigh and punched a number.

The receiver answered immediately. "Yes, Mr. Rox?" the soft feminine voice inquired.

"Send Lydia to my office, Lia. Thank you."

"Right away, sir."

*

Lydia was one step out of the hotel when Lia's frantic voice rang behind her, stopping her effectively.

"Lydia! Wait!"

Lydia turned to see the slim strawberry blonde, blue eyed woman running towards her as awkward as her high, thin-heeled shoes allowed her. Lydia closed the space between them to save Lia the stress and a broken toenail later.

"Oh... thank you. Shit, I almost lost you." Lia panted.

Lydia watched her with concern. "What's the matter?"

Lia finally regained her breath. "Mr. Rox wants to see you in his office."

Lydia's frown deepened. "Why?"

"He didn't say."

Lydia paused then nodded. "Okay, thanks."

She crossed the reception then took the elevator to the third floor, walked past the hallway and stopped in front of the heavy double blackwood doors with a golden plate with the word 'Hotelier' engraved in black print at the center and knocked.

A deep voice beckoned her in from behind the closed doors and she entered, closing the door silently behind her. The large room was decorated in earthy tones and burgundy, tasteful and oozing of masculine elegance just like its owner. Two black gold framed chairs, antique yet sturdy in nature sat in front of an equally polished mahogany desk presently cluttered with paperwork – yet strangely organized.

Behind it sat a tall, broad-shouldered man with untameably curly dark blonde hair which fell in a curly fringe over his forest green eyes; dressed in an immaculately crisp white shirt and coal black waistcoat with the cuffs his white shirt buttoned stiffly at the wrists, exposing no skin save his hands.

Brennan, a workaholic if you will, was a disciplined man who had and maintained a genuine, cordial relationship with all those under his employ and attracted immediate respect from all who knew him, having this... untouchable air around him. He never fraternized intimately with his employees. Or so she thought until that time she accidentally walked into Toran tangled with him in a heated – "You sent for me, sir." She inquired politely, shaking her head from her thoughts.

He looked up with a small smile. The late sunlight caught his hair, highlighting it like an angel had placed a halo behind his head. He had the undeniable charm of the fallen ones. "Yes, Lydia. I did." He waved an elegantly masculine hand to a chair, "Have a seat."

She took the chair in front of the orange paper crane and noticed the blank look he gave it as she sat.

"I need you and nineteen others for an outdoor gathering. An engagement party." He began.

She nodded understandingly. "Okay. Although I don't see why you had to tell me personally when you will still address... I'll be on my leave by then. Oh... I see."

Brennan gave a slow, grave nod. Calm as always. He folded his fingers. "True. But I wanted to inform you first."

"Okay. Where is the venue?"

"You will be told in due time." He replied.

"When is the event?"

Brennan watched her with the same blank expression, then said quietly, "This Sunday."

"I don't work on Sundays, and you know it." She said with a small sigh, reaching for the orange paper crane and toyed with the wings.

"I'm aware. I was just wondering –"

"No."

"No?"

She shook her head slowly, calmly. "No."

Brennan stared. "Is it because of your religion?"

Lydia scoffed. "Perhaps. Sunday is a day of rest." She added teasingly, "Not that you'd know anything about it... all you do is work."

Brennan chuckled. "My work gets this establishment running and my employees paid."

Lydia reclined deeper into her seat with an enigmatic smile, "In some ways, yes." she murmured, balancing the crane on one finger. "Besides, I was already on my way out for my week's leave when Lia stopped me."

Brennan watched her silently and Lydia knew what that meant. He was trying to force her into convention. It worked, sometimes. But she wouldn't cave in this time. She had seen things that made people wet themselves in fear. Brennan was intimidating... to an extent.

"I'll pay you double what I pay others." He finally said.

"No."

"Triple."

"No."

"Four times?"

"Mm-mm."

"Five."

Lydia stared at him incredulously. "All this for me to work on a Sunday. Ọ dị egwu! No, please."

Brennan's jaw ticked as a taut sigh left his nostrils. "I'll pay you six times what I pay the others. Hourly. And that is final."

Lydia gaped, certain her chin touched her collarbone, then let out an abrupt, unladylike cackle which lasted for a long moment. "You must be pretty desperate to pay such an outrageous price, Brennan."

"I'm not." He said flatly. Martin is.

Lydia stared at him intently in silent wonder. She needed the money for her sister. Plus, a golden ticket like this didn't appear even on a blue moon. It was worth forfeiting this Sunday for. "What time is the event?"

A slow smile crept Brennan's lip. One of satisfaction and akin to relief. "The party begins at 5:00pm so we'll be at the venue an hour early to get things in perfect, working order."

Lydia dropped the origami on his desk as she rose. "Pleasure doing business with you, sir. I expect my money in full, Brennan. No funny business."

"I never owe people." He said blandly.

Lydia braced her hands at the edge of his desk with a coy smile, "I know. I was only pulling your legs, sir."

A reluctant smile brushed his lips, yet he said nothing at her impertinence.