A Cry in the Dark

by Denise Grover Swank

  “Well, it won’t be anytime soon,” Ruth said, then looked me up and down. “The jeans’ll do, and I’ll get you a T-shirt from the back. How soon can you start?”

  “I can start right now,” I said in shock. This had been way too easy.

  “Then come on,” she said, gesturing for me to follow her into the back. “Let’s get you ready for the Monday night rush.”

  I followed her, tugging my worthless suitcase behind me. This place was empty. Monday night rush? It looked like they didn’t need one employee, let alone two.

  “Hey!” Max called after us. “I never said she was hired!”

  “We all know who the real boss is around here,” Ruth said over her shoulder. “So don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.” Then she snickered.

  “I heard that slur against my manhood!” Max shouted at her.

  “I meant you to!”

  Once we were in the back, Ruth took my suitcase and wrangled it into a small office that barely had enough room for a desk. Several keys on plastic key chains hung from hooks on the wall behind it.

  “Isn’t Max the owner?” I asked, trying not to worry that he might fire me any second just to remind Ruth of her place.

  She waved a hand in dismissal. “Max likes to be the face of the bar, the good-time guy, but everyone knows I run it. He pays me well, so I let him pretend he’s the boss.” She winked. “Most of the time.”

  “So you think he should fire Lula?”

  She angled her head back and eyed me up and down. “Damn, girl. I thought you said this was temporary.”

  “What?” Then I realized what she thought I was getting at. “No. I mean, yes. It is. I’m out of here as soon as Wyatt fixes my car, which will hopefully be in a few days.”

  She laughed. “I was teasing you. Lula’s just wild and unreliable. But she’s sweet as sugar, so we all seem to tolerate the inconvenience.” She led me into a back storeroom lined with wire racks weighed down by huge boxes. Along the back wall was a metal cabinet above a collection of smaller lockers. A couple of them were secured with padlocks, but the rest were unlocked. Several coat hooks jutted out from the wall. Only two were in use—a navy blue woman’s coat hung from one and a man’s work jacket hung from the other. It struck me that it looked much too large for Max.

  She saw my gaze and laughed. “That belongs to Tiny, the cook. I’ll introduce you in a minute.”

  “Oh.” Of course there was a cook. There was likely more than one, but the size of that coat scared me. It had to be from a big-and-tall men’s store, which meant Tiny was someone’s idea of a cute nickname.

  “Hang up your coat while I find you a shirt,” Ruth said as she tugged a plastic bin off the bottom of one of the shelves.

  “Yeah, sure.” I shrugged my coat off one arm at a time so I didn’t need to let go of my purse.

  Ruth seemed to notice my reluctance to put down my bag, but she remained silent as she sorted through the small stack of shirts in the bin.

  “It might be on the small side,” she said, tossing one of them to me, “but it looks like you’ve got good tits, so show ’em off, honey. I suspect you need the money for that multi-day car repair, which means you’re gonna need the tips. But it’s your lucky day because tonight is Monday Night Football, sugar. Cute face, nice tits, and somethin’ new and intriguin’ for the boys? They’ll tip you well as long as you’re friendly.”

  “How friendly?” I asked, my voice tight.

  She laughed. “Not as friendly as you’re insinuating. Max won’t tolerate that—from either side. So don’t go promising some big reward after you finish your shift because he’ll fire you lickety-split. On the flip side, he won’t tolerate any man trying to grope you, so you be sure to tell one us immediately if that happens. Got it?”

  The fiery look in her eyes promised me she meant every word. I pushed out a sigh of relief. “No worries there.”

  With a sharp nod, she said, “Good.” A smile spread across her face. “I think I’m gonna like workin’ with you.”

  I smiled back. “I think I’m gonna like it too.”

  She laughed. “We’ll see if you’re saying the same thing at midnight.”

  Chapter Three

  After I swapped my long-sleeved T-shirt for my snug Max’s Tavern shirt, Ruth assigned me a locker and gave me a padlock and a key. I locked everything up and stuffed the key in the front pocket of my jeans.

  “Don’t you worry about anyone stealing anything,” she said. “Max won’t put up with that nonsense, and Tiny would make them regret it until their dyin’ day, which would likely be sooner than they anticipated. But no one would dare try. For one thing, Tiny is slow to anger, but once he’s pissed…look out. As for Max, this is the only bar in a thirty-mile radius, and too many men in these parts love to come in for Monday Night Football to risk pissin’ him off.” She grinned. “Like I said, if you’re short on funds, you’ve picked a good night to show up. The Tennessee Titans are playin’ tonight, so we’ll be busier than ever. Truth be told, I’m thankful I won’t be workin’ it alone.”

  I was only partially relieved. All the Tiny references had me on edge.

  Chuckling, Ruth tucked her hand around my right arm and pulled me to the door to the hall. “By the look on your face, something I said scared you, but don’t you worry. Max and Tiny don’t take no shit from anyone, and they definitely don’t make us take shit from anyone either.” She leaned closer. “I’ve waitressed a few places, and nobody takes care of his girls like Max does.”

  I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Takes care of his girls? I was hoping the antiquated description wasn’t as misogynistic as it sounded.

  Was it wrong that it made me feel safer?

  “Let’s go meet Tiny before the rush hits,” she said, dragging me out of the storeroom and down a short hall into the kitchen.

  A huge man with closely cropped red hair stood in front of the grill. “You stop right there,” he said, waving a spatula at us. “What do you think you’re doin’, Ruthie?”

  He had to be at least six-foot-five or six, and while he was wide and thick, he didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. It was easy to see why Tiny was Max’s enforcer, but the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end at the thought of Max needing someone like Tiny in the first place. We’d never needed an enforcer at Applebee’s.

  What kind of place was this?

  “Don’t you be worryin’,” Tiny said to me with a warm smile. Then he shot a mock glare to the woman beside me. “It’s Ruthie I blame. She knows the rules.”

  Ruth laughed. “Tiny doesn’t allow anyone not workin’ in the kitchen to step foot inside it.” Then she said, “I only wanted you to meet Carly before the chaos hits.”

  “You keep the chaos out there.” Tiny pointed to the rectangular window opening on the wall to my right. “I’ll control it in here.” He squinted at me. “New girl, huh? Max finally decided to replace Lula?”

  “Oh, no,” I said, lifting up a hand. “I’m just temporary help for a few days while my car’s getting repaired.”

  He gave me a look that suggested he didn’t believe me but didn’t call me on it. “The menu’s pretty simple, and the system’s not complicated. Take the order on a notepad, then pin it on the line. We’ll pull the ticket and put it with the plate when it’s done.”

  “What if there’s an appetizer?” I asked.

  Tiny released a belly laugh, then said, “This ain’t no hoity-toity res-taur-aunt.” He tried to make the last word sound French but did a very poor job of it. “It all comes out at the same time.”

  “Got it,” I said.

  “Don’t you worry,” Tiny said. “If Lula can handle it, you won’t have a lick of trouble.”

  “Thanks, Tiny,” I said, feeling foolish for being frightened of him and also relieved by his reassurance. I hadn’t waitressed in nearly a decade. I hoped it all came back.

  An hour later, the tavern was half full—a big group of men had descended on
us, scooting the tables and chairs around so they could get the best views of the big-screen TV. Ruth had been right about their interest in me, but their attention seemed good-natured and respectful.

  “Gentlemen,” Max said, walking over to the group and putting a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sure you’ve all met Carly by now. She’s fillin’ in for Lula. I expect you to treat her with the respect she deserves or you’ll be answering to me or Tiny.”

  “That goes without sayin’, Max,” one man grumbled in the back. “The rules ain’t changed since you took over the place.”

  “A little reminder never hurt anyone,” Max said. “Be sure to tell your friends when they come in. Now, to celebrate our newest employee, how about a round of beers on the house?”

  A round of cheers went up and my mouth dropped open in shock.

  Max gave me a wink. “Come on over, and we’ll start passin’ ’em out.”

  “Why would you do that, Max?” I asked quietly as I followed him behind the bar.

  He grabbed a mug and started filling it up with the beer on tap. “Had to get ’em all in a good mood,” he said, then lowered his voice. “Some of ’em are partial to Lula. She’s a pretty little thing and sweet as honey. They might not be too happy with you for fillin’ in for her.”

  I was starting to understand why Max put up with Lula’s antics.

  “In any case, they’re gettin’ free drinks because you’re here, which will make them happy,” he said, handing me the first mug. “You’ll get better tips now.”

  I stared at him in surprise. The cynical part of me might have accused him of wanting to maximize his own share of the tips, but Ruth had told me that he never took his share. He only asked that we share ten percent with Tiny and whoever was helping him—either a man named Samson or a woman named Bitty, a nickname Tiny had given her that had stuck. Ruth said she couldn’t even remember her real name. Samson’s name was supposedly legit, and while he was working tonight, I had yet to get a good look at him.

  When I had a tray full of mugs, I carried them over and started handing them out. Ruth was busy with another table, but she shot me a wink and mouthed, You’ve got this.

  I knew what she was up to. She was giving me a chance to butter up the crowd.

  “How y’all doin’ tonight?” I asked with a huge smile, letting my Texas drawl slip in.

  “Doin’ great, little miss,” one of the men said, and while I wondered at his choice of words, he seemed innocent enough. He was old enough to be my grandfather and he had a friendly face. “Whereabouts you from?” he said as he took a full mug from me. “Because I know every pretty girl on this side of the mountain, and I ain’t never seen you before.”

  “Georgia,” I said, forcing a smile to remain plastered on my face while my heart hammered against my rib cage. The old me had been born and bred in Texas. The new me was from Michigan and had moved to Atlanta after high school.

  “Georgia,” his friend next to him spat in disgust.

  But a man at the next table perked up at the mention, keeping his gaze on me.

  I placed a mug of beer in front of the Georgia-hater and winked. “Obviously, I learned the error of my ways. I’m here in Tennessee now, aren’t I?”

  The table let out an uproarious wave of laughter. I glanced up at the bar and saw Max pulling the tap as he filled a mug, but the approval on his face let me know he was pleased. A happy boss was a good thing. I hoped I could keep it up.

  I took the tray to the table with the man who’d perked up at the mention of me being from Georgia.

  “Y’all from around here?” I asked.

  Four men sat at the table and two of them snickered. “Honey, we’re all from around here.”

  I cast a glance at the sandy-brown-haired guy. “You got family in Georgia, then?”

  He stared up at me in surprise and confusion.

  “I just noticed you took interest when I mentioned my home state is all. Was looking for a fellow Georgian.”

  The guys at the table turned to the man with perplexed expressions.

  “You got kin down in Georgia, Dewey?” one of his friends asked. “How come this is the first I’ve heard of it?”

  Dewey shot me a glance that suggested I was an imbecile. “Not me. Looks like Sweet Thing here is anglin’ for more tips.”

  He was lying. He’d been interested, and his denial only made me nervous.

  I cocked my head to the side and gave him a beaming smile. “Just tryin’ to be friendly. It’s not always easy bein’ the new girl.”

  “We’ll make you feel welcome, Carly,” a man at the next table said.

  I nodded in acknowledgement but kept Dewey in my sights. “Nice meetin’ you, gentlemen. I’m sure I’ll see plenty more of you before the night is through.”

  I passed out the rest of the free beers, meeting all thirty or so men. Most of them were friendly, although a few asked me when Lula would be back. I assured them I wasn’t out to steal her job. One man sat by himself in the corner, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. He looked to be about sixty and was so rail-thin I suspected he’d blow away in a strong wind. I could tell that he’d gone a few rounds in life and hadn’t ended up winning any of them. My heart went out to him, so I respected his space and left the beer in front of him.

  Once I’d passed out the free drinks, Ruth pulled me over and gave me a beaming smile. “You’re doin’ great.”

  “Thanks.” But how hard was it to give away free alcohol? The real test of whether my waitressing skills were still intact would come once I started taking food orders.

  “I see you met Jerry.”

  I gave her a blank look.

  “Jerry”—she nodded toward the door—“The odd duck in the corner. He rents one of Max’s rooms across the street. He keeps mostly to himself, barely talkin’ to anyone, but he likes to hang out here on Monday nights. Most of the guys leave ’im be, but every so often one of ’em gives him a hard time. Max doesn’t tolerate that shit and will kick ’em out quicker than lickety-split, so if you see anyone botherin’ him, you let us know.”

  I nodded, casting a glance at him. Jerry had a quarter in his hand that he tapped on the table while staring at his beer. His gray hair hung over his ears, though the length looked like less of a style choice and more of a lack of maintenance.

  Ruth leaned in closer. “His wife died about five years ago. Her income paid the mortgage and Jerry lost his home. Max put him up in number one at the Alpine Inn. He says Jerry lives on social security, but it ain’t a lot, so I don’t think Max charges him much to stay there. We always slip him meals and tell him that Bitty or Samson screwed up an order in the kitchen, otherwise he won’t take it. He’s strange, but he’s harmless.”

  If I was looking for proof Max, Ruth, and Tiny were good people, this was surely it. They reminded me of the friends I’d left behind in Arkansas, and I let my guard down a tiny bit. “I’ll look out for him. I haven’t seen him eat since he got here an hour ago. I’ll make sure he gets something soon.”

  Ruth smiled. “I knew you had a good heart.”

  Her compliment made me smile. “Thanks.”

  I started taking food orders, and when I took them to the back, I told Tiny that Jerry was in my section.

  He nodded and gave me a warm grin. “I’ll have something up for him soon.”

  The median age of the Monday Night Football crowd was around fifty or sixty, which made sense given what Wyatt had told me. If the town had run on tourism and all the visitors had stopped coming, most of the younger guys had probably moved away to find jobs.

  At a certain point in the evening, there was enough of a lull that Ruth and I retreated behind the counter with Max for a momentary break. I’d decided my waitressing skills were mostly still intact, but before I could say as much to Ruth, I heard a dull roar of engines outside.

  She shot me a look with raised eyebrows. “Now the real action starts.”

  “What?”

  She gave me a
tight smile, then headed out to check on her section, asking if anyone needed refills. I was about to do the same, but Max grabbed my arm and held me in place.

  “Wait.”

  I turned to him in surprise and my stomach churned when I saw the worry in his eyes.

  The door burst open and a group of men walked through the door, younger and rougher than the early crowd. While the older men didn’t have any women with them, some of the new guys did. They settled in at tables behind the first group and shot Ruth expectant looks as she walked over to greet them.

  I glanced up at Max, but he shook his head. “Not yet.”

  Something about his tone made me nervous, but we both waited behind the counter until the last of the stragglers were seated. Max’s eyes hardened as he pulled the remote from under the counter. “Follow me.”

  I followed like a dutiful puppy, stopping short just to his left.

  A few of the new guys had already noticed me and were eyeing me like I was a grade A sirloin steak. Others looked downright hostile.

  Max flicked a button on the remote and the sounds of the game immediately silenced. A loud groan of protest went through the crowd, but Max just stood there until the men quieted. Someone’s eyes flicked to his right leg, and I swallowed a gasp. He had a huge hunting knife strapped there. Just how dangerous was this place?

  “Gentlemen,” he said just like he’d started his previous speech, but his earlier teasing tone had been replaced with an edge of warning. “This is Carly. She’s filling in for Lula. I have no idea where Lula went, nor do I know when she’ll be back. But until she returns, Carly’s been kind enough to fill in. You will treat her like the lady she is, and if you don’t, Tiny’ll kick you so hard in the ass you’ll be shitting out your ears, and that’s after I get done with you. Any questions?”

  A few men gave me an inquisitive look, but everyone remained silent.

  “I’d also like to add,” Max said, sounding more good-natured, “that Tiny’s taken a shine to Carly, so he’s bound to be extra contrary if you step out of line. Capisce?”