“And then we’ll decide.”
Jesus.
“You’re just doing this to weaken us, aren’t you?” I said.
Jerome shrugged.
“My job is to make this club as strong as it can,” he said. “I’m not going to hurt any of y’all, and I’m not going to become your enemy. But it’s no secret the Reapers are stronger than us right now. If we can get stronger, terms become more favorable to us. Catch my drift? It’s just business, man.”
I shook my head. This wasn’t what I signed up for. Who the fuck was this Jerome before me?
“I thought it’d be easier than this,” I said.
“Yeah, well, you ain’t get to be President of the club without making things hard,” he said. “Tell you what. I know I got a relationship with you, and I know you’re a good guy. Get back to me by Sunday night.”
“Sunday?”
“I usually make people decide on the spot,” Jerome said. “People usually show their true intentions under pressure. I’m giving you time, man. Don’t make me regret it.”
What... is going the fuck on?
I didn’t say a word more. I had gotten burned so much by conversations going too long and things getting too ugly the last twenty-four hours or so, if it happened one more time, I didn’t know what the fuck I would do.
Instead, I left, wondering if I really had any allies left or just people who pretended to be my friend. First Rose, then Butch, and now Jerome? Shit, who the hell did I have left if not them? Anyone?
The question wasn’t worth pondering. I needed to get home, get some rest, and pick up the pieces.
Maybe this was the feeling Rose was having when she felt she’d hit rock bottom.
Maybe I’d get the feeling she got of picking herself back up.
Maybe...
Rose
Monday Evening
“Alright, I think you’ve got the hang of it!”
Isaac clapped his hands before me and looked over my shoulder.
“Six o’clock, gotta get going. I think you’ve got it. Oh, and the closing procedures are in the manual in the office. Call me if you have any questions!”
I was so stunned at how quickly Isaac just got up and left that I could scarcely believe he had even hired me for the position. My first shift, scheduled to go from five to nine p.m., was supposed to be a full day of training. Even though using a register was the type of thing anyone who had basic math skills could use—actually, even more basic than that since the computer could handle much of the calculations—I figured I would get a more in-depth training than what I received. There were the different bottles, the different types of beers, vendors we worked with… all those details would have been nice to know.
But instead, Isaac seemed to believe I could just figure it out on my own and left the store. I didn’t know whether to be complemented by some presumed faith in my abilities or insulted at the notion that he was too lazy to train me. I at least knew he had taken my driver’s license and a blank check for payment purposes, so at least I’d be getting paid.
When Isaac left, I sat back on a stool behind the cashier, sighed, and took a deep breath. There was no one else in the store. In fact, only one person had come in from the time we had opened. I supposed part of the reason people didn’t want to work these hours was that no one who would tip came in at that time. But it wasn’t like we were a bar—besides completing purchases, we just gave people advice on drinks and then let them take it home or outside. I was getting paid my hourly wage whether or not anyone tipped.
And you know what? I liked that there was no one else in the store. I liked that I was earning money in a serene environment.
I needed it after the feelings of regret and stress had built up in the previous couple of days. After everything that had happened with LeCharles and Brewskis, I just stayed in the entire weekend. I could have foreseen many things going wrong, but I didn’t think my quaint hometown of Springsville would suddenly turn into a crime-infested town with rival gangs causing collateral damage. I also didn’t think LeCharles and I would briefly “reunite” as much as we had, only for things to then descend straight into hell again.
The roller coaster ride had me thinking maybe I just needed to go somewhere else nearby. I had the fortune of having a commute under ten minutes right now, but what if I could increase it to thirty in return for being away from the crime and drama?
Not like I had anything to lose with LeCharles or anyone else.
The bell rang, but I didn’t look up at first. I was just relishing being alone and being quiet. And in any case, someone entering meant the presence of a customer who would want information about beer that I didn’t really know about. It wouldn’t be the greatest of looks if an employee couldn’t differentiate two stouts or two IPAs.
