“Is that written in the bylaws of bar etiquette?” I slide the beers to him.
He winks and chugs one down. “You’ll bring the rest back to us, yeah, sweetheart?”
“You got it.”
I fill another pint, trying not to look toward the corner where Lance is glaring like it’smyfault he’s here.
“Helloooo, earth to Ginny. You good?”
Rosalie’s shooting me a loaded glance, her strawberry hairbouncing in a ponytail as she fills up a round black tray with pink shots at the service bar.
“Peachy.”
I slam the drink I’m making down a little too hard and grip the neck of a vodka bottle like I’m trying to strangle it. “Who the hell does he think he is?”
She rears back, then looks around. “Care to elaborate on who you’re talking about?”
“Your cousin,Lance.”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me that they’re here. Lance is the only one I can tolerate.”
“Well I don’t know how. He’s awful,” I say. “Where were you anyway?”
“Benny wanted somealonetime, you know how it is.” She winks, wiping the corner of her mouth.
I swallow the gag.
She acts like everything is fine with them, but it’s easy to see through the act. Benjamin is a creep who love bombs Rosalie into being at his side and then treats her like shit.
Not that she’d listen if I tell her that. I tried to be her friend when I first moved here, but she’s got a wall too high for anyone to climb. So instead, we trade barbs back and forth during our shifts, and that’s the extent of it.
“Anyway, prepare for your night to get worse,” she continues. “Benny said you have to clean downstairs.”
My eyes fly to Lance again. His head’s tilted toward Juliette while she talks, that forever frown on his face.
“Like…cleanit, clean it?” I ask.
I’ve never been allowed unfettered access to the Lye before,and part of me naively thought that because Frederick was gone, maybe Art would shut the whole operation down.
But that’s silly, because Art doesn’t run that operation. He’s just the name on the books.
“I don’t know; I’m not the fucking boss,” Rosalie says.
“Uh, why are you yelling at me?”
“Sorry.” She frowns. “You just ask a lot of questions.”
“Sue me.”
Rosalie picks up the last shot, her attention floating over my shoulder, and the color drains from her cheeks. “There’s that guy again.”
“What guy?”
She jerks her chin toward the corner by the front door.
There’s a man standing there, tall and lean, with a blond crew cut. And his eyes are onme.
“Do you know him?” she asks.
