Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
“Charlie,” Mickey calls out to me. He’s another regular and the uncle of one of my employees.
I give him a nod, grabbing a tall glass and throwing the handle for the Guinness back to get Mickey another. He’ll be here all night, staring up at the college games on the televisions above me.
There are plenty of regulars, some of them like family. Grace isn’t like that. I don’t know how to describe her to be honest. I just know I like it when she’s here.
I slide him the beer, scooting it across the bar top. I’m half tempted to ask him where the hell his nephew is since he never showed up for work, but it’s not like he’d know. The bar is just outside the city and located in a small town. Bringing up business to Mickey isn’t going to help any. He’s a retired cop, and his wife passed away from cancer not too long ago. I’m not going to give him a hard time because his nephew doesn’t have a clue what work ethic is.
“Thank you, sir,” Mickey tells me, grabbing his beer. He doesn’t even look away from the game on television. Beer, football, and a crowded place keep him sane and help him deal with it all.
“Charlie!” Maggie calls out from behind me. She swings open the doors to the back and walks through as she throws on her apron. Thank fuck she’s here.
“Is the kitchen all set?” she asks. She puts her arms around her back, as she ties the apron.
“Yeah, it should be ready for you,” I tell her, grabbing the short iced down glass for Grace. I try to fight back my agitation.
James is really looking to be fired. I’ve absolutely had it with him getting drunk after closing and not showing up the next day. He’s young and stupid. I know what that lifestyle is like, since I used to be just like him, but I’m sick and tired of putting up with his shit.
I didn’t hire him so I could do the work of two men when one doesn’t show.
I’m fucking exhausted, and the night’s just getting started. But that’s what this business takes. Hard work and dedication. It’s not what I thought it’d be when I opened a bar at the outskirts of town. I know part of the reason I did it was to get away.
Part of it was to drown out the memory of the past with booze.
That was years ago though when I was dumb and stupid. Somehow I got lucky, and this damn bar is the only good thing I’ve got going for me now. I can’t let a little shithead like James screw things up.
“Thanks for coming in, Mags.”
I turn to look over my shoulder, but Maggie’s already gone. She's a hard ass and doesn’t need to be given praise, but I should give her a raise or a bonus. Good help’s hard to find in a small town where people think they can get away with this shit.
“Citrus and peach tonight?” I ask Grace.
I set the glass in front of her and wipe my hand off on my faded blue jeans. Her slender fingers brush against mine as she takes the glass with both her hands.
“Sounds delicious to me,” she says with a hint of a blush to her cheeks. “I need it.” I cock my head at her, waiting for her to elaborate.
“Things going okay?” She asks as her brows pinch, and she looks past me to the swinging double doors Mags went through. “Not that I’m trying to change the subject or anything… you just seem like something’s off.”
I shrug and lean my hip against the bar as I pick up a rag to wipe things down. I let out a deep breath and try to shrug it off, but Grace looks at me pointedly, taking a sip and smiling before setting the glass down. I don’t know why, but it makes me smile too.
“It’s really good,” she tells me and sways slightly. She does that, rocking gently when she decides to get comfortable.
“A new hire didn’t show up is all,” I answer Grace without thinking.
I’m relaxed as I do a quick scan, making sure no one’s glass is empty and I’ve taken care of everyone so far who’s come in. Rick will be here soon to help and with Mags in the back we should be good for tonight, but the last two hours have been hell doing it all on my own. The wet rag in my hand glides down the bar easily, soaking up the spilled beer. I sealed and lacquered the oak bar myself. This bar is my baby. And James doesn’t respect it, or his job.
“Uh oh,” she answers playfully and I give her a scolding look that grants me a laugh from her. “I’d be pissed too,” she says finally.