Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“And don’t forget!” Adam hollered. “Our Google score is up from 3.9 to 4.1 since November! We have all the reasons to celebrate!”
I grinned as everyone applauded again, and I couldn’t describe the feeling. But I knew one thing—I was going to do everything in my power to make the Clover a workplace you didn’t wanna leave. Granted, the bar was in desperate need of a financial buffer, but my employees came right after that.
“Jules, can you help Colin?” I yelled over the music. “He’s lagging behind with the racks!”
She nodded and scurried toward the kitchen.
At ten PM, I was ready for the night to be over.
“You in pain?” Adam asked.
“No!” I flexed my hand a bit more subtly and reached for another glass.
I was also ready for Adam to go back to California. Ev and Bella could stay. They didn’t fuss over me.
“I swear I will stage an intervention, Trace!”
I flipped him off over my shoulder as I— “Ope! My bad.” I almost crashed into Jamaal. Christ. We managed to avoid each other, and I continued putting together a new order. Four beers, three vodka tonics, and two Guinness.
Adam would have to choose another time to bitch at me about how much I supposedly worked. I mean, sure, we’d had a lot this month…and the one before…but I wanted to keep busy. Busy was good. Busy kept my brain occupied.
The Irish punk rock blared loudly, though nothing could drown out the shouting, the laughing, and the bad singing of all the shit-faced patrons here tonight. We were at maximum capacity and officially turning people away at the door.
At least Dad had gone back to Sarah’s—and Jerry and Malcolm hadn’t even shown up today.
Adam, Jamaal, and I worked as fast as we could, and Tonya kept adding food coloring to the empty glasses that flooded the counter. God forbid your Paddy beer wasn’t green.
By the time we were closing in on midnight, I was the only one who hadn’t taken a break to eat, so I’d see if I could sneak away for a few minutes soon. In the meantime, we cranked up the charm, because at this hour, every drunk woman was a flirt, and every drunk dude was looking for either a fight or a best friend. Charm worked on everyone, whether it was the flirty variety or the rhyme and reason that calmed someone down.
When one order was fulfilled, I took a swig from my water bottle and then moved on to the next, and I leaned over the counter a bit to hear what the woman was yelling.
Two beers, got it.
“And one for you, sweetie!” she added.
I grinned and grabbed two glasses. Since she was clutching cash in her hand, my answer was a given. “You wanna make my day, hon? Consider this instead.” I pointed to the nearest tip jar for our soup kitchen. “If I drink any more, I won’t be able to serve you.” I threw in a wink for good measure.
She flushed and bit her lip, which I was sure worked on many men, and she stuck a five into the jar.
“You’re an angel,” I told her.
“Oh, stop it,” she laughed.
Nah. I couldn’t see exactly how much money each one contained, but we’d gotten a lot of donations tonight. I loved it.
“Trace!” Marisol called, coming out from the kitchen. “Sandy needs you!”
I nodded and finished up what I was doing before I let Jamaal know I’d be right back.
“Actually, you can take your fuckin’ break, man,” he said, busy pouring beer. “Adam and I got this.”
I stared at him. “He’s not a good influence on you.”
He laughed. “Just get outta here! We have Tonya and Julie too.”
Fine. That was fair, I guessed. The girls weren’t exactly strangers to bartending.
I removed my apron and threw it under the bar, then headed out into the kitchen. I’d eat whatever was available—
“Boss,” Sandy said. Right, he’d wanted something. I headed over to where he was preparing three servings of wings. “That homeless guy with the dog is back. He’s in the alley.”
Wait, what?
“You want me to give him food or…?”
That made no sense. Cliff had overdosed over a month ago, and I’d assumed a shelter had taken the dog.
“I’ll handle it,” I replied absently and headed for the hallway. He was dead, wasn’t he? I was sure of it. I’d woken up to the sound of sirens down in the alley, and it was unfortunately not the first time. Cliff had spent more than a few nights outside my apartment over the years, but he’d been one of those people you knew would never get rid of his addiction.
I grabbed a larger flashlight in the hallway, just in case, and shoved the door open. Greasing the hinges was on the list, ’cause the snow melting wasn’t enough, evidently. We’d had nice weather the past couple of weeks, and spring was in the air.