Read Online Chore Whore by Heather H. Howard - Free Book Online

the sky starting to open up and sprinkle water droplets everywhere.
    A clean-cut, blond-haired host breaks into my reverie.
    â€œMa’am, I’m sorry, but you can’t sit here. It’s reserved,” he informs me.
    â€œIt doesn’t have a ‘reserved’ sign on it.”
    â€œThat may be so,” he says curtly, “but it is still reserved.”
    â€œWhat’s your name?” I ask.
    â€œMichael.”
    â€œMichael. There was no sign on it, so I sat down. There are other seats with ‘reserved’ signs.”
    He clears his throat.
    â€œYes, ma’am, I know, I put those signs on there and was on my way to put a sign on this one when you came in and sat down. So, this one is reserved.”
    â€œWell, Michael, I’m not a psychic, how would I have known?”
    I gather my purse and sweater, get out of the seat and walk toward the door, wondering where Lucy and I are going to sit. Everyone in the tearoom watches as Michael sweeps the table off. I brush by Denzel Washington sitting with a few executive-looking, Creative Artist–agent types. Angelica Huston sits in a far corner enjoying crumpets with two other women.
    I wait in the hotel’s foyer and recall walking shyly into the third-grade classroom of my new elementary school in Visalia, late for my first day. As I slid into my assigned seat, the boy sitting behind me leaned forward and whispered into my ear, “Niggers don’t belong here.”
    A high-pitched shriek comes from behind me.
    â€œMiss Corki Brown!” Lucy sweeps all seventy-two inches of her fat-free body through the crowded hotel entrance. She throws her arms around me and we hug each other tightly.
    â€œHi, darlin’! It’s been forever!”
    There it is again, the slight twang. I didn’t notice it so much last night, but it has returned with a vengeance.
    â€œHi, Lucy. I have some bad news. I tried to get a table and was told the last one was reserved. I was kicked out by that guy over there.”
    I point to Michael.
    Lucy drags me, lovingly, by the arm back into the tearoom. “Don’t be silly, Corki. I’m sure they can do something for us.”
    Lucy walks in, commanding as much attention as a slim, pretty, six-foot-tall, blonde, double Academy Award–winning actress can. She waves the scarf in her hand at Michael, who suddenly smiles graciously. Lucy rolls on, full steam ahead.
    â€œHi, my friend here says she tried to get a table and there wasn’t one. That can’t possibly be true, can it? What’s your name?”
    â€œMichael,” I pipe in with disdain.
    Lucy continues with her twinge of Tennessee coming in a bit stronger. “That can’t be right, can it, Michael?”
    â€œNo, Miss Bennett, I’m sure there was a huge misunderstanding,” he backpedals ferociously.
    Lucy pours it on as thick and sweetly as Memphis-style barbeque sauce. “Michael, I know we don’t have a reservation, but I’ve never had a problem here before.”
    Michael guides us back to the same table where I had sat before. “And Miss Bennett,” he oozes, matching her syrupy tone, “you certainly won’t have any problems here today.”
    He pulls out Lucy’s chair for her. I pull out my own. As Lucy turns to say hello to a studio exec at the next table, I give Michael a cold stare and mouth the words “Ass kisser!”
    Slightly embarrassed, he smirks, then says to Lucy, “I’ll send your waiter over immediately.”
    The moment he turns away, Lucy announces, “What an asshole!”
    The people around us erupt in nervous laughter and Michael shoots them a look that could carve pumpkins. I wonder if he’s going to spit in our teapot.
    I wait quietly for ten minutes as Lucy makes her rounds to each table. While she’s doing her kissy-kissy routine with all her “film friends,” I order food and tea for both of us. My