Torch Song: A Kickass Heroine, A Post-Apocalyptic World: Book One Of The Blackjack Trilogy Read Online Free PDF Page A

large leaf-green chair behind an oversized wooden desk scattered with papers, some of them under glass paperweights. The front of the desk was edged with another two or maybe three dozen paperweights, all lined up like a wall around a fort, all of them snow globes. Little cabins in the snow. Snowmen. An igloo. A fairy princess, or maybe an angel. Yes, there were the little white folded-up angel wings. A tiny Blackjack casino with snow on the roof. She must have had that one specially made.
    The woman was dressed in royal blue and wore lapis earrings that looked like small chandeliers and stretched the holes in her ears to half-inch slits.
    “Rica Marin?”
    I nodded. “Judith Coleman?”
    “Sit down. Let’s talk.” Judith waved at a straight-backed wooden side chair with token cushions. I sat. She glanced at a handwritten note clipped to a single-sheet letter on the desk in front of her.
    “So you heard we had an opening in the restaurant. Riverboat Queen says you’re good.” She tapped a thick, tapered finger on the letter. I would have loved to read it, but couldn’t very well ask.
    “I can do the job for you.”
    “It’s not much of a job. Just serving.”
    Oh no, I wouldn’t let her get away with that. “I heard you’re also looking for a singer.”
    “Ah. Yes.” She squinted at me. “You’re a singer. That’s right. So it says. What do you sing?”
    “Anything you want. Torch songs, slow rock, blues, jazz…”
    “The lounge is new. It isn’t open yet. We need a server more.” She hesitated. “For right now anyway. Until it opens. And I can’t give you an exact date on that yet, I’m afraid.”
    “I can do both.” I handed Judith a phony resumé, bumping my forearm against one of the paperweights on the edge of the desk. It didn’t move. It seemed to be stuck.
    Pushing the sheet of paper back at me across her wooden plateau, Judith smiled for the first time. She looked like a friendly blue moon. Against my will and better judgment, I liked her.
    “Don’t really care about a list of serving jobs or whatever you’ve done before. None of my business. The reference from the Riverboat Queen is enough. You go see Waldo in the restaurant, he’ll put you to work, tell you what you need to know. I’ll talk to my sister about an audition. She handles all that kind of thing. If you’re good enough, you’ll sing here, too.”
    “Is Waldo there now?”
    Judith nodded. “Just look for the maitre d’. If you have to look too hard, he isn’t doing his job.” She chuckled at her own joke. Then she reached in her desk drawer and pulled out a new-looking plastic room key. “Here you go. For your room. Up on three. Part of the pay.” That was a nice perk. “Now run along. Go see Waldo.” With a wave and a grin, she dismissed me. I stood and began to leave— but couldn’t resist a question.
    Touching a finger to the paperweight I’d brushed against, a little winter scene with skaters, I asked, “Are these, uh, cemented to the desk?”
    “For heavens sake, no!” Judith gripped the snowy scene and yanked. The globe came away with a pop. She showed me the bottom. “See? Suction cups. What good would a glued-down paperweight be?” She shook her head, implying that I was some kind of idiot.
    The maitre d’ was a pudgy man with a thick neck, heavy-looking legs and arms that he moved slowly, and black stripes in his straight, chin-length, dirty-blond hair. He was dressed in a plain blue suit with a short double-breasted jacket. I introduced myself.
    “Well, I’m the man you want to see, all right. Waldo Coleman. Maitre d’.” He seemed proud of both his name and his title. He nodded as if he were agreeing with himself about his job. “You say you’ve talked to Judith?”
    “Just came from her office. She said you’d put me to work here in the restaurant.”
    “You bet.” He grinned. His teeth were large and white. Despite the grin, his gray eyes stayed neutral and appraising. “Can