I pretend not to notice as one of the security guards walks toward me.
"Miss?" he asks.
"Yes?" Somehow, I keep my voice from shaking. He looks at me sternly.
"I wanted to ask you if you could keep from touching my client."
My mouth nearly hangs open in shock. That is not where I was expecting this to go.
"Er, what?" I ask, frowning. He remains emotionless.
"Please refrain from touching Mr Salt."
I blink and shake my head. "Why?" I ask.
"For security purposes," he responds.
Well, that's not going to happen. I need to collect the listening device back off Mr Salt's pin.
"Erm, I guess," I respond, frowning, "but it's a habit for me to touch my customer's shoulders, so I might do it out of reflex."
"I strongly suggest you don't," he says, glaring down at me. I cross my arms and look up at him.
"This is ridiculous. Are you going to arrest me if I do?" I ask.
He doesn't answer and I shake my head.
"Look," I huff, "why don't you just let me do my job, please? I'm just trying to get through the night and not piss off a pervert politician whilst at the same time, getting a nice big tip from him. I'm not here to poison him or anything. I'm just a graduate working two jobs so I can put food on the table and the last thing I need is overbearing security guards watching my every move and threatening me." I let my voice become wobbly and my eyes sting with tears. I quickly bring my hands up to rub them and clear my throat.
"Please, just let me do my job."
He huffs, turns, and walks away. I glare at his back and clench my fists in frustration. Why did his head of security have to hire competent security guards?
"I'm going to send in a complaint to head office," Steve says as I approach the bar. "The security is far too overbearing and getting in our way."
"I thought you said they don't care about us as long as Mr Salt is spending his money," I say. Steve smiles.
"They'll care if I say that the security is intimidating other customers and the fact that they are stopping us from booking out the VIP section is also losing them money, even if they did pay for all the tables. It still isn't as much as if the tables were full and the diners were ordering lots of our most expensive drinks. Head office will hopefully send a shitty email to Mr Salt's office and tell them that to knock it off."
"I hope so. They're kind of scaring me," I respond with a sigh.
"Yeah, me too," Steve replies.
A light pings on the computer in front of him.
"Mr Salt's food is ready," he tells me.
"Already on it," I say, walking toward the kitchen.
As I round the corner carrying their starters, Mr Salt and Owen are in the middle of a deep conversation. Paperwork is sprawled out across the table between them.
As security spots me, they stand quickly. What now?
One of them scoops up the paperwork, much to Mr Salt's protests. I'm not too fussed about it. I know that the watch on my wrist has been saving everything the tiny microphone has been recording.
I place the food down in front of them and smile politely.
"Is there anything else I can get for you?" I ask.
"Could you kick them out?" Mr Salt chuckles.
"Unfortunately not," I reply. "I'll leave you to it."
I leave before Mr Salt can say anything else. The next time I bring food is just as intense. Security watches me thoroughly and I am moved on before I have a chance to talk to Mr Salt. I try and distract myself with other tasks, but I can't help but let the frustration get to me especially as I try and think of how to retrieve the mic.
Mr Salt grins as I bring the desserts over.
"Here you go," I say, placing down their plates.
"This looks delightful," Mr Salt says.
"I'll be sure to compliment the chef," I reply.
"I love sweet things," Mr Salt grins and winks. I suppress a shudder and laugh.
"I'm sure you have quite the appetite, Gareth," I respond. "I just hope your eyes aren't too big for your stomach."
"There is no need to worry about that, Ivy. My appetite is very large."
"Well, don't overdo it. Sometimes there are things you just can't handle," I say, looking into his eyes, He gulps, and I smile innocently.
"Will that be all?" I ask.
"Yes, thank you, Ivy," Owen interrupts. I nod my head and leave before Mr Salt can say anything else.
After another half an hour, it is time for me to bring the bill.
"Did you enjoy my gift last time?" Mr Salt asks as he presses buttons on the tablet screen.
"Very much so, thank you," I reply.
"What did you spend it on?" he asks.
"Nothing that would interest you. Just boring female things," I reply.
"Oh?" he asks, grinning. His slimy smile makes my toes curl. "Like what?"
"Shoes, a dress, a handbag," I say.
"What type of dress?" he asks.
"A fancy one," I grin. "Though unfortunately, I don't have anywhere to wear it to."
"I could think of a place," he replies. I roll my eyes and laugh.
"Of course you could."
He laughs and Owen gives me an apologetic look.
"Now, shall I help you with your coat?" I ask as he stands.
"Oh, yes please Ivy," Mr Salt replies. I take the coat and help him put it over his shoulders. I slip my fingers inside the coat and nudge the listening device off the pin so fast, that Mr Salt doesn't even notice. I try not to grin with satisfaction as I feel the little silver ball wedge itself under my nail.
I back off before Security can tell me off again and drop the microphone into my pinny. A great weight lifts off my shoulders and I can't keep the wide smile off my face as I gesture toward the way out.
"I'll be back in two weeks Ivy," Mr Salt says, adjusting his coat. "Will you be here?"
"Probably," I reply. "I'm normally here most nights."
"Excellent. Perhaps you can show me what you've bought with tonight's tip," he says with a wink. "I think a nice set of diamond earrings would look lovely on you."
"I don't have that sort of money, Gareth. Any tip money will be going toward just living in the city. But thank you, I really appreciate it."
He just smiles and then gestures for Owen. "Come on, we've got more work to do."
"Goodbye," I say.
"Goodbye," he bellows as he leaves.
I watch as he and his security team disappear, then let out a sigh of relief.
"He seemed a lot happier," Steve says as I walk behind the bar.
"Yeah," I agree.
"He also left you another massive tip. Now I can see why you insist on working his table."
I laugh. "I think I deserve the money for dealing with him."
"True," Steve laughs and moves the screen so I can see the tip.
"Wow," I say, my mouth dropping open.
"250 krenda. That's insane."
"You realise he's trying to buy me in the hopes I'll sleep with him," I remind him.
Steve laughs and nods his head. "Yeah, there is that. Well, enjoy it. As you said, you deserve it."
"Thanks. I'll go help with clean down."
***
I rush home. Once I'm back in the flat, I remove the little card from the watch and insert it into my 'work' tablet.
I put my headphones in and press play, my heart racing with excitement as I wait to hear what they discussed.
The voices are muffled but are clear enough. I grab a glass of white wine, a notepad, then sit down on the sofa and listen.
"She's got a great arse on her." I retch as I hear Mr Salt's slimy voice, especially the way he talks about my body with a horrible, dirty lust. It makes me shudder.
"Enough already," Owen huffs. "The poor girl is just trying to do her job and she doesn't need some old pervert lusting over her. You're what, three times her age? It's disgusting."
I smile. Thank you, Owen.
"She's an adult," Mr Salt replies and I sigh, hoping that I haven't just recorded hours of Mr Salt trying to defend being a creep.
"Can we just get on with it?" Owen asks.
"Fine, fine," Mr Salt grumbles.
"You need to appoint a new lawyer to take Daniel Vasco's place," Owen begins.
"Are any interested?"
"A few. None are as good as Vasco, unfortunately, but they're competent."
"We don't need competent. We need savage," Mr Salt almost growls. "I warned him. I told him he needs to be careful and that one day, one of the people he pissed off would come for him. I did."
"I know you did, but Vasco was an arrogant bastard who thought he was untouchable," Owen sighs.
Mr Salt groans. "This is a nightmare. If we don't find another arsehole lawyer like him, we aren't going to get the new bill passed. The High Court's lawyers, unfortunately, are very capable."
"Most people don't want to go to war with the Second Realm," Owen tells him. "And for good reason. We're at a disadvantage."
Mr Salt harrumphs. "Those morons don't understand what's at stake. We are running out of resources. We need the Second Realm's oil, we need their land, we need-"
"Yes, I know what we need," Owen interrupts. "But going to war is an extreme idea that most aren't behind. Sending our soldiers into another realm, knowing that most of our technology doesn't work there isn't going to go down well with the people. Especially with the scientific advancements coming out of the WDO."
I pause the recording and reach for my other laptop. In the search engine, I type in WDO. My eyes widen as I click on the website.
The World Development Order. They are a private company determined to provide means of not only renewable energy, but also use technology to preserve nature, animals, clean the air, and grow the mass food required in controlled laboratories instead of needing to take up so much farmland.
"Wow," I mutter to myself as I look through what they've already done. Why aren't they being used more?
I play the recording again.
Mr Salt laughs. "The WDO?" he asks. "You realise that if they get their way, the oil industry and almost all agricultural industries will cease to exist, right? A lot of people will lose money."
"You think the average person just trying to live a normal life cares if the oil billionaires and the politicians they pay lose their income? The WDO has created some incredible technologies that could really help combat the environmental problems of this realm. It's frankly incredible. So, why spend billions of krenda going to war, and risking our soldiers' lives when we can instead invest the money into fixing our realm instead?"
"Money, Owen," Mr Salt says. "Oil. Land. Power."
Owen huffs. "Yes, exactly. And supporting that, instead of supporting fixing our own problems doesn't exactly promote re-electability."
The recording is interrupted by me as I bring back the drinks. I skip through that section, not wanting to hear my voice and, obviously, knowing what was said at that moment.
"Anyway, where were we?" Mr Salt asks.
"The High Courts and Senate working against the change in legislation," Owen replies.
"Right. We need a new lawyer. Or we could blackmail those against it."
"Seriously?" Owen asks, sounding frustrated.
"I'm joking," Mr Salt laughs. "Fine, I'll start looking for the right fit to replace Vasco. In the meantime, you continue to work the media. We need to make the people believe that war is necessary. When the weak politicians think that their electorate is all for the war, perhaps then they'll see sense and start lobbying with us for the change in legislation."
"What time frame do you want?" Owen asks.
"We'd like to invade by this time next year."
My heart stops and I pause the recording. For a few moments, I stare at the wall blankly. A year. They want to invade my realm within a year. My hands start to shake with panic. I have to work fast.
Letting out a shallow breath, I play the recording once more.
"That's pushing it, isn't it?" Owen asks.
"The sooner we do this, the less time the Second Realm has to prepare. Plus, the weapon is almost ready. We want to use it as quickly as possible so there is as little chance of possible of Second Realm spies discovering it."
My stomach drops and I feel the colour drain from my face. They're making a weapon. One, I can only assume, of mass destruction. I also assume that they are making it with the intention to pass it through the portals so it will work in the Second Realm.
My hands begin to shake, making my writing scruffy as I scribble on the paper.
I have to get this information back to Mr Day. The Second Realm needs to know about the weapon and destroy it before they have a chance to destroy us.