Sweet Little Thing
Page 24

I wanted to point out that he wasn’t my boss. He worked for Jasper just like I did. But I kept my mouth shut and gave him a short quick nod. With my head held high, I walked away.
I didn’t look at Jasper. I didn’t look at anyone. I focused on my job.
Jasper
I PUT SASHA DOWN AND watched as Stone said something to the bartender and Beulah. She looked upset. I wasn’t sure what he’d said but he had been rude. That much I could bet on.
I had barely looked her way all night. There was no reason for him to be a jackass. Annoyed, I walked over to Stone just as he was getting his whiskey. “What did you say?” I asked him, glancing back at the house where Beulah had walked inside.
“I didn’t say anything to her. Jesus. I was ordering a fucking whiskey. God knows I need one to deal with this shit. Bunch of elitist shits.”
He always acted like he wasn’t from the same crowd. From the same home life. He was just like us, only he was angry about it. “I saw you. She walked off looking like she’d been slapped. Lay off all right? She isn’t doing anything to deserve that.”
Stone smirked then, and turned his eyes toward the bartender who I realized was listening to us as he made a martini. “She might be working, but she’s flirting too. I just heard this guy ask her out.”
What? I noticed the guy then. He had my complete attention. “You asked her out? She works three jobs. She can’t go out.” As I said the words, I felt like a jerk.
His eyebrows shot up. “Really? I told her I had two jobs. She never mentioned she had three. Damn she’s really something.”
He was impressed. The admiration was obvious in his eyes. As it fucking should be. He was smart. Any smart man would ask Beulah out. She probably got asked out a lot.
“Did she say yes?” I asked.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Stone growled beside me. “What is wrong with you? Jesus she’s the help.”
“You need better friends,” the bartender said and Stone ignored him. He wasn’t one to get worked up over other’s opinions.
“I’m going to find her.” I didn’t have to explain myself. Stone would bitch about it, reminding me why I shouldn’t run after her, and he would be right. But I was going after her anyway. She’d been upset by something Stone had said. I knew he did.
“Whatever,” was Stone’s response.
I was almost to the door when the caterer came walking out with food instead of Beulah. She paused when she saw me. “Is something wrong Mr. Van Allan?”
“Where’s Beulah?”
The lady frowned. “I sent her to change shoes.”
Change shoes? “Why?”
She didn’t look very pleased with me but she was trying to hide it. “Because the shoes that have been provided for her uniform are two sizes too small. She’s struggling to walk around.”
Holy hell! That was why she was limping. Motherfucker! Why didn’t she said something? “Where is she?” I asked, walking inside not waiting for a reply.
“Her room, I believe, sir,” I heard the her say as I stalked through the house to the stairs leading to the room she slept in.
I should have asked her this morning when I saw her limping. I’d been so wrapped up in keeping my distance that I ignored it. She hadn’t said anything. How long had she been wearing shoes that were too small? Was this something Portia did? I had more damn shoes than any man needed, and she was walking around in cheap tennis shoes that didn’t even fit her. This was why I wasn’t good for her. I was selfish and self-involved. She needed protecting and someone to care for her.
The bartender, however, wasn’t good enough. He couldn’t take care of her the way she needed. He was a fucking bartender. Frustrated with my thoughts, I jerked the door open and started down the stairs.
“Hello?” Beulah’s voice sounded worried. No one ever came down here I assumed.
“It’s me,” I told her as I reached the bottom step and turned right into the room where her bed sat along with the washer and dryer.
She was standing with one shoe in her hand and one shoe on her foot. Her eyes were wide with what looked like worry. “I was coming right back. I just needed to change shoes.”
At seeing me, her first thought was to explain herself. As if she’d done something wrong. What kind of monster did she think I was? Had I acted in a way that she expected me to yell at her over changing her shoes?
“How long have you been wearing shoes that are too small?” I asked turning my attention to her feet.
She curled her toes under on her barefoot but I could see the blisters and what looked like bruises. My stomach felt sick. I’d been letting her walk around all day, working to get ready for tonight so I could entertain a bunch of my friends while her feet looked like this.
“For a while,” she said her voice was just above a whisper.
“How long?” I repeated.
She sighed. “Since I started working here.”
Almost seven months. She’d been working in those shoes for almost seven months. “Why? Did Portia not ask your shoe size?” Portia was a lot of things but cruel to employees wasn’t one of them. Indifferent, yes, but not cruel.
“They were new. She’d just bought them for Ms. Charlotte before she quit. They’re part of the uniform. She asked me if they would work and I said yes. She said I could buy some if not. I didn’t have money for that. I was making sure Heidi was taken care of so I kept putting it off. Thinking I’d break them in.”
Rage, frustration, and something else pounded in my head. She was the most selfless person I knew. She didn’t deserve this—this shit life she’d been given—but she smiled and lived it happily. I listened to people bitch about their investments and the pressure their parents put on them and not fucking being able to travel when they wanted to. And here was Beulah doing all she could to take care of someone else, never complaining.
I pointed at the bathtub. “Get in there. Soak. Rest your feet. I’ll get you some ointment and bandages and soft socks. But for now, relax. Use some fucking bubbles. Take a long time.”
“Your party, Monique needs me up there. She gave me shoes that fit—”
“Beulah. Don’t. I need you to get your sweet little ass in that tub and take a motherfucking bubble bath. A long one. I need you to get off your feet and pamper them. Or I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.”
She stood there frozen. We stared at each other and her eyes looked like they were damp. I didn’t think I could take it if she cried. I was holding on by a thread. I wanted to undress her and put her in that tub myself. I wanted to bath her and touch her and smell her because I’d let myself sink. She was impossible not to love. How was I supposed to fight this?
“I’m going to get you some things. You’re going to bath while I’m gone. I’ll be back down in an hour with the things I said. You just . . . please just soak in that tub. Do you have body wash? Bubble bath?”
She shook her head slowly. “I have a bar of soap.”
“Let me get that. Don’t get in there yet. Unless you want me to come down here and see you naked. If that’s the case, I won’t argue.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she ducked her head. “I’ll wait.”
I was able to laugh then. Not a deep laugh because my heart was hurting so damn much right now that laughing seemed unnatural. But I did laugh. “I’ll be right back. Take off that other shoe.”