This Dennison guy looked like the kind of asshole who hung out on golf courses and always had a story to top everyone else’s. Sure, he was Vice President of Whatever. But it was at a company with his last name on it. I doubted that he’d earned his fancy title. Judging from her face this morning, this Warner suit had never taken a piss in the great outdoors.
Naomi looked heart-stoppingly gorgeous, not to mention happy, in the formal photo. Which for some stupid reason annoyed me. What did I care if she was into men who ironed their pants? My next-door neighbor was no longer any of my damn business. I’d found her and Way a place to stay. Anything that happened from here on out was her own problem.
I closed out of the window on my screen. Naomi Witt no longer existed to me. I felt good about that.
My phone buzzed on the desk, and Waylon’s head popped up.
“Yeah?” I answered.
“Vernon’s here. Want me to get him started?” Jeremiah offered.
“Get him a whiskey. I’m on my way out.”
“Will do.”
“There he is!” Vernon Quigg called when I returned to the shop. The retired Marine was six feet tall, seventy years old, and the proud owner of an impeccable walrus moustache.
I was the only person allowed near the ’stache with scissors. It was both an honor and an annoyance, seeing as how the man loved nothing more than fresh gossip.
“Afternoon, Vernon,” I said, clipping the cape around his neck.
“Heard about you and Not Tina throwin’ down in Café Rev yesterday,” he said gleefully. “Sounds like those twins are carbon copies of each other.”
“I heard that she’s the complete opposite of her sister,” Stasia said, plopping down in the empty chair next to my station.
I reached for my comb and gritted my teeth.
“I heard there’s a warrant out for Tina and Not Tina helped her escape,” said Doris Bacon, owner of Bacon Stables, a farm with a reputation for turning out champion horseflesh.
Fuck me.
ELEVEN
BOSS FROM HELL
Naomi
I accepted the leather and denim apron Sherry “Fi” Fiasco handed me and tied it around my waist.
“Shirt looks good,” Sherry said, giving my Honky Tonk v-neck an approving nod.
“Thanks,” I said and tugged nervously at the hem. The shirt was tight and showed more cleavage than I was used to accentuating. But, per my research at the library, ladies with their “girls” showing tended to make higher tips.
Honky Tonk felt like a country bar that had a brief but satisfying affair with a glitzy speakeasy. I liked the “fancy cowboy” vibe.
“This here’s Maxine, and she’ll be training you on the POS,” Fi said, plucking the lollipop out of her mouth. “It’s also how you clock in and out and order your own meals. Here’s your pin number.” She handed over a sticky note with 6969 scrawled across it in Sharpie.
Nice.
“Hi,” I said to Maxine. She had dark skin dusted with glitter over her enviable cheekbones and modest cleavage. Her hair was cut short and left to curl tightly in tiny magenta coils.
“Call me Max,” she insisted. “You ever sling drinks before?”
I shook my head. “I worked in HR until two days ago.”
I gave her points for not rolling her eyes at me. I wouldn’t want to train me either.
“But I learn fast,” I assured her.
“Well, you’re gonna have to since we’re short-handed tonight. So unless you suck, I’ll be pushing you out of the nest early.”
“I’ll do my best not to suck,” I promised.
“You do that. We’ll start with the drinks for my eight-top.”
“We’ve got two drafts of Bud,” Maxine began, fingers flying over the screen. Her glittery nails hypnotized me with their speed.
I was nervous but highly motivated. My bank had told me it would take up to a week for me to receive my replacement debit and credit cards. And Waylay had already polished off the entire box of Pop-Tarts. If I wanted to keep my niece in groceries, I was going to have to be the best damn server this town had ever seen.
“Then you hit send, and the printer at the bar spits out the order. Same for food, only it goes straight to the kitchen,” Max explained.
“Got it.”
“Great. Here’s the next one. Your turn.”
I only fumbled twice and earned a “good enough” nod from my trainer.
“Let’s get those tips flowing. I hope your feet are prepared,” Maxine said with a quick grin.