Free Drop Everything Now by Alessandra Thomas

drinks on their trays without anything close to a slosh. My eye traveled down their bodies. They wore sleeveless, white, wraparound shirts that dipped low to expose the inside halves of their boobs and tied just above the belly button. Their swingy skirts were deep red satin, barely covering their ass cheeks, and bordered on the bottom with silver sequin trim. The biggest part of the costume was the one that wasn’t really even costume: their mile-high legs, absolutely flawless in shining, nude-colored tights. I breathed a little bit of a sigh of relief at the heels; even though they were three inches tall, the heels were solid, not stilettos, with a t-strap to keep them on.
    After two days in and out of the Starr, I mostly knew the layout of winding pathways, and I was proud of myself when Ryder didn’t even have to guide me in the right direction. But when I saw a few cocktail waitresses walking out those doors, skirts swinging around their butts, my whole body felt like rubber and my stomach flipped. Not only did I not know how to do this job, but I didn’t particularly want to do it.
    I did, however, desperately want—and need—to make money.
    I took a deep breath in and blew it out.
    “You okay?” Ryder looked down at me, his eyebrows furrowed.
    “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just not really used to wearing to clothes like that, you know?”
    “Well,” he said, “opefully being on the day shift will help you get used to it. Fewer people to stare at you.”
    “Yeah.” I laughed. “I just don’t know if I can pull it off.”
    “You’ll look better than half our girls in that same getup if that’s what you’re worried about.” The blush started at the base of my neck again. “Not that that’s the kind of thing that I think looks good,” he said, his hand playing at his collar again. “I just…”
    “I get it,” I said. “You’re fine.” After a dozen more steps, I said, “And thanks. You know. For the compliment.”
    Ryder flashed me a soft smile as we pushed through the swinging door. Dozens of employees—young ones in skimpy clothing and older ones in full-cover white shirts and black pants—hustled everywhere. There was a long wall of mirrors with lights above them, and the countertop in front of them was flooded with curling irons and makeup boxes.
    A sign that looked like it had been there for decades stretched over them, reminding the employees in bold red letters, “Always pay special attention to timeliness and detail.” A bunch of girls were doing just that in the mirrors, bending to adjust eyelashes and straighten shirts. Racks full of uniforms lined the back wall, and drink and snack vending machines lined the other. Ryder paused right inside the door for a moment, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Then he relaxed, cupping his hand to his mouth, and shouted across the floor, “CARA!”
    Half the room stopped, and most of it went back to business right away—except half the girls on the floor. They stared and giggled at Ryder. I could practically see them drooling. Worse, when they realized I was with him, some of them shot me especially venomous looks.
    A tiny girl—she couldn’t have been bigger than 5’4” and 120 pounds with bleached blonde hair done up in a French Twist—came trotting up to us and hopped up to hug Ryder.
    “Hey, babe,” he said, squeezing her tight. “Where’s your man?” A part of my chest I hadn’t even realized had been tight relaxed.
    “Rob? Don’t you know? You were supposed to be taking care of him last night.”
    Ryder’s mouth dropped open, and his eyes went wide. Cara stared. “He said you were gonna drive him home. I thought…”
    Ryder’s hand flew to the back of his neck. “Holy shit, Cara, I seriously didn’t realize.”
    Cara punched Ryder’s shoulder and cracked up laughing. “I totally got ya, didn’t I? Didn’t I? I picked him up, you massive doof!” She was practically hopping from foot to foot with her