It was a typical crowd, and the girls milled about easily. At least, they started to. The usual crowd was assembling; everyone had their floor personality on. Belle felt a little more protective of Ruby, far more than she had before, but otherwise, it as all the same. Everything was the same, and that comfort was enough to keep her going despite her sore feet and awkwardly angled bunny ears.
She thought she was doing well, anyway, and having a good night until Belle saw, in her section, as always, was Mr. Gold. He was sitting with older men tonight, none of the younger from the previous day and Belle felt… relieved, but also like a rock had dropped in the pit of her stomach.
It was time to be professional. Belle put on her best smile, strolling up to the table, "Good evening gentlemen – I'm Bunny B-" Mr. Gold waved his hand and Belle silenced herself immediately. Her eyes bugged and she bit the inside of her lip to keep from making a sound that would be less than human at the embarrassment, she maintained her smile though – be pleasant, she reminded herself, you catch flies with honey, not vinegar.
"Scotch," he said plainly, and Belle nodded, at the order. His hand dropped onto the head of his cane and his eyes were trained on her, one eyebrow rising. He didn't need to ask her why she was still here, she could see it all over her features.
She had to ask though, and smiled wider, despite the fact she wanted to crawl into her skin. "Anything else I can get you gentlemen? Something to eat, maybe? Or anything to accompany your scotch?"
It seemed the men at the table, whoever they were, weren't going to say anything, and they all looked to Mr. Gold for his opinion on the matter. "Just scotch, Belle." And that was that. Belle nodded, outwardly cheerful, and bounced away – which turned into a stiff jog when she was out of view.
A shiver ran down her spine when she finally processed the whole thing. She was just doing her job; there was no need to be rude to her. Belle didn't appreciate it, but she figured it just fit with his role here. He was the big bad guy, the one that everyone cowered in front of. Maybe it why he was pushing her, because she had to smile anyway: he couldn't stand it. That had to be it, yes.
It only made sense, based on his increasing shortness with her.
Belle resolved that she would smile all the more. Yes, that would be how she would do it. And when she approached the bar with the order, she didn't say much to Sean: he wasn't looking particularly pleased either, must not have resolved it with Ashley yet. Maybe they would have to talk some sense into the girl – the bartender was miserable. When he finished pouring, she took the tray and headed back to the table, as bubbly and smiley as ever. "Sorry for the wait, gentlemen," she beamed, and gave each of them, individually their drinks.
She lingered over the shoulder of Mr. Gold, hoping some of her positive energy might rub off on him, and she saw his shoulders tense under his impeccable suit. Alright maybe not the best way to go, but it was too late for any other choice. She started to move away, "Belle," he practically growled out, and she stopped.
"Yes, Mr. Gold? Do you need something?" Accommodating, pleasant, everything she was trained to be with a patron who seemed on edge. Bunnies were there to make them smile, to give an escape.
That's what she was here for, and she smiled at Mr. Gold, when it appeared he was so concentrated on being inconsiderately rude. "Is this Johnnie Walker?" his voice was gravel and Belle could practically feel it scraping down her spine.
She remembered her resolve: smile. "Of course, Sir," she said with confidence. It was Mr. Gold's favorite, everyone knew that and when she put Gold at the top of the tab what to pour. No one made mistakes when it came to him, and he nodded gruffly at her. For some reason, Belle did not think that was actually what he wanted, but she wouldn't press, and she continued around the table with the rest of the glasses.
There were comments, of course, but nothing Belle couldn't smile off and flirt away without too much of a thought. These older guys, they weren't in it to really bother her, and most of them had on wedding rings. Even if didn't mean anything to them, it meant something to her. In fact, the only one with a bare ring finger at the table was Mr. Gold, and that would hardly come as a shock to most people. He was known for his good work, not his charm, and Belle doubted even a gold digger (appropriate) would be fitting for a man like that. He was very much an Ebeneezer Scrooge figure, at least she thought so.
The scenario played in her head as she left the table and walked to her different tables, her mind stuck on the imaginary life of Mr. Gold before he became involved in whatever it was he was actually involved in, and maybe had a life. Probably a law student, hinging all his hopes on it, a girlfriend, maybe, waiting for the question, but he was too absorbed, too interested in making money, in getting influence, that she was neglected, and then she'd be gone – and it was all very Ghost of Christmas past, really.
Her dreamy ideas about the lives of others didn't matter much though, in the face of what was really going on, anyway, and Belle had to act her part, carrying trays and doing whatever else, delivering food, picking up checks, all the things that would have made this a regular waitressing job, except for the bunny accessories and very forward guests, but even then, she'd encountered that waitressing at a day place too. Tips were better here, at least that difference made Belle's life easier.
She made it through the first half of the shift though, with her daydreams and cheerful smiles before she could take her first break in the back. Regina was there, standing at the doorway and Belle paused before she continued to enter. Her sticky sweet smile spread and Belle greeted, "Hello Regina," a little more sheepishly than she thought she would.
"Do you have a minute, Belle?" Regina did not really ask. Belle needed to make a minute, despite the fact her feet were killing her and all she wanted to do was douse them in the ice water, just for a second after Ashley was done. Nodding, Belle tried not to look too longingly at the ice baths, and instead turned her gaze to Regina. "Good," she smiled. "To my office, if you please."
Belle felt a sense of dread as Regina turned on her heel and started away from the other girls. She gave a baleful look over her shoulder, and the other girls shrugged, having no idea what was going to happen. Every horrific scenario went through Belle's mind and she imagined getting fired, thrown out onto the street without even getting a chance to change or explain herself. She'd be dropped like a hot potato, and then she'd have to go back to Macy's and the diner, and they'd get thrown out of the apartment – her mind was running away with her before they even got to the door and Regina held it open for her, "Thank you," she breathed, bustling forward on her toes and perched on the very edge of the seat in front of the desk, so she wouldn't squish her tail.
Regina was much more methodical about her movements, and she moved slowly behind the desk, sat with purpose, and folded her hands deliberately. "I don't suppose you know why you're here."
Belle shook her head, shaking in her heels. She tried to look confident, but it was fairly impossible when Regina looked so calm and collected and she had no idea what she was doing in the office. "Well," Regina continued, "for one, I'm glad you submitted. For two, I'd like to move you off of serving tables. Try something new for the rest of the evening."
Belle blinked. That wasn't what she expected. "Did I do something wrong?" she asked, feeling inadequate for the longest moment.
She was lucky enough though, that Regina did not leave her waiting too long. "Not at all, Belle," she laughed, though Belle couldn't see any actual mirth in her eyes. She didn't know what to make of it. "I was just watching the floor and thought you might like a different routine."
Belle wasn't sure if this was some sort of trick. Was she supposed to ask why? Why she supposed to keep silent? She didn't want to, it wasn't in her nature, and Belle took a deep breath. "What would give you that idea, Regina?" she asked, a little too much sugar in her voice, hoping for a straight answer.
It appeared the honey on the her tongue was enough to draw Regina into telling her what she wanted to know, and the woman let out a breathy sort of chuckle. "Mr. Gold has been giving you a hard time, dear. He's not the most agreeable patron. I would hate to have you continue under that scrutiny."
Belle was surprised. Regina's job, as she put it, was to make sure everyone was taken care of, but had she been watching that closely? And why? Perhaps there was more to it than Belle knew, but that wasn't the point. Belle didn't shirk, she didn't just give up, particularly when it was now her mission to get the man to lighten up and enjoy the place for what it was. He wouldn't come so often if he didn't like something about it after all. "Oh, thank you for the concern, Regina," Belle smiled, "but I'm quite alright. I don't mind."
That was not what Regina expected: her expression gave it all away. Belle wasn't sure what the woman was looking for, but it was not that answer. She closed her hanging mouth though, and cleared her throat, as though everything was perfectly fine – Belle had a sneaking suspicion it was not, and she put on that false smile again. "Are you sure? Winifred has already agreed to switch, if you'd prefer that."
"Oh, I'm fine, Regina," she smiled, folding her hands in her lap just so. "Really, it's not so bad. Everyone else in my section is fine. If I couldn't handle one grouchy guest, what kind of bunny would I be?" she laughed softly and Regina lips upward, despite the look of displeasure on her lips.
She sighed, "I just don't want you to be put in a position you're not comfortable with."
If that was the case, Belle thought almost sighing out loud, she would have been following her around the previous night. It certainly wasn't Mr. Gold who put her in an uncomfortable spot. He had been the one to help her, if she was being honest. No, she was quite comfortable where she was, even if he was stodgy. "I really appreciate the concern, Regina, but I'm all set. Thank you, though, for offering. It was very generous of you."
It appeared to placate her enough so that she mulled her jaw and picked up her hand to wave her off. "Very well. If you change your mind, let Winifred know."
"I will, Regina." She pushed herself up from the chair and smiled, smoothing down the front of her suit. "See you at the end of the night; I look forward to hearing the outcome of the contest." She smiled and Regina bent over the desk, scribbling something down, nodding to her.
That was quite enough of that, and her break was over. She had to get back on the floor, so she grabbed her tray from the floor and walked back out; making a b-line straight for the table she was supposedly being watched for. Regina's words and Mr. Gold being surly were the main motivators at this point, and she held the black tray on her hip.
They were engaged in a conversation, nothing Belle found interesting, but they didn't seem to notice her at first.
" – the money is clean."
"It better be, and the Cadi is gone too."
Belle didn't know what she was listening to, but when they realized she was standing there, all six pairs of eyes trained on her with such intensity that she backed up a step. "Belle," Mr. Gold's voice rumbled up from his chest and his eyes blazed. He looked like he was going to devour her.
"Sorry to interrupt you, gentlemen," she smiled nervously, eyes lighting from one person to the next; not wanting to stay trained anywhere too long. "Just wondering if you could use some refills." The small space they occupied seemed to vibrate with tension, and not a good sort of tension. There was an immediate distrust and she gulped, wondering if she had made the right choice. "I'll just… bring some more Scotch," her smile quivered under their scrutiny and Belle scurried off, one hand on her forehead trying to process.
Her break hadn't really been a break and she didn't know what she had overheard. They looked so angry, and Gold's eyes bore into her like she might light on fire. Her rotten luck was not getting any better.
Taking the drinks from Sean, she smiled a little bit, and then walked back, slower this time, waiting to see the lull in conversation – one man now apparently charged with keeping an eye out for her made some kind of hand motion and they all silenced, then stilled. Belle approached carefully and smiled softly, not wanting to make waves. "I'll be out of your hair in a moment," she eased, and placed each glass down with shaking hands.
They did not speak as she rounded the table, handing out the drinks and the chilly atmosphere made her stomach twist in the most uncomfortable way possible. Nothing good could come of this. Regina had tried to take her out of it and her own pig-headedness was going to get her in trouble. Of course, if it wasn't her, it would have been Winifred. She licked her lips: she was fending for herself; she could handle a piece of a conversation she probably wasn't supposed to hear. She didn't even know what it meant, or what context it was in.
She slipped away from the table with another small smile and couldn't have gotten away fast enough. When she looked back, for whatever reason, she saw Regina hovering in the background. She looked strangely pleased, like she expected something and Belle had to put on the brightest smile she could manage. She didn't want to show the inner terror bubbling up in her chest.
The smile called the fierce woman off and Belle sighed with relief. It didn't look like anyone else was on the floor – no one who would rat her out and Belle just had to go outside. She put her tray behind the bar and ran backstage, grabbing her coat and tossing her bunny ears on the counter. She couldn't wear them outside; it was like a beacon for the unsavory. At the confused look of some of the other girls, "Smoke break," she lied easily, and they seemed to understand.
Belle exited through the back, down the narrow stairwell and into the alley where the girls always took their breaks. The alley was empty, outside of her, and she leaned against the brick wall with a heavy sigh. Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes, wrapping her knee length coat around her. "Oh God," she murmured, scrunching her face tight, licking her lips. Lipstick be damned, she was nervous.
It was easy to be nervous outside, without the eyes of everyone resting on her. She didn't have to put up a wall and keep up a smile. It was just outside, and she was glad to breathe and feel a breeze on her cheeks. It was just good to take a deep breath of cool air in through her nose.
The feeling of just being free for a moment and Belle felt better, she felt so much better –and lighter, and she knew she had to go in, but she just wanted to savor it – keep this moment a little longer.
"I don't believe this fits within the rules, does it?" Belle's eyes shot open and at the edge of the alleyway, Mr. Gold was standing, both hands clutched around the top of his cane. He wasn't smiling – she wasn't sure why she noticed, it wasn't as though she expected one and Belle's hands flattened against the brick.
Her nails scratched gently against the red surface and Mr. Gold walked farther into the alley, his cane tapping against the concrete. "I'll be back up in a moment," she half smiled. "Did you need anything?"
Gold chuckled; a deep, reverberating sound and Belle felt a shiver race down her spine. "Not at all, Belle," he grinned like a shark and Belle immediately thought of Bobby Darin, and his "Mack the Knife." Mr. Gold certainly possessed the qualities of a shark, and when he grinned – Belle felt her stomach clench. "Just came out to offer a wee bit of advice."
"Advice?" she breathed. That couldn't be good. Whatever was happening in this alley, it was probably not good.
He nodded and stood in front of her. He wasn't a tall man, but he was still taller than her, even in her heels, and he looked down at her. "Yes, free of charge," the words rolled off his tongue and stung her like prickles on her arms and over her neck and down her spine. "Forget what you heard tonight, Belle."
She blinked, dumbfounded. "I – I didn't hear anything," she said honestly, searching his face for any indication of what she was supposed to forget or how she was supposed to do that when she didn't know anything in the first place. How could she even prove it?
"Of course you didn't," he reached up, his leather glove brushing the back of her cheek feather soft. She sucked in a breath and Mr. Gold searched her face, probing for something she didn't know, and he took one of her chestnut curls and wrapped it around his finger. "But whatever you didn't hear," he leaned closer, a hair's breadth from her ear. Belle's heart beat in her chest, "better be forgotten, and fast."
He tugged on the curl, but didn't move any further away. Belle turned her head just a little, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "Yes, Mr. Gold, of course," her voice shook in time with her knees, she could feel the heat radiating off of him and his cane pressed against the inside of her calf. They were so close. Belle didn't know if it was threatening or intimate: it felt like a bit of both.
"There's a good girl," the back of his hand caressed her cheek again, and then down, pushing her hair and his fingers curled around the back of her neck, his thumb running up and under her jaw. "Now," he tilted her head, brown eyes flecked with gold meeting her own, bearing into her.
He didn't say anything, and they lingered there, his hand on her neck, her eyes meeting his, and a very deep concern bubbling in the pit of her stomach. "Yes, Mr. Gold?" she breathed, her jaw hanging open, breathing deep.
Before she knew it, his mouth was pressed against hers and the tension in his hands doubled. He was grabbing, it wasn't at all how Belle imagined kissing anyone. It was harsh, and rough, but not unpleasant, and Belle grabbed onto the lapels of his coat, moaning despite herself as he ran his tongue over her bottom lip coaxing her to open up. Belle surprised herself when she did and saw stars as he kissed her with an intensity she had never been kissed before. He tasted like whiskey.
He seemed to swallow her, unrelenting in the best way, and Belle responded in kind. A spark lit in the pit of her stomach and she ran her hands higher, resting near his neck, tips of her fingers sliding slowly into the softness of his thick, brown hair. "You," he growled against her lips, a quick bite on the bottom one, soothed by a kiss, "have gotten yourself into a world of trouble, Belle."
His hair slipped between her fingers and she gripped on tight, laughing breathily as he took a step closer, pressing his chest against hers with a pressure she hadn't anticipated, but certainly didn't mind. "Have I?" she asked, the right corner of her lip pulling into a soft smile before he leaned down and gave her another rough, demanding kiss.
George had never kissed her like this – like he really wanted her, desired her. "Oh yes," he murmured against her lips, his other hand greedily stealing real estate on her hip, clutching at her through the fabric of her coat. The cane clattered to the concrete with startling cracks.
Belle rolled her head back with minimal nudging from his thumb under her jaw, and his mouth left hers, restoring breath, but somehow feeling empty in all of that. His lips moved down her cheek, up her jaw: hot, wet kisses trailing over her now somehow burning skin. Her knees buckled when he hit a spot… right under her ear that made her eyes shoot open, and just like that – with a jolt, Belle's fingers loosened, she pulled her neck back, bleary eyed and bruised lipped. "Mr. Gold," she breathed, "I – this is – I'm sorry," his hand fell from her neck.
His expression was unreadable. Belle's insides twisted and she felt an immediate absence when he stepped away. "I apologize," he said smoothly, coldly, and Belle tried to understand how she felt. She was dizzy and dazed, the way a girl should feel after a thorough kiss, and he was apologizing, which made it feel all wrong. But, he wasn't supposed to kiss her – and it was very confusing. "Remember what I told you, Belle. It's best you forget."
Belle swallowed hard, nodding in the aftermath of what just happened and went to bite her lip, which was thoroughly pained. With much effort, he bent down – Belle moved to help him, but he held his hand up, stalling her. He straightened up, looked at her one more time, an expression that seemed fraught with conflict and then started to walk out of the alley and around the front. Belle watched him go, listening to the resonating tap of the cane as he walked. She was frozen, until he was out of sight and then she darted back, through the employees' only door and up the stairwell.