“That was a damn workout,” Kristie sighs, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. “These people have no clue when to stop drinking, huh?”
“Nope, but the more drinks they buy, the more tips we make.” I give her a knowing look as I grab a rag to wipe the sticky counters. Bexley walks over and leans against the oppositecounter. She opens her mouth, but Susie slips behind the bar first, a crate of alcohol in her hands.
“Hey, girls. Busy night?” She sets the crate down on the back counter and moves along the shelves, checking to see what needs replacing.
“Started off that way, but it’s dying down now,” I answer, topping off another beer from the tap. I hand it to the customer, who nods and pays before wandering off.
“Alright. Well, I’ll be in my office working on an order if you need an extra hand, don’t hesitate to shout.” She smiles at us once she’s satisfied with the bottles and starts to walk away but pauses. “Oh, before I forget.” Her eyes find mine. “Brielle, can you come in and cover for me for a few hours tomorrow? I have a meeting with a potential investor, and I don’t want Bexley to be here by herself.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I salute and she laughs.
“Thank you, sugar,” she calls over her shoulder as she heads to her office.
Susie is like our adoptive mom—protective, understanding, and always looking out for us. If she needs me to cover, who am I to say no?
Things pick up again about twenty minutes later, now that we’re creeping closer to that two a.m. mark.
“Last round!” Kristie announces from behind the counter, and shortly after, Bexley is locking the front doors when the last customer leaves.
Plopping into a seat, I take in the mess the bar has become tonight—garbage litters the floor, spilled drinks and grime that won’t be fun to mop up—but it’s not any worse than most nights.
“Let’s get this shit clean so we can take off,” I grumble, standing up to gather the empty glasses and carrying them to the sink as Bex heads out back to get the mop bucket while Kristie starts stacking chairs.
“Any plans this weekend?” Bexley asks us once she’s back, bucket in tow. Now that we don’t have to yell over the blaring music, it’s easier to talk.
“Not much. I’ll be in for the early shift, then I have a date, but we’re coming to see the band tomorrow night.” Kristie having a date doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. She’s the outgoing one of us three.
“Who’s the lucky guy?” I ask.
“Someone Susie set me up with. Young, dark hair. Flirty as hell.” Her eyes flash with excitement as she finishes up the chairs.
“Well, tomorrow I’ll be here to cover for Susie,” I say, rinsing out a glass, “but after that? I’m spending the rest of the day in bed, watching TV and not moving until my bladder screams at me.” Bexley laughs as she mops.
“That sounds like a good-ass time,” Kristie says, and Bexley nods in agreement.
I chuckle, drying my hands on a rag. “Yup. I don’t want to do anything if I don’t have to.”
A relaxing night is exactly what I need.
Too bad it doesn’t go that way.
2
BRIELLE
After lockingthe doors to the bar, I start my trek over to my piece-of-shit car, the one that requires using a screwdriver to start it. Anyone could steal it since the actual key isn’t needed. All you have to do is shove that shit in the ignition and go. But who the fuck would want something that looks like a rusty toaster? I wouldn’t steal it, and it’s my stupid car. I got it for five hundred bucks from a teenager selling it on Craigslist. It might be a piece of shit, but it gets me to work and back.
Most of the time.
I start it up with my handy-dandy screwdriver, and begin my short drive home. It takes roughly five minutes to get there at this time of night. Cool air seeps through every crack of this car, and since the heater doesn’t work, that means it’s fucking freezing.
I put the car in park, and fling the door open, jogging to the apartment. Fingers dig into my pocket for the keys before I slide one into the lock and push the door open. Warmth hits me, but the stench hits harder.
After locking the door behind me, I step further into the living room, and this time it’s not empty. Chase is sprawled onthe sofa, a beer in his hand as a football game blares on the TV screen. Morgan, nowhere in sight.
I pass the TV on the way to my room, and Chase’s eyes leave the screen to follow me.
“Make sure you have your rent on the table by tomorrow, Brielle.” He pauses to grab another cigarette from the coffee table. “I needed it today. You’re lucky Morgan got a bonus, or all your shit would’ve been outside.” He scoffs in my direction as if he hasn’t told me this five times since last night. “I can think of another way you can pay me if you’re short on cash,” he says, his mouth curling into a smile. One I think is supposed to be sexy, but he looks like a fucking wild monkey who found a banana in the trash.
