She was in need of a glass of wine, preferably something dark to match her mood. She cleared her throat to signal the hostess stationed at the entrance. The young woman didn’t move, seemingly more interested in twirling the heavily highlighted tendrils of her blonde ponytail around her fingers and batting her eyelashes at the admiring bartender than acting as a hostess. Connie cleared her throat again. No response. “Miss!” She stomped her booted heel so that it echoed causing several patrons to lift their otherwise disinterested heads in her direction. Goldilocks looked at her with an air of annoyance and straightened the rounded band of what must be the hotel’s required uniform. Connie doubted that the young woman would have opted for the white lacy collar and contrasting light-weight pale green blouse on a blustery Friday night. “Table for one?” Goldi grabbed a menu and turned toward a tiny table near the bar. “I want the booth by the window.” Goldi spun around and twisted her mouth into a condescending grin.
