I grabbed the door handle when Duke strode up quickly—shoulders tight, gaze hard, and nostrils moving in and out. “I thought I told you to go inside.”
“You don’t have the right to tell me what to do.” The words fired at him machine-gun fast, my anger melting the snow in my hair.
“I do if you’re working for me. If you can’t follow orders, then you’re not the right person for the job.”
“You’re hiring me?”
He opened the door. “Do you want the job or not? I don’t have time to dick around. It’s a yes or no. If not, I’ll escort you to your beat-up truck.”
Bite your tongue, Fallyn.“Before I commit, I need to know the pay, as in hazard pay.” My gaze went to his gun.
He slipped the weapon into the back of his pants. “We’ll work that out later, but I can assure you that I pay well and you’re safe here.”
I snorted. What the heck? I never snorted. “It seems your definition of ‘safe’ and mine differ,” I mumbled as I crossed the threshold in my new alternate reality.
The pungent odor hit me first—a mixture of cleaning supplies, booze, and sweat.
The right side of the club had cages suspended from the ceiling, while the back wall displayed a long wooden bar with a polished mirror and neatly stacked liquor bottles on shelves. And on the left side, stairs led up to a second floor filled with scattered tables and chairs.
My college days came roaring back—drunken students, late nights, loud music, raves, and frat parties. But this wasn’t a time to reminisce, and I certainly wasn’t in college anymore. Losing my senses to alcohol and hot guys wasn’t on the agenda either.
I pointed at the cages. “What do you keep in those things?” I asked for nothing more than to temper my nerves.
I knew men and women were hired to dance in them. As someone who hated small spaces, I would pass out if I had to stay in a cage for more than five seconds.
He came up alongside me. “Not important. I’ll have Carlo, my club manager, help you with the paperwork, and he’ll show you around. You’ll work on a trial basis for thirty days. If you’re still here after that, then the hazard pay will kick in. For now, you’ll be paid the going wage and split the tips with your bar partner.”
“When do I start?”
The floor was rather sticky as he ushered me in the direction of the bar.
“Tonight, if you’re ready. We’re short a bartender.”
I skirted around a support beam. When I did, I bumped into him.
He placed a hand on my lower back to steady me. “Are you nervous?”
My legs felt like saltwater taffy. “Not in the least,” I lied.
“Joy, we’ll get along just fine if you don’t lie. I despise anyone who does. My employees will tell you that I only give a person one chance.”
“Or what?” I couldn’t stop the question from flying out.
Note to self: Have my bulletproof vest close by because when Duke learns I’m a fraud, he’ll pump a round of bullets in me.
He ignored me as he waved to an older, well-groomed man behind the bar. “Carlo.”
“Yes, sir.” He set the wineglass down and flipped the towel over his shoulder.
“This is Joy Whitlock,” Duke said. “She’s our new bartender. She already filled out the application online. Can you show her around? Prepare her for tonight. I want her shadowing Matt.”
Carlo gave me a polite smile. “Sure thing, boss.”
Heavy footsteps echoed behind us.
As I suspected, Brian McCauley strutted up to the bar. The man was a beast. Large, intimidating, and like Duke, a shrewd, sharp, man who took no prisoners. What I knew of him came only from what I’d seen on paper and in photos.
Jason had never been able to gather any concrete evidence that would stick. He had, however, been successful in sending Brian’s lieutenant to prison on a weak drug charge.
