Mr Salt storms into the restaurant, barging past Nial, who was waiting to take him to his seat. Steve lets out a huff and looks at me.
"Are you sure you want to serve him today?" he asks, wincing slightly.
"I'll be fine," I assure him, then falter as three security guards walk in behind him. My stomach lurches with a bubble of hot fear. My mouth dries up and for a second, I feel nothing but searing panic.
"Oooof," Steve says, not looking at me. "Something bad must have happened. Probably to do with his scumbag lawyer friend."
I feel my face pale at the mention of it.
"Ivy?" Steve asks. I gulp and force on a smile.
"Yeah?"
"You okay, you looked a little pale there."
"I'm fine. It's just going to be a little weird serving a man whilst he has three huge bodyguards hovering over him."
"It's a bloody nuisance is what it is," Steve sighs. "Still, you'd best not leave Mr Salt waiting or his already foul mood will get even worse."
"On it," I sigh and walk toward the VIP section.
Gareth sits with Owen and both are leaning over and whispering in harsh voices. I gulp at the three huge security guards sitting at the tables on either side. All of them stare at me and my stomach drops. How am I going to plant the listening device now? They're watching me like a hawk.
"Sir," one says standing and walking over. He pulls out a strange, electronic device.
"What?" Mr Salt snaps, "Can't you see I'm talking?"
"It is best, before you start talking, that we sweep the area for bugs."
Fuck.
Mr Salt huffs and sits back as he swipes over and around the desk for listening devices. I ball my hands into trembling fists, thankful I haven't already planted the tiny devices that sit in my pinny pocket. Thankfully, they aren't active at the moment.
Another guard approaches me and holds out his hand, stopping me.
"Is something wrong?" I ask.
"We need to make sure you aren't carrying any weapons," he states, looking at me blankly.
"Does it look like I have any weapons?" I ask, trying to sound as polite as possible. I gesture to my clothes. The white blouse is fitted and the black trousers are also tight against my thighs. The only loose piece of clothing on me is the flares of the trousers. It is obvious that I'm not carrying weapons. Even the pinny pocket is flat.
"Ma'am, we are just doing our jobs."
"And I'm trying to do mine," I reply, knowing that it's over for me if they search my pocket. My heart races in my chest and it takes all my effort not to let my fear show on my face. I pat the pocket and then again gesture to my clothes.
"I am clearly not armed, and I don't feel comfortable with a grown man touching my body in the name of 'security.' It's highly inappropriate."
He sighs and crosses his arms, raising a brow. I grit my teeth in frustration. I need to get to Mr Salt. I can't work him if his goons are keeping me away.
"We either do a quick pat down, or you go and work in another part of this restaurant."
I look into his eyes and smile calmly.
"You can either let me pass, and do my job, or I file a complaint with your boss for sexual harassment," I tell him, my voice cold. His mouth twitches and he clenches his jaw.
"Ma'am..."
"No, don't ma'am me," I say firmly. "My clothes are very form-fitting and it is clear that there is no way I can be smuggling a weapon. That leaves the only explanation for your insistence on a pat down being because you want to touch me. Do you want to explain to your bosses how you intimidated a young woman into letting you touch her? Or better yet, do you want to explain to Mr Salt why you aren't letting his favourite waitress serve him?"
Silence hangs in the air between us as he glares at me. Finally, reluctantly, he steps aside.
"Thank you," I say and I let out a shallow, shaky breath once I'm looking away from him.
"This charade is fucking ridiculous," Mr Salt snaps as the guards sit back down. "Oh, Ivy!" His slimy smile widens. I repress the shudder as I look at his pink, sweaty face.
"Gareth, it's good to see you again. You too, Owen. How are you both?" I ask.
Owen opens his mouth to answer but Mr Salt harrumphs loudly.
"Look at this!" he bellows and gestures to security. "One man gets killed by an insane ex-client, and suddenly I'm not allowed two minutes of peace."
"Oh my, that's awful," I gasp. Mr Salt huffs, disregarding my statement.
"The only thing that's awful is that we now have to find another lawyer of his skill to take over the work he was doing for me."
My eyes widen and Owen sighs across the table. "A man is dead, Gareth. Could you try and have some empathy?"
"Vasco was an arsehole. It was only a matter of time before one of the crazies he wronged came for him."
"There is still a possibility it was-"
"Nonsense!" Mr Salt shouts dismissively, waving his hand in Owen's direction. "Everyone knows who killed him, they just can't prove it. It had nothing to do with Vasco's current work and everything to do with the people he pissed off. That is why forcing these overbearing morons to follow me around is a waste of my time and money."
By the time Mr Salt has finished his little speech, he is breathless. I smile politely as Owen gives me an apologetic look. Inside, I am swept with relief. My plan worked. They don't suspect me at all. I almost have to suppress a giggle. The person who killed their precious lawyer is standing next to them and they have no idea.
My amusement vanishes quickly, and I shudder, remembering watching as Vasco's body jolted and fell.
"Well, are you ready to order?" I ask, trying to distract myself.
Mr Salt grins. "Are you trying to leave already?" he asks. I laugh.
"I'm trying to make sure you get your food quickly," I tell him.
"Can we just get what we had to drink last time and some water?" Owen asks, sighing. Mr Salt opens his mouth, but this time Owen cuts him off. He shoots an angry glare at Mr Salt and when he speaks, it is through tight lips as he tries to reign in his frustration.
"We have a lot to discuss," he simply says.
Mr Salt sighs and with a flick of his head, he gestures for me to go.
I turn and make my way back to the bar. I bite at my lips, wondering how I'm going to get the listening device on the table. It's magnetic, so I need something metal to attach it to. Of course, I have to do that all whilst being watched by overzealous security. My stomach twists once more.
I input the orders into the system and reach for a jug of water. I sigh in frustration as my hands start to shake.
There is no question about it, I need to get that listening device on the table. But any strange movement is going to be twigged by the guards. They're just itching for a reason to do something, even if that something is to whip out the listening device detector.
I groan to myself.
"Drinks are ready!" Steve says.
"Thanks," I reply. I take the tray in one hand and the jug in the other.
"Don't drop it," Steve winces as I start to walk. I laugh.
"I won't," I reply. It takes hardly any focus or effort to keep the tray, full of two pristine glasses and a large bottle of red wine, balanced in one hand.
"Your drinks," I say as I arrive at the table. Mr Salt and Owen lean back in their chairs, going quiet as I put the jug down. I look at security out of the corner of my eyes, watching them as they watch me. Of course, I'm more subtle in my observations than they are.
I put the tray aside on the guard's table and then open the wine bottle. As I put the cork in my pinny pocket, I pick up the listening device.
"Would you like to taste it?" I ask.
"No, just pour it please," Owen says. I nod my head and effortlessly pour the wine, spilling none of it. Then, with the hand with the device in, I move the salt and pepper grinders under the impression I need space to put the glass down.
I am about to deposit the device on the metal top when I notice security watching me. I bail. I reach for the water jug and pour it into the water glasses.
"How do you make that look so effortless?" Mr Salt asks.
"Practice," I reply, smiling.
"You should teach me some of your skills," he grins. I laugh and pat his shoulder, my fingers reaching down his chest. I deposit the tiny device on the back of a small metal pin on his collar.
It latches on effortlessly and I resist the urge not to let out a breath of relief, knowing that the movement was perfect.
"I don't think you have what it takes to learn my skills," I say to him and wink. He gulps and I back away.
"Same food orders?" I ask, pulling out my tablet.
"Yes please, Ivy," Mr Salt grins.
"Yes," Owen says and I put the orders into the tablet.
"Okay, I'll be back with your food soon."
"Please be quick, I miss it when you're not here," Mr Salt pouts. I laugh and shake my head.
"You're a big boy, Gareth. I think you'll cope just fine."
He laughs and I turn and walk away. As I'm walking, I hear Mr Salt let out a shout of frustration. I turn around, and sure enough, one of the guards is examining the salt and pepper grinders and scanning them with their machines. Luckily, I haven't activated the listening device yet, so the one I left on Mr Salt's badge won't be picked up.
My stomach clenches with fear again. There is so much that can go wrong. What if Mr Salt touches the badge and feels it? What if they decide to examine him?
No. I just have to hope that Mr Salt is too stubborn to let them touch him and he is too distracted to think about the pin himself.
I let out a shaky breath and go and hide in the back room for a moment. I sip at my water and close my eyes.
"Are you okay?" Frank asks, coming into the back room.
"Yeah," I reply, forcing on a smile. "That security detail is intense,"
"Well, hopefully, it will all die down soon," Frank says.
"Yeah, I hope so."
Frank nods his head and smiles kindly. "You know you can come to me if things with Mr Salt get too inappropriate, right?" he asks.
"I know, thank you," I say. My stomach eases off a little with the cramping as Frank walks away. It's going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine.
I leave the back room and walk back toward the VIP section. There are no other guests tonight and whoever is in charge of Mr Salt's security hired the whole section out. Still, I make it look like I'm doing some work on the further away tables. Seeing that security isn't examining the table any more and decide to activate the listening device.
My hand slips onto the watch and I press the tiny button. There is a small beep. It's done. My heart thunders so loudly that it is all I can hear for a second. What if they still have the detector on?
As I adjust the napkins, I try to subtly look at the table, watching for any sort of change in securities movements.
They stay still.
I let out a shallow breath but know not to get my hopes up yet. There is still so much that can go wrong.
As I am about to leave the section, one of the security guards stands. My stomach sinks and I watch as they approach Mr Salt and whisper in his ear.
By my sides, my hands begin to tremble.
Especially when they turn and look in my direction.