She moved away years ago, but she’s come for a visit and wanted to help at the bar so my brother Brax could have a night off.
I blink away my sadness and shake my head. “Handle what?”
As I turn toward Alyssa, she dips her head toward the barstools. “Them.”
I let out a loud breath, readying myself for whatever nonsense I am about to turn around to see. In my lifetime, I’ve seen some crazy things at the Hook and Hustle, my family’s bar on the Southside of Chicago.
But when I spin, I’m quickly taken aback. There are two girls seated at the bar, looking entirely out of place.
The oldest is maybe fifteen with straight, long brown hair and the biggest brown eyes I’d ever seen. The younger one looks entirely different, with red hair pulled back in a braid, light green eyes, and freckles.
“Jesus,” I mutter, wondering how they wandered in here and took a seat in the short time I had my back turned.
“My thoughts exactly,” Alyssa whispers before sauntering away with a pitcher of beer, leaving me to deal with them.
“Hey, girls,” I say softly, taking a step forward. “You’re a little young to be in here. Is your dad or mom here?” I look around the bar, but I see no new faces these two could belong to.
“No,” the oldest girl says without giving any more information.
Teenage girls are the worst. So full of attitude and anger, mostly caused by hormones, but amplified by the stupidity of teenage boys.
The youngest pulls on the sleeve of the older girl. “Sissy, I want a Shirley Temple,” the little girl whispers.
I smile at the mention of an old favorite. Every little girl has their Shirley Temple phase, and mine was longer than most because it was a drink my mother always made me and my family owned a bar. I thought I looked cool drinking one, and it didn’t hurt that it tasted good too.
“We’ll take two Shirley Temples,” the older girl says, looking like she isn’t about to leave, even though they are both too young to be in here.
I take a few steps forward and lean over the bar in front of them. “You two can’t be here by yourselves. Where’s your mom or dad?”
The older one’s face immediately sours. “Our mom moved to Oregon, and I don’t know where our dad is.”
“He’s at work,” the younger one says, earning herself a glare from her sister.
My heart immediately hurt for the girls. I couldn’t imagine my mother moving across the country, leaving us behind by choice.
What kind of woman leaves her kids behind?
An awful one.
“Maybe we can call him,” I say and start to reach under the bar for my phone.
“No,” the older girl snaps. “He’s not allowed to receive calls at work. I’m in charge.”
“Really?” My gaze dips to the little girl, who can’t seem to look me in the eyes anymore, alerting me to the fact that the older one is lying.
“Can we please get two Shirley Temples, and then we’ll go?” the older one asks, fidgeting on the stool.
In that moment, I think about my dad and what he’d do if he were here instead of me. He’d give the girls what they wanted and face the consequences later.
“How about we make a deal? You tell me if your dad knows where you are, and your names, and I’ll make you two Shirley Temples on the house.”
The older one’s gaze dips to her little sister. “Fine,” she sighs, clearly annoyed. “I’m Maddox, and this is Hazel.”
Hazel gives me a giant smile as her upper body sways, her legs no doubt swinging around under the bar out of nervousness. “We call her Maddy, and they call me Haze.”
“Zip it,” Maddox tells her sister, deflating the little girl just a bit. “And yes, he knows where we are.”
“He does?” Hazel asks as she peers up at her sister with those big green eyes.
