Against All Odds Crossroad Read online

  There was a stirring beside me. I automatically froze. I waited until the moving stopped before I turned my head to look at the adorable creature beside me.

  He was lying flat on his stomach, his body was barely covered by the white sheets. His dark hair was in a mess, tempting me to touch it. And I did – gently, so I didn't wake him. I took the time in memorizing his features. My forefinger traced a line on his straight nose, then his jaws, to his chin. He was so handsome it was unfair.

  I sighed softly. The things he made me feel last night would be engraved in my memory for a very long time. Not only was he heaven in bed, he was also so sweet and thoughtful.

  It was odd, but while he was treating me a lady, I couldn't rid of the nagging feeling that he wasn't normally like that. I mean, maybe he was like that to girls and women – being a proper gentleman that he was. But I sensed coldness and superiority in him when he was interacting with other people.

  Or maybe I was imagining this.

  Whatever. It really didn't matter because I wouldn't get to see him again. So there was no point in analyzing his actions.

  My heart sank. I wouldn't be able to see him again.

  A sigh escaped my lips. But then, I realized what I was doing. And I quickly shook my head in panic.

  No, no, no.

  We both agreed that it was a one time thing. Even if maybe, maybe – for just a tiny bit – I wanted more, I knew it wasn't possible. Our worlds simply didn't meet.

  Before I could think more and get depressed over this, I swiftly jumped off the bed and snatched my underwear. I put it on, careful not to make unnecessary sounds. The dress was a little harder to put on, but I was able to zip it up.

  Next, my purse.

  I looked around for a while, then I saw it on the couch in the other room. I rummaged inside 'til I found the red scrunchie. I quickly pulled my messy curls into a bun before I continued my hunt for my silver pumps.

  I didn't take me long. My eyes landed on them at the floor by the end of the bed, close to Leo's feet. I put them on, thankful for the carpeted floor that didn't make much noise.

  Done.

  I couldn't help it when my eyes wandered to Leo's sprawled figure on the bed. I really hated leaving without saying goodbye. But I had to. Wasn't this what one-night-standers did? Left in the morning like nothing happened? Didn't leave cards or whatever?

  I wasn't one of those people, though. The least I could do was leave him a note.

  So that was what I did. I saw a hotel pen and paper by the telephone when I was searching a few minutes ago. I went to it and quickly wrote.

  'Thank you for last night.'

  Well, it wasn't like I was going to see him again. I might as well get a little carried away with telling him how much last night meant to me.

  'It was one of the best nights I've ever had. I won't forget it. -B'

  Perfect.

  I placed it on my pillow, resisting the strong urge to get in bed and cuddle with him. Then, I had a brilliant idea.

  I hastily took out my phone from my purse and turned it on. I ignored the unread texts for now – I could read them later. I opened the camera and set it on Leo's sleeping face. There was a muffled click, then a message saying that the photo was saved in the gallery.

  I smiled. Now I would have proof that last night wasn't a dream. Not that I would ever doubt it. It was just that his face . . . I didn't want to forget it.

  I glanced at my watch and saw the time. Yup, I really needed to go.

  It took all my willpower not to look back at him. But the thought of my little sister waking up before I got home made it easier to leave the room.

  There were stares as I left the hotel. They were probably thinking that I was a hooker or something. The thought made me shudder. Even if I came to the point of desperation, I never once thought of selling my body. I couldn't blame the others who did, though. This was a cruel world we lived in. That being said, I still wouldn't do it.

  I hailed a cab – I couldn't risk the subway wearing something this short. I was working on a car, but I still had to save a little more before I could afford a decent one.

  “Prospect Place, Brooklyn,” I told the driver.

  I leaned my head on the headrest as I looked out the window, letting my thoughts drift to what I was thinking just moments ago.

  My father was a self-righteous police officer. Somehow, I got hold of his righteous views. Not all of them, of course. Just the strong ones about living life the right way.

  God, I missed him.

  I recalled all our happy memories together while on the ride home, until I realized that the cab was already on my street. I straightened up and got ready to tell the driver to stop.

  “Here,” I said, as the cab rolled into a stop in front of a classic 19 century brownstones neighborhood. I paid the driver, grabbed my purse, and got out.

  A small smile made its way to my lips. It was just . . . I loved this place, this street. It gave me some sort of comfort, living here.

  I pulled out my keys as I headed to our apartment building. Pausing at the end of the steps, I removed my pumps from my feet. It was so early in the morning that they were killing me already.

  “Ah,” I moaned, rubbing the heel of my foot. “That feels better.”

  Feeling more relaxed, I easily climbed the steps and went to the door. I used my keys and opened it. I climbed another set of stairs. We lived in the second floor – with an awesome view of the street that I loved. I quietly put the key in the hole and turned the knob, tiptoeing inside. Then, I closed the door just as quietly.

  I also loved this apartment. It looked awesome and cozy and homey. It had a fire place in the living room, three decent bedrooms, an A-okay bathroom, roomy kitchen and dining area. It was even better than the apartment we used to live in with dad. And it was SO much better than living with our aunt in Bronx.

  What a nightmare that had been. I was glad that phase of our lives was over. Thinking about that made me thankful of my job as a waitress at one of the finest dining restaurants in Manhattan on weekdays. It practically turned my life around – as well as my sister's, Ariana.

  Yawning, I went to my bedroom to change into more comfortable clothes.

  I was sipping my coffee on the counter and reading the Post when I heard one of the bedrooms squeak open. I glanced over my shoulder and saw a nest of red hair. I grinned and went back to reading. A minute later, I heard a flush.

  Sarah, my best friend and roommate, was scratching her head as she entered the kitchen and fixed herself a coffee.

  “So,” she began, her back to me. “Are you gonna stay quiet or are you gonna spill the details of what kept you busy all night that you didn't even bother to return any of my texts this morning?” She finally faced me with her coffee mug in hand. Smiling like a kid on Christmas morning, she leaned over the counter to study me. “Please tell me it was that good.”

  “It wasn't,” I disagreed, carefully putting down the newspaper before looking her in the eye. Then, I flashed her the biggest smile I could muster. “It was not only good. It was the best. Seriously, nothing can compare.”

  She made a fist of triumph. “So you owe me,” smirked Sarah.

  I sighed. “Yeah, I owe you.”

  “Was it good enough that you're gonna see each other again?”

  The happy smile was replaced by a sad one on my face, and I shook my head.

  “Why not?”

  I shrugged, looking at my coffee. “It's just one of those times where 'what happens there, stays there' applies, you know? Besides, I simply don't have time for dating.”

  At that, she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because you have a job on weekends that you don't really need.”

  “I could use the extra money,” I said indignantly. “And you know I'm saving up for a car. Not to mention, Ari's college fund.”

  “Bri, stop making excuses. Face it. You're just too scared of opening up to someone again because last time you did that, he hurt
you. Physically, I might add.”

  The look on Sarah's face said that she was ready to unleash her Blair Waldorf side and destroy someone's life. She was protective of me that way. Plus, my ex-boyfriend was an asshole so I really couldn't blame her.

  “I swear, if he ever comes back here in the City I'll –”

  “Get distracted by his unworthiness and let him ruin your day?” I cut her off, raising an eyebrow. “Don't. He's ancient history. Let's just enjoy the day, okay?” I jumped off the stool and went to put my mug on the sink.

  Eventually, I heard Sarah let out a breath.

  “You're right.”

  I turned to see her nodding, a slow smile appearing on her face.

  “Come on,” I tugged her hand, grinning like I had the best idea ever. “Let's spend the day watching romantic comedies with Ariana.”

  She laughed. “Now that's more like it.”

  Yep, there was nothing greater than enjoying chick flicks with your loved ones. Although, I had to say . . . Last night could easily challenge my previous statement. It was something safely tucked in my memory, and I had no plans of forgetting it.

  Chapter 3: Tips of Fate

  “You girls enjoying your lunch?” I asked Ariana and her two friends when I got to their table by the window, overlooking the busy street of Uptown Manhattan.

  “Yes, thank you,” smiled Charlotte Willard gracefully. As far as I knew, she belonged to one of the most old-money New York families. “Thank you again for agreeing to let Ari have a sleepover tonight at my house.”

  “I'm totally excited,” added Lucy Matthews, beaming on her seat. “I even made a list of things we're going to do tonight.”

  I glanced at Ariana, causing her to look sheepishly at me as she tucked some of her straight blonde hair behind her ear. She was the elegant version of me, to be honest.

  If she asked me for permission last year about the sleepover, I would've flat out refused. But the thing was, New York City's preppy kids weren't as bad as what those television shows and movies portrayed them to be.

  When Ariana got that scholarship to attend Bernice Richmond Academy for Girls in the Upper East Side before her 9 grade, I feared how the other snotty rich girls would treat her. Even if the school had promising reputation for educating young girls and had one of the highest percent of graduates that went straight to Ivy League Universities, that didn't guarantee my little sister from getting bullied like Jenny Humphrey in Gossip Girl.

  But I was way wrong.

  Turned out, the City's rich kids weren't anything like in the shows and movies. They were actually as modest as they could be. I read somewhere that the East Coast attitude towards money was that 'You don't show it, you don't talk about it.' Working at the restaurant and having the chance to observe rich people, what I read made a lot of sense.

  My sister and I acquired our father's ability to identify fake people from real ones. And as far as I could see, Ariana's friends were cool. She obviously saw that, too.

  I grinned at Charlotte. “It's no problem. May I get you girls anything else?” I was still their waitress, after all. It was awkward at first, but as I got to know Charlotte and Lucy, it wasn't such a big deal anymore. It also helped that Ariana wasn't ashamed of my job.

  “Ari,” gushed Lucy, grabbing Ariana's hand. Her short brown hair flinging when she turned to face my sister. “You have to try the Caramel Budino.”

  Charlotte nodded. “I've tasted that last week. It was absolutely delicious.”

  “All right, seeing that it's highly recommended,” laughed Ariana.

  A smile made its way to my lips. I loved seeing my little sister happy.

  “Three Caramel Budinos, then?” I asked them for confirmation.

  “Yes, please,” they answered in unison, reminding me of a harmonized choir.

  I gave a slight nod and turned to leave. I heard their giggles as I headed back to the kitchen, catching a few words as clues of what they were talking about. Rolling my eyes, I shook my head when I realized that they were talking about boys.

  My heart did a little flip, remembering a certain young man who rocked my world just last week. Whenever I was alone and had nothing to do, I couldn't help but think of him.

  Of course, it didn't really help that the photo I took of him when he was sleeping was now my phone's home screen. But could you blame me for wanting to see that face the first thing when I woke up? It was a good way to start a day with a smile.

  I went to get the desserts and returned to the girls. After smiling and telling them to enjoy their sweets, I tended to the other tables at my section of the restaurant. A little while later, I brought the bill to the girls when I saw Charlotte signal me for it. She looked at it for a moment and nodded. Taking out her wallet, she pulled out her cash and placed it inside the leather bill holder.

  With that, they stood up, said their rather cheerful goodbyes, and made their way to the exit. Ariana gave me a brief hug before following Charlotte and Lucy.

  “Call me tonight,” I called to her. “See you tomorrow.”

  She nodded over her shoulder and waved.

  I smiled and waved back. When she was gone in sight, I picked up the bill holder. To my great surprise, I saw that there was a 50% tip. I didn't expect that from Charlotte. Slightly shaking my head in disbelief, I went back to my waitress duties.

  As soon as I came back in the kitchen from my small break, I was bombarded by my co-waitress Wendy. Her dyed blonde hair was tied up in a bun like mine. She got the looks of an actress, really. I wasn't saying that I was gross-looking – because in this line of work, you were employed by both your skills and charming looks – but I just wasn't that . . . well, posh.

  “Please, please, please switch with me,” she begged, grabbing my arm as her big brown eyes bore into mine.

  “Huh?” I asked, totally confused.

  “She just wants to flirt with Mr. Russo, Mr. Vanderbilt, Mr. Roosevelt, and Mr. Walton,” explained Jack, another co-worker, as he came in with a tray of empty Champagne bottles. He put he tray down on the nearest counter and faced us. When he saw me, his eyes drifted to my neck. Then, he waved me to come to him.

  I obeyed, not knowing what else I was supposed to do. I came to a stop in front of him, and he reached both of his hands up to my tie to fix it. I sneaked glances at him. He was in his late twenties, looking good with his ash brown hair gelled neatly on his head. It was really hard to find someone not eye-candy as a waiter/waitress here.

  “Oh, come on,” snorted Wendy, looking skeptically at Jack. “Like you wouldn't.”

  “Sorry, I don't bat for the other team,” countered Jack, still focused on my tie. He looked at it for a second, before nodding and patting my shoulders. “You're good to go. You need to look presentable because you're about to serve four of the City's most wanted bachelors.”

  I blinked. Well, that was a sure way to intimidate me.

  “I don't think I –”

  “Let me!” Wendy cut me off, looking eagerly at me.

  “No,” firmly refused Jack. “Don't let her, Bridget. They came here to eat, not to be ogled.” Turning to Wendy, he said, “Drop it, and leave them in peace.”

  Wendy pouted. Jack wasn't really the boss of us. But he worked here way before I came, while Wendy just started working here several months ago. So there was a sense of seniority that came from him.

  I sighed. I had to do it, then.

  “Fine,” I grumbled, straightening my white long-sleeve blouse.

  “They're freaking glorious,” Wendy cared enough to inform me, even wiggling her eyebrows to add better effect. “And they're filthy rich.”

  “Thank you, Wendy,” I told her with a patronizing tone. I knew who they were, at least I've heard of them many times before. Only bits and pieces, though. I never really made it my business to know of them.

  Before she could open her mouth, I left the kitchen. My eyes wandered around the tables in my section. Not a moment later, I saw four handsome men s
itting three rows from where I was standing. Actually, I only saw three faces for one's back was turned to me. But it wasn't rocket science that he was just as attractive.

  Taking a deep breath, I bravely walked toward their table. Based on the last names Jack mentioned earlier, they were big time in this City. No wonder they were wanted.

  I smiled politely when I reached them.

  “Good evening, gentlemen. Have you made your selections?”

  They all looked up at me at the same time.

  And let me tell you, having four wealthy good-looking men stare at you makes you self-conscious as hell. It's a bit silly because I have rich men stare at me all day, five days a week. I've also been doing this for a long while now. So one can assume I'm used to this. But I'm not. At least, not really.

  “Ah, finally,” said Mr. Vanderbilt, grinning.

  I lived in New York City, of course I'd know which one he was. Plus, he came here twice a month. I've never served him, though. He was always in Jack's section of the restaurant. He was more handsome up close, his blonde hair cut short and neat while his eyes were blue. He looked like the perfect example for an All-American gentleman.

  “A new face,” he added in an amused tone. “Jack was getting too familiar. There's no thrill with what I'm going to have for dinner anymore.”

  That made me smile for real.

  “Is it the usual, sir?” I asked him politely.

  He eyed me. “You know my usual?”

  I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  It was normal for us to familiarize ourselves with all the regulars, so that if ever one of us couldn't make it for the day, we wouldn't look bad and inexperienced.

  He gave me an approving look. “Okay, then.” He then handed me the menu.

  “I'll have what he's having,” informed Mr. Walton (I knew because he was also a regular here as well), giving me his menu.

  “Me, too,” added who I assumed was Mr. Roosevelt (because of his trademark crooked nose that he carried well with his playful killer smile) as I took his menu. “Whatever that is,” he chortled.