Chapter FOUR

DESTINY

Hindsight was twenty-twenty, wasn’t that a saying? But it was my third night in a row on my feet and I hated the stupid high heels we were forced to wear. Besides, I was working a double.

But maybe Royce wouldn’t have been such a hardass, making me work the tables in the crappy section all fucking night long if I’d worn the right shoes.

Whatever.

I’d love to see that asshole try to serve drinks in the nearly pitch black club on ice pick heels! Since he had the final say in our uniforms, I knew he was responsible for the ridiculous attire.

Sure, it was a good job. The place was always crowded, and the clientele tipped well. But I didn’t want to break a leg to make a dollar.

With everything going on in my life, I did not need the added stress of a possible work injury. So, no. There was just no way in hell I was wearing the four-inch ankle breakers Mr. Royce had made part of the official cocktail waitress uniform for the rest of my eight hour shift.