facts in place, he wanted her.
Damn . Life was suddenly getting a lot more complicated.
Friday rolled into Saturday, into Sunday, and finally into Monday, seemingly without end. She’d said he’d be working twelve-hour days, but fourteen or sixteen had proven to be the norm. Under Doug’s tutelage, Hal’s drink repertoire had risen dramatically. Even more amazing for someone used to having a few hundred miles between himself and the rest of humanity, he’d learned the finer moves of working with two people in a cramped space without stepping on anybody’s toes. But he hadn’t been able to get Stevie alone for a minute.
Hal stacked the last clean glass on the shelf, then took it back down to wipe a few spots off with his bar towel. He twisted the glass around the cloth and checked out the bar. The coolers were stocked with beer, the place was tidy, and the chaotic crowds had piddled out to a few regulars. It was time to make his move.
Tossing the towel over his shoulder, he called to Doug, “I’m taking a break.”
The younger man nodded and went back to counting out their tips on the bar.
* * *
“. . . four, five, six, seven hundred,” Stevie whispered under her breath. “And twenty, forty.” Twelve hundred and forty dollars. She counted it again.
“Hmm, not bad.” She tippity-tapped the number onto her calculator, then picked up a bundle of tens.
Stacks of cardboard boxes, most of them empty, towered over the side of her rolltop desk, blocking the overhead light and throwing her slender form into the slanted shadow of the ceiling fan. Various and sundry pieces of replacement parts, tools, and busted equipment littered the remaining floor space.
Standing in the doorway, Hal looked at the mess and wondered how she ever got any work done. Her desk reminded him of a miniature junkyard. Empty beer bottles and pop cans were scattered here and there like beacons among the flat paper waste.
“For double wages, I’ll clean this place up for you,” he offered from across the infamous back room.
Stevie swivelled her chair around, one pencil in her hand, another stuck behind her ear. “Don’t even try it, mister. I’ve got a system going here.” A surprisingly soft smile curved her full, wide mouth, sending a jolt of anticipation through his chest. Then she went and ruined it. “This is the best Memorial Day weekend the Trail’s ever done, close to thirty-five hundred dollars.”
“Looks as though I’m earning my keep,” he said dryly. Was money all she ever thought about? he wondered.
She answered him silently with an arched brow, and swivelled herself around and went back to work.
“What’s the big deal, anyway,” he continued, leaning his shoulder against the door frame. “According to Doug, good old Kip set you up for life.”
“If you call ridiculous car payments, an outrageous mortgage, and a piece of a decrepit bar that can’t even pay for the beer being set up for life, then he did.” While she talked, she shuffled through the piles of ledgers and papers on the desk, eventually coming up with a rubber band. “Frankly, I had something else in mind.”
Her words, however lightly spoken, caused an uneasy tightening in his chest.
“Thought you were smarter than that, Stevie Lee,” he said softly, hurting for her and not knowing exactly why. Sure, he’d seen how hard she worked, keeping a lid on the pandemonium and charming the customers. But he’d also seen her drop with exhaustion at the end of each night.
From the back, he saw her lift one shoulder in a slight shrug. “It was a small price to pay to get rid of him.”
He took her nonchalance as a cue and sure rejection of any pity he might have offered, if he’d been dumb enough to offer Stevie Lee Brown pity. Changing tactics, he said in a lighter tone, “I guess I showed up in the nick of time.”
She replied silently again, this time lifting both shoulders in an all-out, dismissive shrug.
Okay, Hal, you’ve tried
Damn . Life was suddenly getting a lot more complicated.
Friday rolled into Saturday, into Sunday, and finally into Monday, seemingly without end. She’d said he’d be working twelve-hour days, but fourteen or sixteen had proven to be the norm. Under Doug’s tutelage, Hal’s drink repertoire had risen dramatically. Even more amazing for someone used to having a few hundred miles between himself and the rest of humanity, he’d learned the finer moves of working with two people in a cramped space without stepping on anybody’s toes. But he hadn’t been able to get Stevie alone for a minute.
Hal stacked the last clean glass on the shelf, then took it back down to wipe a few spots off with his bar towel. He twisted the glass around the cloth and checked out the bar. The coolers were stocked with beer, the place was tidy, and the chaotic crowds had piddled out to a few regulars. It was time to make his move.
Tossing the towel over his shoulder, he called to Doug, “I’m taking a break.”
The younger man nodded and went back to counting out their tips on the bar.
* * *
“. . . four, five, six, seven hundred,” Stevie whispered under her breath. “And twenty, forty.” Twelve hundred and forty dollars. She counted it again.
“Hmm, not bad.” She tippity-tapped the number onto her calculator, then picked up a bundle of tens.
Stacks of cardboard boxes, most of them empty, towered over the side of her rolltop desk, blocking the overhead light and throwing her slender form into the slanted shadow of the ceiling fan. Various and sundry pieces of replacement parts, tools, and busted equipment littered the remaining floor space.
Standing in the doorway, Hal looked at the mess and wondered how she ever got any work done. Her desk reminded him of a miniature junkyard. Empty beer bottles and pop cans were scattered here and there like beacons among the flat paper waste.
“For double wages, I’ll clean this place up for you,” he offered from across the infamous back room.
Stevie swivelled her chair around, one pencil in her hand, another stuck behind her ear. “Don’t even try it, mister. I’ve got a system going here.” A surprisingly soft smile curved her full, wide mouth, sending a jolt of anticipation through his chest. Then she went and ruined it. “This is the best Memorial Day weekend the Trail’s ever done, close to thirty-five hundred dollars.”
“Looks as though I’m earning my keep,” he said dryly. Was money all she ever thought about? he wondered.
She answered him silently with an arched brow, and swivelled herself around and went back to work.
“What’s the big deal, anyway,” he continued, leaning his shoulder against the door frame. “According to Doug, good old Kip set you up for life.”
“If you call ridiculous car payments, an outrageous mortgage, and a piece of a decrepit bar that can’t even pay for the beer being set up for life, then he did.” While she talked, she shuffled through the piles of ledgers and papers on the desk, eventually coming up with a rubber band. “Frankly, I had something else in mind.”
Her words, however lightly spoken, caused an uneasy tightening in his chest.
“Thought you were smarter than that, Stevie Lee,” he said softly, hurting for her and not knowing exactly why. Sure, he’d seen how hard she worked, keeping a lid on the pandemonium and charming the customers. But he’d also seen her drop with exhaustion at the end of each night.
From the back, he saw her lift one shoulder in a slight shrug. “It was a small price to pay to get rid of him.”
He took her nonchalance as a cue and sure rejection of any pity he might have offered, if he’d been dumb enough to offer Stevie Lee Brown pity. Changing tactics, he said in a lighter tone, “I guess I showed up in the nick of time.”
She replied silently again, this time lifting both shoulders in an all-out, dismissive shrug.
Okay, Hal, you’ve tried
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