by Libby Kirsch
Jason closed the door so all four stood in the small office space together. It was silent for what felt like a long time.
“So,” Janet said, looking between the pair. “Secret lovers?”
Bud’s face flushed scarlet, and Cindy Lou took a tremulous breath before answering.
“Well, I guess it ain’t so secret anymore,” she said with a brave attempt at a smile. “But, you know what? I’m glad it’s out in the open. Now we don’t have to sneak around. They don’t care, right, Janet? Jason?”
Janet didn’t say anything; instead, she inspected Bud, who absently stroked his hand. His left ring finger, to be more specific.
After another few awkward moments of silence, he spoke. “Listen, I don’t want any trouble. I mean, this was just for fun, right?”
“Just for . . . just for fun?” Cindy Lou’s voice was barely louder than a whisper. Her pale skin flushed scarlet from her cheeks all the way down her shoulders, like beer foam spilling over the edge of a glass.
Bud shifted his weight and said, “I mean . . . I, uh . . . I’ve got a wife and two kids at home.”
Cindy Lou sucked in a noisy breath and her piercing wail flooded the room. “A wife? Kids? What are you talkin’ about? I mentioned Chip a dozen times, and how he’s leaving for college soon, and I’ll be all alone—and you never thought to mention your dang wife? Your k-k-kids?”
Janet’s face felt pinched, and she was furious that Cindy Lou had let herself be played so fantastically. What was it with everyone in her life being unwilling to see the truth of things? Jason was so intent on not helping the police that he couldn’t see he also wasn’t helping himself. Her renters were a mess and had no money and no jobs, yet thought they could sign a lease and foster a baby.
Now Cindy Lou was shocked that secret alley sex wasn’t the launching point for a long-term relationship?
“Wake up, Cindy Lou,” Janet snapped, glaring at Bud. “You’re Dumpster diving with this guy, and you think he doesn’t have a secret? Use your head!” She looked down her nose at Bud, who flinched under her cold stare. “That’s a man with something to hide.”
Her eyes shot over to Cindy Lou in time to see her employee’s face crumple completely. The bartender ran, sobbing, from the room. Bud slunk out to the parking lot, and drove away.
Janet bit her lip. The silence coming from the other side of the office was louder than Bud’s truck. In her peripheral vision, she saw Jason cross his arms. She could feel him staring at her but couldn’t quite bring herself to meet his eye.
“What’s wrong with you, Janet? Do you think Cindy Lou needed to hear that from you just now? Where’s your compassion?”
“Compassion?” She rubbed her hands over her face and sank heavily down onto the threadbare couch. “Compassion leaves you with broke renters, crappy employees who disregard what you say, and police trying to dig up dirt on you that doesn’t exist. I don’t think we can afford to be compassionate anymore, Jason!”
Disappointment wafted from her boyfriend like freshly applied aftershave. He grabbed his coat and wallet from the desk, his face taut, his lips tight. “I’m going home,” he said. “I have work to do.”
He walked out of the office without a backward glance.
“Oh . . . okay,” Janet said to his retreating figure. “I’ll, ah . . . I’ll see you . . .” But she was alone. He was gone.
The phone rang and she answered wearily.
“I can’t come in tonight for my shift. I’m sick,” a very healthy-sounding Frank said.
“Sick?”
“Yeah, sorry.”
“What kind of sick?” Janet asked. Here, finally, was someone at whom she could justify being angry, but she was too tired to expend the effort.
“The kind of sick where I don’t feel like working, okay?”
“Well . . . I don’t have anyone else I can call to come in—”
“Now that I think of it, I’d better just cancel my shift tomorrow, too. Might still be contagious.”
In the background, she heard laughing. Maybe some music, too.
An inner calm took over, and her clenched shoulders relaxed. She took a deep, cleansing breath. “Frank, don’t come back. You’re fired.”
“But—but, Janet—”
She gently placed the phone down onto the receiver before resting her head on her folded arms.
The door opened and Cindy Lou murmured, “I’m sorry, Janet. I’m sorry I’m such a dang disappointment,” then slunk back into the bar like a beaten dog.
She scrubbed a hand over her face. Why couldn’t she have handled that better? She’d never set out to be the kind of boss who’d make an employee cry. Now Cindy Lou was apologizing to her. Cindy Lou! Apologizing to her! Her most loyal employee, who never called in sick and always had a smile for everyone, had just been emotionally torpedoed by a lover—and Janet had piled on the way Frank would have.
She groaned at her own behavior. Her life had begun to feel like a runaway train, and she was flying off the rails along with it.
In the bar, Cindy Lou slumped over the ice chest, staring dejectedly out at the front door.
Janet leaned up against the cooler too, so they were shoulder to shoulder. “I’m sorry I’m such a bitch.” She took her wallet out of her back pocket, then peeled a dollar out of the fold and tucked it into the swear jar. “I’ve been a hell of a jerk”—another dollar—“but I’m going to own it. I was mad at Bud and took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”
Cindy Lou nodded, but her eyes didn’t leave the door.
Janet blew out a sigh. “I should tell you that I fired Frank, that asshole.” Two dollars that time. “And I will try to stop being such an award-winning cu—”
“Janet, no!” Cindy Lou gasped.
“Okay—bitch”—Janet stifled a grin as she put a fiver into the jar—“for at least the rest of the night so that this shitty day”—another dollar—“can end with enough money in the swear jar for one hell of an extra tip for my employees. I mean, ffff—” Cindy Lou slapped a hand over her mouth to cover a smile. “Ffffuck, it’s been a long day.” She ended with the final bill in her wallet, a twenty. “Do you forgive me?”
Cindy Lou nodded. “I was a fool, Janet. I know that.”
“And I should have been there to support you. Not knock you down even more.”
Cindy Lou threw an arm over Janet’s shoulders. “You fired Frank?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well. There’s one good thing about today.”
Four hours later, business had picked up and they had a sizable crowd—especially for a Sunday night.
“Watch Jimmy,” Janet said to Cindy Lou. “He might need a taxi.” The new customer appeared to be on a mission to drink as many happy-hour specials as possible.
Nell had sidled up to him and they were discussing cataracts, with Jimmy boisterously advocating skipping surgery and just going blind. Nell’s extra-large glasses turned opaque under the lights as she pondered that idea. Janet grinned, then turned when the door opened and a crowd poured in.
They really could have used Frank that night, so despite their argument, Janet texted Jason, asking him to come in. The bar was nearing capacity, and she didn’t have anyone to check IDs at the door, so drink orders were backing up while she and Cindy Lou checked IDs before each order.
A small commotion at the front door caught her eye as she pulled a pint. “What’s going on?”
“Huh?” Cindy Lou opened two bottles at once and slid them across the bar to waiting customers.
“Nothing, nothing.” Janet opened a tab for someone but scanned the front of the bar until she spotted it. Well, her. Two people moved to reveal a woman slumped against the door, preventing anyone else from coming in. The door rattled, and the woman flipped her head up. Her long blond hair parted, revealing Larsa.
“Larsa, hon, what are you doing?” Janet called. She was so distracted, beer spilled over the side of a pint glass and down her hand. “Damn it!” She
wiped off the glass and handed it across the bar. “Cindy Lou, I’ll be right back.”
“Seriously?” Cindy Lou looked over and swiped the back of her hand across her forehead. When she saw the situation at the front door she nodded. “Get on back here ay-sap, boss!”
Janet hustled around the side of the bar and made her way through the crowd to the front door.
Larsa chuckled when the door behind her pulsed again as someone tried to push it open from the outside.
“Larsa? Are you okay?”
The other woman’s eyes opened wide. “Janet. I’ve had a day, you know?”
“I was wondering where you were!”
“You were?” Larsa drew the hair away from her face and held it back on top of her head, her eyes welling up with tears.
“Well, yeah, sure. Come on up to the bar, away from the door,” she added, reaching out to guide Larsa away from the entrance.
Larsa finally leaned forward, just as the door pushed open. The unexpected bump sent Ike’s daughter sprawling into a group of people nearby.
A beer from that group flew through the air, spraying a stream of liquid across Larsa’s face as the bottle plunged back down to the ground.
Janet and Larsa locked eyes seconds before Larsa’s tongue snaked out and tasted the beer dripping down her cheek. Janet’s jaw dropped at the move, and Larsa’s eyes widened when she realized what she’d done.
“Oh!” she gasped.
“It doesn’t count!” Janet said with conviction. “That doesn’t . . .”
Larsa mopped her sleeve across her face and tried to stand, but her legs were unsteady. While Janet swooped down to rescue the beer bottle before someone stepped on it, Larsa wailed, “Oh my God!”
“Larsa! Larsa, it’s going to be all right!”
But the other woman fell against the wall, shook her head, and pushed back off before stumbling through the crowd of people.
By the time Janet made her way out into the parking lot, Larsa was gone.
She rubbed a hand across her forehead and blew out a noisy breath through her nose. “What in the hell just happened?” She was worried about Larsa, but there wasn’t anything she could do about the other woman now. She headed back inside and took her place behind the bar, handing out drinks as fast as people could pay for them.
“Don, Chris, are you ready for another, or are you headed home?” she asked two men seated at bar stools in front of her.
She scanned the room as she waited for their answer, and did a double take when her renters walked into the bar with their baby.
“We have good news,” Mel said with a guarded smile. “We found some money to put toward rent. It won’t cover everything we owe, but it’s a good start.”
Janet’s eyes narrowed. “Oh yeah?” She dried her hands on a rag tucked into her apron string. “How much?”
“It’s enough for this month’s rent and half the security deposit. Not perfect, I know, but it’s a start, don’t you think?” Kat looked hopeful as she held out an envelope; Janet took it and peered inside at a stack of cash.
“Do you think you can pay next month’s rent and the other half of the deposit in thirty days?”
Mel stole a glance at her partner before nodding. “Yes.”
Kat started yammering on about all of the baby’s accomplishments that day, which included things like smiling and touching her toes.
Janet wasn’t impressed, but she also wasn’t really paying attention. She looked inside the envelope again, then interrupted Kat. “Where did you get this money?”
“Well, the timing just couldn’t have been better,” Kat answered when Mel didn’t. “It’s from the state for child support for the baby. We had so much help from friends offering to donate items that we don’t need it.”
Janet stared wordlessly at her tenants for a moment while she gathered her thoughts.
Hours ago, she might have told them to save the money for the baby, not use it to pay their rent. She might have told them that from what she’d heard, babies grew quickly, needed new clothes every other week, and ran through formula like the people in her bar ran through beer, and they’d likely need the money for the baby, as the state intended.
But.
She was a new woman. A more responsible user of words. So, instead, she said, “What about the other half? You think the state’s going to cover that for you, too?” But before they could respond, Janet’s attention was drawn to a commotion on the other end of the bar.
Jimmy, the customer Janet had recently identified as being on the edge, had officially fallen over it. He leaned over the bar and yelled at Cindy Lou, his finger shaking just inches from her face. Nell scurried off her bar stool and hustled away.
“Cut off? Who are you to cut me off? You don’t make the—the—argh!” He’d leaned too far forward on the stool and misjudged where the bar was. His elbow missed the counter completely, and he pitched forward and fell off the side of his stool to the floor, narrowly missing the corner of the bar with his chin as he went down.
He braced himself against the floor and Cindy Lou took the break to call the cab company. She turned to Janet and held up two fingers, indicating his ride was only a couple of minutes away.
In the meantime, Jimmy was gearing up for another outburst. His fingers reached up for the edge of the countertop. Janet could see the wheels turning—albeit slowly—and his face growing redder by the moment.
Her mouth twisted in distaste. With Frank fired, it was up to her to physically remove this unruly customer. “Boy, did you pick the wrong day to mess with me,” she muttered as she rounded the corner of the bar. But before she got to Jimmy, another set of hands latched onto the scruff of his neck. He was cut off mid-snarl as Mel literally lifted him off the floor and set him down on his feet hard before propelling him forward.
Cindy Lou, the receiver still pressed to her ear, called out, “His ride is thirty seconds away!”
Mel slammed the idiot down into a seat by the door and pressed her hands against his shoulders in a death grip, keeping him in place until Cindy Lou said, “Now!” and pointed to the door.
Mel hefted him back to his feet and escorted him out into the parking lot. The taxi pulled up in front of the glass door and Mel deposited Jimmy carefully into the backseat. She slammed the door, then tapped the roof and watched the car drive away, her arms hanging loosely at her sides.
The bar had fallen quiet during the scuffle, but when Mel walked back inside the establishment, the other customers erupted in cheers. Mel’s grim expression didn’t change, but Kat squealed, clapped, and hugged her when she arrived back at the bar.
“So, anyway, what were you saying about money?” Mel asked, as if they hadn’t been interrupted.
Janet’s mouth hung open again. She had no idea what kind of background Mel had, but that hadn’t been learned in a simple self-defense class. Before she could second-guess herself, Janet said, “I was saying you need some—some money, that is—and you can earn it by working for me. I need a bouncer. Are you interested?”
“What kind of hours are we talking about?” Janet glanced at Cindy Lou in disbelief before Mel, her face impassive, said, “I’m just messing with you. Of course I want the job! Obviously, I need it—we need it.”
Janet smiled faintly. She wanted to know more about Mel’s work history—hell, her life history—but before she could ask where she had learned to kick ass, a man walked into the bar. He rubbed his sweaty hands on his pants, leaving dark streaks behind, then scanned the crowd.
“Abe?” Janet called out. “What are you doing here?”
Chapter Nineteen
The tall, sandy-haired man scanned the perimeter of the space, before his eyes landed on Janet. He nodded solemnly, then walked forward.
“Is . . .” He looked around the room again, zipping and unzipping his light jacket in time with his foot tapping against the floor. He finally brought his eyes back to Janet and tried again. “Is Larsa here?”
; “No. No, she’s not.”
“Oh, I thought . . . I thought you said she was going to be here until the police caught Ike’s killer.”
“Yes, she was in a bit of a state tonight. I don’t know why, she rushed out before I could ask.”
“Oh!” His hand stilled when his zipper was halfway down the coat. “Did the police make an arrest?”
She blew out a sigh. “No . . . I don’t think so, anyway.” She looked at the door, wondering how she could check on Larsa. Until that night she’d thought she might never get the woman out of her bar; now she was worried she wouldn’t be able to find her. “Hey, can I get you a beer? On the house.” She wanted to know why he was here, and if Larsa couldn’t ask, she was going to.
He held Janet’s gaze for a long moment before finally nodding. She went behind the bar, pulled two draft beers, and carried them to an empty table in the corner. Larsa’s table, she thought with a grimace.
“I see you haven’t had your finger taken care of,” Abe said as he sat down and shrugged out of his coat.
She plonked the beers down. “I’m going to a walk-in clinic first thing tomorrow,” she said with conviction. Her finger had seemed to get worse after she’d treated it at home, instead of better.
Abe took a zip-top bag out of his pocket and set it on the table. “I grabbed a few things from home that might help, just in case you still needed it—and I see you certainly do.” He opened the bag and unfolded a large gauze rectangle, a scalpel, a needle, and two small bottles of liquid. He pointed to the smaller bottle. “The iodine will clean out the wound after we drain it.” Then he picked up the larger bottle and the syringe.
“Whoa, wait just a minute. You’re going to dr—drain it?” She gulped and her heart rate zipped into overdrive. She looked down at her finger, certain that the throbbing she felt would be visible from the outside. It wasn’t.
“Don’t worry, I’ll numb it first.” Abe took the very worrisome-looking syringe and drew some liquid from the larger bottle. “Lidocaine,” he said while snapping on blue gloves before he held out his hand. She reluctantly rested her hand on his and he got to work. “The first poke is the only one you’ll feel.” The needle hovered over her hand; she peeled her eyes away from the shiny tip, and as soon as she looked up, Abe struck the needle down into her finger.