Jackson snorted. “You are the worst liar. I don’t know how you managed to get a P.I. license.”
“Charm and good looks,” said Devonte.
“Is that what you’re licensed to do?” asked Evan. Both of them looked over in surprise. “I mean, you’re both actually licensed for something?”
Jackson laughed. “We’re both licensed in several somethings. But yes, all of my guys are licensed private investigators.”
“Huh,” said Evan. “I would have thought there would be more fedoras and trench coats.”
“See?” demanded Devonte, glaring at Jackson. “I told you. You should have issued us all trench coats!”
“If I have to give up smoking then I’m sure as hell not buying everyone P.I. cosplay coats.”
“I don’t think those two are related,” said Devonte.
“They’re not,” said Evan. “He gave up smoking for Aiden, and he’s still bitter about it.”
“I liked nicotine!” Jackson exclaimed, and Devonte laughed in a big booming chuckle.
Evan watched the two bullshit each other. His coworkers definitely had bullshit, but most of the time, it came down to digs and competition. The idea of a supportive workplace was as unfamiliar to him as a supportive family had been. He hoped that Devonte wouldn’t be too disappointed once he switched careers. He got the feeling that having Jackson for a boss was hard to beat.
7
Caitlin
Billy Bob
The ginger from the Deveraux Halloween party was in attendance at tonight’s event. Which was called something that Caitlin had already forgotten. It was a banking-related charity. Bank Up, Bank Over, Bank On… Whatever it was, it had pulled the usual society crew and a fuck ton of Wall Street Bros and Bankers. Caitlin glanced at the lanky redhead again, wondering if she should say something. The day after the Halloween party, Vince had handed her five-hundred bucks and said it was from the guy who’d rented out the courtyard for saving his suit. Vince had seemed a little grumpy about it, although Caitlin couldn’t tell why. The five-hundred bucks had saved her ass. Thanks to that cash, she’d managed to keep the student loan creditors and landlord off her back. She wondered if ginger Satan’s angel girlfriend had said yes. In bartending, there were a lot of stories that she never got to see the end of, but as she glanced at him again, she saw he was clutching a tiny plastic sword from the container on the bar. He looked like he was contemplating stabbing it into the neck of the man who was going on and on in some self-aggrandizing story. He caught her eye and mouthed the wordshelp me.
Caitlin bit back a laugh and nodded. She checked his drink and saw that it was Scotch. He’d probably been served by Tanja, who hadn’t noticed the topstitching on his Italian hand-tailoredsuit. She decided that since Satan had been so nice to her, he deserved a little extra effort. She reached under the bar and pulled out the good stuff. His eyes widened, and he nodded.
She poured a glass and held up the tongs with a cube of ice in question.
He held up two fingers. Caitlin put two ice cubes in and slid the glass into position at his elbow. He handed her a hundred-dollar bill while nodding as though he were interested in the story. She made change and handed it back, and he dumped it all promptly into the tip jar without looking. She took another look at the guy talking and then moved the box of sword toothpicks further down the bar. She thought the redhead was laughing, but he didn’t break.
Jessica flitted by, sparing a look at the red-head, and shook her head. “So cute, so taken,” she murmured before heading back out to the floor. The event was busy. Wall Street Bros drank a lot, especially when someone was asking them to donate to charity. Caitlin watched Jessica attract attention as she moved around the floor. Wall Street Bros were something of a specialty of Jessica’s. She found them hilarious. Caitlin didn’t have the energy to find them anything more than a pain in the ass. The evening progressed and Caitlin thought someone had forgotten the program because cocktail time was going extra-long.
“Hey Katie,” said Jessica, bouncing up to the bar, carrying her tray. She yanked some money out of the tip jar and made change, redistributing the cash in her apron before shoving a fistful back in the jar. “This one’s going to pick me up after work. His friend thinks you’re hot. Want to come along. You know you’ll get a free dinner out of it.”
“Fuck no,” said Caitlin. “They’re going to do some E, and then they’ll pass out, and I’m going to be unhappy. If I’m just going to make myself happy, I might as well go home where I can take off my make-up. Dinner isnotworth it.” That and she hated beingone of the date-to-dine girls. She’d done it a couple of times when she’d been desperate, and she’d ended up feeling like a user.
Jessica snorted. “When was the last time anyone but your dildo made you happy?” she demanded. “Come out with us.”
“No thanks,” said Caitlin. “I’m telling you, Wall Street bros are like the potato chips of dating. You think you’re having a good time, but mostly you just end up feeling unsatisfied and kind of greasy.”
Jessica laughed, her breasts bouncing in her low-cut top which caused wistful looks on several customers on the other side of the bar. “I swear to God, I’m going to start cross-stitching some of the shit you say on pillows. I bet I could sell those on Etsy for a mint.” Jessica paused, clearly thinking that idea over more seriously, then she shook her head. “But seriously, why aren’t you dating? I know you don’t approve of my one-hit-wonder lifestyle, but why don’t you get yourself some sort of steady guy.”
“Oh, hell fucking no,” said Caitlin. “I don’t have time for a boyfriend. They want shit. They want my time. They want me to be happy and smile on command. They want me to take care of them. I’m not Suzy Homemaker, and I’m not their mother. And if I wanted to get rid of my resting bitch face, I’d look at something other than their dick pics on Tinder.”
Jessica was laughing and Caitlin grinned in response, but she didn’t add that even if she did meet someone, they probably wouldn’t want to date her. Caitlin was pretty sure that anyone who realized the full extent of Caitlin’s financial problems from the mountain of debt from her mother’s death or the impending IRS shitstorm from her father, they would just run the other way.
“And I don’t disapprove of your one-night stands. As long as everyone’s safe, knock yourself out. It has just been my experience that one night stand sex seriously sucks. And sinceI’m not looking for a steady guy or shitty sex that kind of just leaves me with Billy Bob.”
“Billy Bob?”
“The previously mentioned vibrator,” said Caitlin, and Jessica laughed again.
“I’m knitting you a vibrator cozy with his name on it.”
