He studied me one last time before backing off.“Fine.”
I gestured to the drunk.“Outside.Cab in ten.”
He shuffled off, muttering.The crowd turned away, losing interest.I pulled my phone, called the cab company.Jenna caught my eye.I nodded.Crisis over.Knuckles raised his beer in salute.Another night handled.
The couple returned to the bar a minute later.I poured a beer and something fruity, slid both across.“On the house.”
He nodded.“Thanks.”
“Enjoy the rest of your night.”
They melted back into the crowd.Laughter rose from the pool tables again.The music shifted to an older track.The rhythm ofThe Spokereturned, alive but balanced.My pulse slowed.Nights like this always found their balance -- loud, messy, but mostly harmless.
Still, I stayed alert.Calm never lasted forever.The club drilled the lesson deep: read the room, control the situation while hiding every sign of control.Strength without threat.Calm over chaos.
By eleven, the rush faded.Only regulars remained -- diehards who’d drink until closing.I wiped the counter, restocked the coolers, kept one eye on the door.Everything ran smooth.Just how I liked it.
The clock read one fifteen when Jenna approached, the spark in her eyes gone.She’d moved like a machine for the past hour, no banter, no smiles.I’d noticed.I just hadn’t asked.
“Got a minute?”Her hands twisted the strings of her apron.
I scanned the room.Two men in the corner, a woman scrolling her phone, one Prospect shooting pool.Nothing urgent.“Yeah.Office.”
She led the way.The small room barely held the desk, filing cabinet, and two chairs.Jenna sat on the edge of one, knees pressed together.I leaned against the desk and waited.
She took a breath.“My mom had a stroke.”
The words hit like a brick.“When?”
“Yesterday.My sister called this morning.I tried to finish my shift before deciding what to do.”Her voice wavered.“Doctors don’t sound hopeful.I have to leave tonight.I won’t be back.”
Three years she’d worked beside me.Never late.Never lazy.The kind of employee a place leaned on.“Texas?”
“Outside Houston.My sister’s there, but she’s got kids and a husband who travels.She needs help.”Jenna blinked fast, mascara smudged.“I’m sorry.I know this puts you in a bind.”
“Don’t apologize.”I opened the bottom drawer and pulled the cash box.Her pay for the week.I added two hundred.When she tried to refuse, I pressed the money into her hand.“You’ll need it for gas and food.”
“Ace…”
“Take it.”
She swallowed, nodded.“Thank you.”
“You grab your stuff?”
“Mostly.I’ll get the rest.”
We walked back through the bar.The stragglers barely looked up.Inside the locker room, she shoved a hoodie, shoes, and a paperback into her bag.The locker door slammed shut, a hollowclangcutting through the silence.
“Come on.I’ll walk you out.”
The lot lay quiet under a flickering light.Crickets sang in the grass beyond the gravel.Only her old Honda and my truck remained.The few people who remained, other than us, had either walked over or parked elsewhere.She dug for her keys, hands unsteady and anxious.
“Take care of yourself.And your mom.”
Tears welled again.“I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t be.You’re doing the right thing.”
