Chapter 3

“Hilary Baxter,” I said, standing ramrod straight.

I still wasn’t convinced that she was actually Hasiba, and that this wasn’t some elaborate initiation rite designed to get a laugh at the expense of the new help. “Do you know where I might find Hasiba?”

“You’re lookin’ at her.”

I began mentally tallying the difference in years between the two of us. I wasn’t coming up with a very large number.

“Let me save you some strain on your brain, ‘kay?” Hasiba turned from me and began walking toward the boombox with a swish in her hips. “I’m twenty years old. My parents are, like, never here. They still think of me as their little angel, so they’ve been parading a string of bright-eyed college girls through here in an attempt to keep me in line. You’re number seven, by the way.

“So, I’ll tell you what, Hilary Baxter. You stay outta my way, and I’ll stay outta yours. You do that, and you can keep collecting your paycheck and go back home without a stain on your employment record, ‘kay?”