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"Oh! Oh my, well, what would it entail?"
"Well, whatever you wanted. I usually work the admin side of the club. I just had a few things to do today, and if you wanted, I thought you could come in, see what we do. We all take turns bartending. Waiting tables, shit like that. But again, you don't have to work. We're not asking you to or implying you should. It's not something we'd ever ask of you—"
"Because I'm an omega?"
"Well, no… we employ a lot of omegas."
"Ophelia served tables, right?"
Red snorts, "Barely."
"Yes," I answer her, "she did."
"And you think I shouldn't work because I'm too well-bred? From the High Hills, an OFA omega?"
"Uh… well… no… not exactly. We just don't want you to feel—"
"Obligated. Yes, I understand. Thank you for explaining." I'll say one thing for Imogen, she's very good with subtle inflection and verbal smackdowns. Red's laughing at me, and Imogen just smirks like I'm an idiot. Hopefully, she's into idiots.
"I'm not implying you can't work. Or aren't capable."
"So saying it's not something you'd ever ask of me isn't because I'm an omega or because I'm an OFA omega."
"We don't want you to feel obligated because you're ours, and you don't need to work. We make plenty and can take care of you. You want to be a kept woman?" I ask honestly.
"Maybe," she smiles, cocking her head.
"Done."
"And if I want to learn more about your club, your business?"
"Then come to the club with me today and learn a little more behind the scenes."
She thinks about it for all of two seconds. "Okay. I'd like that. I think I'd like to learn bartending, too. That seems fun, and Zach's always swamped."
Red smiles into his breakfast, and we finish eating, talking more about the club's needs. Imogen wants to take Red up on his offer to use the club in the mornings when it's closed to work on the pole but decides to dance only when Roxy's short-staffed. My alpha and I appreciate her mercy, but I'd never give her grief if she wanted to dance full time. I'd just have to learn to adapt, like Roxy's alphas did.
I clean up, then Imogen and I head into the club. It's early in the day, the doors just opened, so it's quiet. Everyone's happy to see her, and since we haven't been very careful keeping our connection quiet, they're all congratulating us on the scent-match. Imogen's sweet as ever, and after spending an hour with me, learning more about the business, she asks more questions about our community outreach.
That's Red's forte, so she sends him a text requesting a meeting to learn more about how he helps local start-ups and established businesses and what other ways we can expand Queenie's to help more people, not just omegas.
I fucking love how involved she already is.
After spending an hour behind the bar trying to help the servers since it's quiet and Zach's night off, she comes to find me and declares she wants to take a bartending course. I remind her again she doesn't have to do it, and we get into our first argument, wherein she declares none of the three of us will ever ask her again if she's sure she wants to work or be involved, and I promise I'll trust her to tell us when she wants to take a break.
"Obviously, when I'm pregnant, I'll need to take time off," she says casually, holding her hand over her mouth after eating a bite of pasta while we eat lunch in the office. I almost choke on my burger.
My reaction disappoints her, but she misunderstands. "Sorry, no, that's good, you're thinking ahead. Sorry, I didn't mean to… I just wasn't expecting you to say that."
Imogen puts down her fork, her face long and a little worried. "Do you… do you all want children? I suppose I should have asked."
"Yeah, Im, we do. I swear you just surprised me. But yes, we want kids. We're almost thirty… we're not that old, but we're not getting any younger. You want kids, obviously?"
She smiles softly, abandoning her lunch, setting it on the coffee table. "I've always wanted kids. A big happy family. It's all I've ever wanted, actually," she says sadly.
"A big happy family sounds amazing."
"Do you know if Red and Iggy also want kids?"
