“How do you work this damn thing?” he said, voice distant.
“Sal, can you hear me?”
“Hello! Mia, is that you?”
“Yes,” I said, sighing. “I need to work more hours. I need the money. Can you put me on whenever someone drops a shift?”
“What?” Sal said again. He was about eighty years old and could barely hear, but it was the best job I’d had in a long time. “You have too many hours?”
“No, Sal,” I said loudly. “I wantmorehours. Has anyone dropped any shifts?”
“Oh, yeah. Marcie just dropped one for later today!” he said, sounding happy. “Come on down. I was going to call you anyway.”
I thanked the gods—whichever one it was this time—and got changed into my uniform to bartend by the river. Sunday nights were usually slow, but the job paid well. He gave me more than minimum wage, plus tips. So, I tried to go anytime I wasn’t at school.
Like usual, when I got to the bar, it was dead. There were a few stragglers hanging around the tables in the back and a few regulars at the bar. I threw my hair into a high ponytail, ready for whatever shit I had to deal with tonight.
But then, halfway through my shift, the one man I didn’t want to see walked right through the doors and smirked atme.
He didn’t say anything to me throughout my whole shift. Another one of the girls waited on him, giving him a glass of wine, then a beer, then a shot of whiskey. But those eyes, those damn eyes, were fixed on me the entire night.
CHAPTER15
MIA
“All right, Mia,” Sal said, voice shrill. He walked out from the back, weakly lifting his bag and putting it over his shoulder. “I’m about to go. You got this from here—” He readjusted his glasses. “Michael, is that you?”
Mr. Bryne smiled widely at him, tipping his drink toward Sal. “Still remember me?”
I furrowed my brows. “You guys know each other?”
Sal put a shaky hand on Mr. Bryne’s shoulder. “He used to work for me. Almost thirty years ago.”
“It’s been that long, huh?”
“Best worker I ever had,” Sal said, nudging me. “Besides you.”
“She could learn a trick or two,” Mr. Bryne said, winking at me with those devilish eyes.
“Well”—Sal squeezed Mr. Bryne’s shoulder—“it was nice seeing you. Come in more often. Maybe Mia can showyouhow it’s done.”
Mr. Bryne nodded, and Sal turned toward the door.
“Do you need help?” I asked him, watching him struggle with his bag.
“Now, dear, don’t you get me started. I’m still as agile as I used to be.” He opened the door, then disappeared behind it. “See you tomorrow.”
When the door closed and we were left in the empty bar, I turned back to Mr. Bryne to see him staring at me and … smiling. I stared back, heart pounding in my chest.
“What do you want?” I asked. “Why are you here?”
“I can’t have a drink?”
“Why are youstillhere?” I said, rephrasing my question.
“Because I’m not finished.” He tipped his very empty glass in my direction, and I arched a brow at him.
“Looks like you’re finished to me.”
