Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Ellie
“Ellie, I’ve got bad news,” Trina says, walking into the office. I hold my head down, not really wanting to hear it. I’m off work in…I look up at the clock on the wall across from my desk to confirm it.
Three minutes.
It’s been a bad night, and the bar has been chaos, thanks to a bachelorette party gone wild in the party room. The last thing I want is more trouble. I want to go home, put on my jammies and crawl into bed, forgetting this entire day. What I don’t want to do is deal with more drunk women or men who should have quit drinking an hour ago, but instead, are intent on ruining my night and drinking themselves into a stupor.
I might as well admit it. I hate my job. I hate it with a passion. Manager of Harvey Wallbanger’s pays the bills. When I got the job, the name made me giggle. I met Harvey and even though he can be an asshole, I liked him. The job kind of sucks, but my schedule is decent and the money is good. Nights like tonight, though, make me want to throw in the towel and flip burgers at the diner down the street.
“Let Thomas handle it,” I mutter.
“He’s not here yet,” Trina replies and I curse under my breath. That asshole knows it’s time for me to be out of here. He also knows I can’t leave until he gets here. He just doesn’t give a damn.
“Is it really urgent, Trina? It’s been a bad night,” I mutter, rubbing my temple. I’ve got a migraine starting. They’re nothing new, I get them often. This one, however, is going to be a killer. I can already tell.
“It’s Hayley,” she responds, disgust in her voice.
“Fuck,” I hiss.
Hayley is a local girl, who gets her money by sleeping with the men who come in the bar. I’m not a prude and the way I figure it, prostitution has been around since the dawn of time. I can’t judge it, because if a woman has to make money and this way offers her a better living, to each their own. My problem is that Hayley doesn’t do it for the money as much as the thrill. She also doesn’t care what or where she does it. Which means, if she gets Harvey’s shut down because she’s bare ass naked with her tits swaying in the air on the dance floor while she’s taking it up the ass by some man with deep pockets, she couldn’t care less—and trust me I know her tits sway because she’s got five kids at home. If that wasn’t proof enough, I’ve had to have the bouncers drag her and the Gibson brothers off the dance floor and out of the bar one night for trying to do that very thing. Personally, I would have banned all three from the bar at that point, but Harvey wouldn’t let me. I suspect because Hayley let him do what I stopped the Gibson brothers from doing. Men are pigs. There’s a huge part of me that doesn’t want to go put a stop to Hayley’s bullshit. It would serve Harvey right if he was reported and got shut down for a few days. The problem with that scenario is that most likely I’d lose my job, and since I’m partial to having a roof over my head, with food in my fridge…it’s not an option.
“Jesus, doesn’t that bitch ever take a night off?”
“Never. She enjoys what she does too much,” Trina replies dryly.
“Women’s bathroom again?”
“Nope, if it was there I’d have left you alone.”
“Shit, the front door again?”
“Nope, and before you ask, not the bar top either.”
“Now, I’m afraid to know. Harvey needs his ass kicked.”
“Or his dick to fall off, which after messing with Hayley, it just might.”
“Sorry, Trina. I know dealing with Hayley and her bullshit every night is the last thing you want to do,” I respond with a sigh. Trina’s ex, Tyler, is her ex because she came home from work one night and found him and Hayley in her bed.
“I wanted to take care of it myself, but I’d probably kill the bitch. Didn’t figure Harvey would like a murder happening at his bar.”
“Probably not. Where’s she at?” I ask, picking up the phone and dialing without even thinking about the number—probably because I have to dial it too damn often.
“Table fifty-seven,” Trina says.
“Thomas, where are you?” I ask into the phone.
“I’m about ten minutes out, Ellie. My car wouldn’t start.”
“I’d believe that if I didn’t know you don’t have a fucking car. I’m leaving in five minutes. You better have your ass here, or I’m telling Harvey that he needs to ditch your ass. I’m tired of covering for you.”
“El—”
I hang up, and toss my cell on the desk, rubbing my temple. I definitely have a migraine now. I need to get home, medicate and sleep. I don’t need to deal with this bullshit. I just don’t have a choice. I stand up, grabbing my phone and shoving it into my back pants pocket.