NOVA
The rest of the week is slow and filled with tension at school and at home. I’m no closer to getting to know my grandparents or finding out anything about my mom and why she left home than when I arrived. I haven’t seen Rory or Astrid much. It seems my first few days of denying dinner with them set the tone, because no one has asked me to join them in the last couple of days. I eat from the buffet that’s laid out in the morning, and there’s always a silver domed plate left near my door for dinner.
Strangely enough, it’s lonelier than when I lived alone. Sometimes, I feel like a ghost walking around the house because it feels so empty. Even arguing with Alden seems fun at this point, but it’s Saturday and I have my first shift at Hooker’s bar and grill. Unfortunately, I feel obligated to tell Rory, so that’s why I’m searching the house for him at seven o’clock to no avail.
Finally, I head into the kitchen. There’s always staff in there, so if this doesn’t work, I’m going to have to call him, and for some reason, I don’t want to do that. It feels weird since I think we’re technically in the same house.
“May I help you, Miss Devlin?” I startle a little at the voice that comes from behind me.
Bridget gives me a weird smile like she knows she scared me and feels bad for it, but something about it feels fake.
“I was looking for Rory,” I answer, then shift to the side so she can join me in the kitchen from the hall.
“It’s Saturday. He and Mrs. Umbra are out.” She delivers the information like it’s something I should have already known.
“Oh, okay.” That makes things easy for me. I don’t stick around after. My Hooker’s T-shirt is already tucked into my bag as I head out to my car. Before I start the engine, I shoot off a quick text message to Rory to let him know I’m leaving the island, and then I put my phone on do not disturb just in case he decides to ask where I’m going so I’ll have a good reason not to answer. I just need to make sure I don’t look at the screen to see any notifications.
Since it’s pretty early for the bar crowd, I’m able to find a spot in the back of the bar’s parking lot. I’m a little leery to leave Mabel, my newly named pride and joy, parked here, but I think parking on the street might be worse.
I pull open my bag and slip the T-shirt over my head, then tug my long hair out of the collar. It’s hard to ignore the words scrawled across the front of the shirt, especially after the encounter with Morningstar in the union. I never would have made the association if it weren’t for him and his insistence about me being a sex worker, but now when I look at it, I think of him, which pisses me off. The jerk takes up enough space in my head without the added distraction.
I lock up my SUV, then head into the bar. There’s a pretty girl near the door wiping down menus, and she looks up as I enter. “Hey.” Her smile is easy as her eyes stray down to see my shirt that matches the one she’s wearing. “You must be the new hire. I’m Amanda.”
“Nova,” I reply. “Is there a place I can put my bag?”
“Sure.” She leaves the menus on the hostess stand, and I follow her through the tables, past the bar, and to a door that reads, “Staff Only.”
“You can use one of the open lockers. Do you have a lock?” She eyes me.
“No, I didn’t think to bring one.” I probably should have, but in my defense, I’ve had a lot going on recently.
“I don’t mind sharing mine,” she offers kindly. “But you’d probably be fine anyway. We’ve never had a problem before, and nobody really messes with Jimmy.”
“Thanks, but I don’t want to put you out. I’ll pick up a lock before my next shift.” I reach in and pull my wallet out of my purse just in case. There isn’t much cash in there, but I want to keep what I have, plus I don’t want to deal with replacing my license or anything. I shove the thing in the back pocket of my jeans on the opposite side of my phone—I’m sure it looks a little strange, but I don’t really care—then I put my bag in the first empty locker.
“I’ll show you how to clock in on the register.” She gestures for me to follow her out of the small back room.
“There she is, how’s it going, darlin’?” Mickey booms through the bar, even though there’s no need for him to be so loud.
“Good, thanks. How are you?”
I creep toward the bar area to hear his response. “Better now that I have another pretty face to look at.” He bounces his gaze between me and Amanda, who smiles good-naturedly at him.
“You’re such a flirt, Mickey.”
“Ain’t nothing wrong with making a woman feel good. My wife would agree.” He winks. “She would also feed me to my dogs if I ever did anything but run my mouth, not that I would. That woman was sent to me from the lord himself.” He makes this funny little noise of appreciation that sounds like a hum.
“I was just going to show Nova how to clock in,” Amanda continues as if she’s heard all this before.
“I got it. I need to run a few things by our little star before we get busy anyway.” Mickey shoos Amanda away from the bar, then throws the towel he was using to wipe his hands over his shoulder and heads straight for me.
“Pretty sure Jimmy got you all set up in the computer,” Mickey mumbles as if he’s speaking to himself and then twists the screen of the ordering computer toward us. He hits a little house icon near the bottom left of the screen, then tags the button for the timeclock before walking me through the process. I’m instructed to pick a six-digit number as my login code that will also serve as my employee number for placing orders. I learned Mickey’s last time. He uses 123456, which is almost laughable. I bet everyone in the place knows his number.
The ordering system is easy enough to pick up, but I spend time entering each order while we’re slow to practice while Mickey does all the pouring. Before long, the empty seats begin to fill, and the noise level rachets up until Mickey is shouting orders from across the bar for me to enter. We work well as a team, with me bending to get to the coolers with the bottles and handling most of the drafts, while he pours all the liquor and mixed drinks.
The short apron I tied around my waist is padded with bills and I’m sweating, but the smile on my face is genuine when I approach Mickey to ask if I can run to the bathroom while we have a slight lull.
“Hurry back, darlin’, I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be a busy one tonight.”
I have to turn sideways a few times to get through the crowd, but I make it to the bathroom quickly. While I’m washing up, I blot a little cold water on my face and neck with the paper towels before pitching them into the trash and pushing back out into the crowd.
I should have been more careful and paid better attention to my surroundings instead of rushing back to the bar. If I did, there’s no way I would have ended up in the middle of somewhat familiar faces.
“Holy shit, look who it is!”
Someone else snickers. “And she’s advertising her services right on her shirt.”
“What kind of discount do we get for multiples? I got a twenty, or make that a ten,” the guy behind me says as he grabs my hip and pulls me back so I can feel him pressed up against my butt. There’s a single second that passes where I’m afraid to act because I’m too worried about losing my job like the old me would have been, but then instinct kicks in, and I throw my elbow back as hard as I can into his surprisingly hard gut and wrench myself away from him.
A hand wraps around my wrist, and I spin to fight that off too, but it’s not one of the guys from school—it’s Jimmy, and he looks even more pissed than usual. Once I realize it’s him, I stop fighting, and he releases me while stepping between me and the group of guys. “Go back to the bar, Nova,” he tells me softly while still eyeing the group.
I hesitate for just a second. I want to tell him not to make a big deal about it, because I’m the one who will have to deal with the fallout at school, but I stop myself. Even if Jimmy offered to buy them a drink, these guys would still treat me like crap the first chance they got, so I turn my back and walk away, knowing I’m going to pay for it later.
The rumble of Jimmy’s voice carries for just a few seconds as I station myself behind the bar. Mickey is eyeing the same direction I just came from, but I don’t know if he saw what happened.
I try to pretend everything is fine and that I wasn’t manhandled and called names by a couple of preppy jerks and ask, “What do you need?”
Mickey focuses his knowing eyes on me for a brief moment, then his gaze shutters before he turns away. “Need a bucket of Coors for Lindsey and a couple of them fruity lemonades for Sarah.”
I get straight to it, scooping a few shovels of ice into one of the dented metal pails before shoving six bottles into the ice to place it down near the end for pickup.
Within five minutes, I notice Jimmy is back at the table I’m starting to think of as his with a few other men. I scan the bar for the guys from school but come up empty, allowing me to relax a little.
“Last call!” Mickey shouts through his hands cupped around his mouth. I glance at the clock, then approach him in confusion.
“It’s not even midnight.”
“Can’t serve alcohol after twelve on Saturdays.” He grins at me and tips his head back to consume a shot of amber liquid.
“Want one?” He offers me the glass.
“No thanks,” I reply with my hands held up. The last thing my kidneys need after barely any water today is liquor.
Mickey winks. “Smart girl.” It makes me wonder if it was some sort of test, but somehow, I feel like I would have passed even if I would have taken the drink.
We’re slammed for the next fifteen minutes with orders. I even run out of buckets to serve the bottles in, but they still get delivered six bottles at a time. Mickey hastily pours into two glasses at the same time, barely spilling anything as he finishes his last two mixed drinks and backs away from the bar for the patrons to grab their orders.
Amanda comes jogging up and leans over the bar, trying to get one final order in, but Mickey shuts her down with a shake of his head and his finger pointed to the clock.
“Shoot, he was a good tipper too.” She pouts as she spins to go tell the customer it’s too late.
“So, aside from the dickwads, how was your first night?” Mickey flips the towel off his shoulder and starts wiping the bar. I bet it’s not even a conscious thought, because it seems more like a habit.
“Good, it went by fast,” I answer, telling him the truth. Bobcat’s was busy, but nothing like this fast-paced environment. Hooker’s doesn’t even serve food after ten.
“Think you can handle Friday next week? It’s even busier.”
“I’ll manage, as long as I’m not slowing you down.”
“Ha! It might just be that you’re prettier than a picture, so nobody cared about the wait, but I got no complaints from anyone tonight, and that’s got to be some kind of record.”
I grin. Like I said, this place is good for my ego and my wallet. “What can I do to help with closing?”
“Be still my heart.” Mickey feigns at grabbing his chest. “If I were forty years younger and didn’t have my Molly, I might just put you in my pocket.”
I roll my eyes, but I smile while I do it. Mickey’s eyes go up above my head, and his expression shifts. “You take care of them idiots?”
I look over my shoulder, then shift to the side when I realize Jimmy is standing right behind me.
“You know them?” he questions instead of answering Mickey.
“No,” I reply, giving him the truth, but his eyes narrow as if he thinks I’m lying. “I don’t, but I think they go to the same school I do.”
“What school is that?” He crosses his arms over his chest.
“Cadieux,” I admit softly. Honestly, I’m not sure he can do much more than read my lips since the bar is still pretty loud as people finish their drinks while chatting, but I know he understood when one corner of his lip lifts in a sneer.
Dang it, I knew there was a reason I didn’t want to tell him where I went to school. Guys like them probably come in causing trouble all the time.
“I just transferred in,” I defend, hoping I’m not going to lose my job because I go to school with them. “I didn’t ask them to come, I didn’t even want them to know I worked here.”
Jimmy misunderstands me. “Are we not good enough for you?”
“No.” I put conviction behind the single word, offended that he would think that of me, but I guess we are judged by the company we keep, and it could look like they are my kind of people since I go to school there.
“What then?” he demands, his arms crossed over his barrel chest.
“Quit giving her a hard time, you jackass. Anyone with eyes could see she didn’t want anything to do with them rich pricks,” Mickey defends.
“I didn’t want them coming in here and giving me crap. I get enough of that at school,” I explain a little too honestly.
“Why do they give you shit?” Jimmy’s gaze isn’t any less shrewd.
“Because I’m not like them,” I answer with only a little of the truth. The real reason they don’t like me is a mystery only Morningstar could solve, but I doubt he ever will, at least with any real motive other than he hates me because I was born into a family he despises for yet another reason I may never know.
“That island is a dangerous place,” Jimmy warns, but I’m still not convinced he believes me.
“I’ve been told,” I agree.
“Those founding families think they can get away with anything,” he continues.
“Like what?” I don’t mask how curious I am to know more about the island, the founders, and even the school.
“Anything,” he snaps. “Their money spends just the same as everyone else’s, so I allow them in the bar, but I’m not going to have a problem here, got it?”
“Got it,” I reply, still meeting his now cold stare. Good to know I’m on thin ice. I won’t be putting too much faith in keeping my job here, especially when news gets out that this is where I work. I bet Morningstar would love to see me get fired.
I wonder just how far I would need to go to make sure his influence wouldn’t be felt.
