Case abandoned the plates to grab something off the grill. His arms and hands moved at super-speed while he plated with absolute precision. After he’d wiped the edge of the dish clean and made its perfect twin on a separate plate, he thumbed through instructions on the computer, letting the front of the house know there was an order up, then turned around to level me with his surprising ferocity. “I’m telling you, Eliza. Isn’t that the same thing?”
I glanced away, unable to answer that question. Was it the same thing? Shouldn’t it be? I was a co-owner, same as Will, same as Charlie. So why did I need Will’s permission to hire a position all of us knew we needed.
“Let me talk to our accountant. But it should be fine. We’re short a few waitresses now anyway.”
His lips twitched into the shadow of a smile. “I want the final say.”
It was easier to glare at him now that the tension had broken. “Don’t push your luck, Cason. You can’t remind me I’m the boss to get your way, only to try to then be the boss.”
His smile turned sheepish. “I don’t play well with others.”
So the rumors were true. Well, damn. This was going to fall on me when it went badly. I shouldn’t have let him bait me into a fast answer. It wouldn’t have hurt to think about his request. Or talk to my brothers first—even if I was still fuming at Will. “You’re going to have to learn.” I picked up my leather jacket and crossbody purse from the hook next to my door and slipped them on. “Or you’re going to have to look into those other offers.”
His sheepishness turned into something else, something that was surprised I was calling him on his bullshit. “I’m just saying, just because you know your way around a kitchen doesn’t mean you know who should be in it.”
Ada flew through the door, interrupting our conversation to grab the two plates under the heat lamp. Case spouted off a warning about how hot they were. Ada spouted off something about not caring. I slipped through the door while they were both distracted.
Will and Miles, our weekend bartender who had been bumped up to almost full time lately, were behind the bar. I checked my phone before walking to the corner of the long mahogany bar, the only bare spot on the whole counter. Charlie was on the floor taking orders, along with a new girl who I could tell wasn’t going to last a week. Which was too bad because she seemed nice. Although I had thought the same thing about Lola when she first showed up at the bar, all green and flighty. She’d been a terrible server at first. But in the end, she’d managed to figure it out. So it was possible this girl could too.
Except her eyes were suspiciously glossy like she was trying to hold back tears.
Maybe that was the problem. We needed to stop hiring nice people and stack our shifts with sassy assholes who could survive the absolute cesspool that was food service. Humanity was all nice and fine until Karen didn’t get the drink she ordered. Or Dave’s salad dressing was put on his salad after he specifically asked for it on the side. Heaven forbid Samantha had to deal with fucking gluten when she was mildly gluten intolerant.
It wasn’t that I had an issue with people not eating gluten. I applauded them. It took a lot of self-control—that I didn’t possess incidentally—not to eat gluten. But it was how people went about it that truly killed someone’s soul.
After almost four years in this business, I knew two things. One, the lower-than-minimum-wage server bringing food to your table didn’t have malicious intentions to kill you with an overdressed salad or vodka when you asked for gin in your martini. Two, whatever mistakes were made in my bar were seldom life or death. Unless that gluten-intolerant person was actually anaphylactic. Then okay,fine, maybe then, and only then, the consequences were dire. But still accidental death at best.
Most people were trying to do the right thing. And most people were not intentionally going around fucking up random strangers’ lives on purpose.
Maybe sadistic assholes out there took their revenge on the unsuspecting food service people. And obviously, serial killers walked among us or whatever. But we tried really,reallyhard not to hire any of those people.
“You look tired,” Will said by way of greeting when he stopped over to see what I wanted.
I smoothed my expression and put the many problems with society, and our humble little piece of it, out of my mind. That was the kind of thought train that deserved alcohol and chocolate. And I had neither right now.
“I’m going to run out with Jonah and grab supper. Want anything?”
It was like we’d swapped expressions. Now he looked tired and depressed. “Must be nice,” he grumbled. “How’d you get Jonah to want to do something?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. He offered.”
His dull eyes narrowed sharply. “Why didn’t he ask me? I’m his friend. Not you.”
His question was a rusty knife to my kidneys. I wanted to scream. And a buried, younger version of me wanted to cry. “Don’t be an idiot. It’s just supper. I’m hungry. And I’ve been working all day.”
My answer did not appease him. “Me too.” The difference was that he was still working. “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. I told him to pick. But knowing Jonah, probably someplace new and trendy.” He continued to pout, but I didn’t have patience for him right now. “What’s with the scowl?”
“I just don’t know when you and Jonah became better friends than him and me.”
The eye roll following his woe-is-me comment practically pushed my eyeballs out of my head. He was being needy and annoying, and he knew it. But I probably still shouldn’t have said, “Well, you have a girlfriend now. What did you expect?”
His eyes almost bugged out of his head while he processed my low-key burn. It was on the tip of my tongue to apologize to him, but then my phone dinged with a text from Jonah. He was pulling up front.
He would have waited for me to sort this out with Will. But I was so pissed at my brother and this possible second bar.Sopissed.
So instead of acting like a mature grown-up and smoothing things over right then and there, I said, “I’ll probably have him drop me at home afterward. So I won’t be coming back here. I’ll Uber to work or bum a ride with Charlie tomorrow. Case can make you something if you’re hungry.” Then I tapped the bar and stalked out. He called after me, but the bar was too crowded and loud for me to make out what he said.
