“Yeah, I start next week.”
I was deliberately keeping my answers short and not asking him about himself. I just wanted this to be over so I could go back to waiting tables with Angela.
Ethan watched me with those crystalline blue eyes. “You don’t have to sit here anymore. I just didn’t want any of those perverts to get a drink with you.”
My heart fell at his words. He’d noticed my shutdown. Why was I so fucking damaged?
I shifted nervously in my seat. “No, I’m sorry. I’m … having a hard time acclimating to being back.”
He nodded. “Staying in a hostel on Jefferson probably isn’t helping. I heard they hand out hallucinogens like they’re candy.”
A slow grin crept across my face. “I’m pretty sure I almost drank mushroom tea last night from a sweet couple from Amsterdam.”
He laughed and was about to speak when Mickey tapped the mic.
“Alright, folks, I need my ladies to get back to work. I hope you’ve enjoyed your time with them. The homeless shelter thanks you!”
Ethan reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Opening it, he placed a white card in front of me.
“I’ve got a little apartment above my garage that’s for rent. I could be flexible on the first month since you’re getting back on your feet. It’s two hundred a month, utilities included. Vacant now, so move in tomorrow if you like.”
What did he just say? Move in!
But then my practical mind went to the price. Two hundred? That was cheap as fuck. Right in my price range. What was wrong with the place?
I stood and peered down at the card.
Ethan King
King’s Motorcycle Shop
Owner
With his number at the bottom.
There was no way in hell I was living above Ethan King’s garage.
“Cool, I’ll see. I might have another hook up in Tempe,” I lied.
He nodded and tipped his beer my way. “Good to see you, Hailey Willows.”
“You too.” My name change back to Willows would take at least six weeks.
His voice, the smoothness in the way he spoke, it awoke parts of myself that I hadn’t realized were still alive.
I slipped his card into my back pocket and beelined it for Angela, who was now at the back bar grabbing some drinks.
She shot me a wicked grin. “Ethan King just paid a grand to talk to you for five minutes. Tell me everything.”
A nervous laugh escaped me. “Nothing big. Just catching up on old times.”
She raised one eyebrow. “Old times, hey?”
“These for table seven?” I waved her off and grabbed the drinks, saying a random table number.
She got the point. “Table ten.”
I delivered the drinks and then started to wipe the next empty table down. Over the next few hours of my shift, it was a monotony of serving beer, clearing bottles, and wiping tables. My feet felt like I was walking on bruises, and I really missed my Gucci loafers. But at the end of the night when I went into the back room to clock out, Mickey told me I’d done a great job and he was hiring me permanently.
