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“The suit he wore was bespoke, tailored for him. My daddy was a tailor for forty-three years, only a few places left in Chicago that make a suit that fine.”
I guess my assumption about his shoes was spot-on.
“Why do you ask? Got a crush on the gentleman?” His scratchy laugh makes me giggle as well.
“No, I’ve never even seen his face.” I playfully push against Clyde but my smile falters the second Freddy rounds the corner into the break room, his signature smarmy grin in place already.
“Evening. You two seem awfully chummy tonight.”
“Evening, Mr. Freddy,” Clyde nods toward him before placing his hands on his knees and slowly standing up from the couch. “We’re just having a good time is all.” He pats Freddy on the shoulder twice before exiting the room, tossing me a wink over his shoulder before disappearing.
“Stella.” His grin widens, making my skin crawl as he takes a step toward the couch. I stand up abruptly, afraid he’s going to sit next to me, but he holds out his hand to stop me. “Please, have a seat,” he says, gesturing toward the couch. I sink back down slowly just as he reaches over and closes the door behind him.
My throat constricts, my chest tightening in anxiety as he closes the distance between us, taking a seat next to me.
“Yes, Mr. White?” I keep my voice steady, not wanting him to sense my discomfort. Freddy is exactly the kind of guy you’d expect to own a dive bar—greasy, pudgy, and balding, with the audacity of a man who looks like Jason Momoa. If my creep-o-meter didn’t give him away, his brazen gawking at my breasts every time he’s within a hundred feet of me did. “What can I do for you?”
“That’s a loaded question.” His smile turns sinister, showing his crooked yellow teeth. I don’t respond and his smile falters as he clears his throat. “Look, kid, we both know you’re the star attraction for this place and now that my dearest granny finally kicked it, I can get moving on my plans to turn this place into a fancy establishment and start making some real money.”
My stomach churns at his callousness. “Meaning?”
“Meaning out with the old and in with the new. Tonight is Clyde’s last night, all of them actually. We need some young sexy blood in this place.”
“His last night?” I shoot toward the edge of the couch, then to my feet. “You fired him?”
“Yeah, the entire band. Look it’s not personal, it’s business. They’re old and tired. Nobody wants to look at a bunch of decrepit old men all night. We need some fresh young meat in here.”
The way he keeps referring to it as blood and meat makes my stomach churn even more. “We’re not commodities, Freddy. This place is Clyde’s life. He’s played here for two decades and you’re just going to take that away from him?”
“I don’t know why you’ve got your panties all up in a bunch; you’re not fired.” He hoists himself up from the couch, tugging his pants back up under his belly. He points his fat finger in my face. “And you, of all people, should be fucking grateful because I’m about to make you a very rich girl.”
“I’m not a girl.” I grit the words between my teeth, my fingers balling into fists at my sides. “I’m a grown-ass woman, Freddy.”
His eyes drop down my body slowly. “Yes, you are.” He leers. “And you should start dressing more like it.” He turns toward the door. “I want you here four nights a week and start dressing sluttier. Show your tits more. It’s time we bring in the big fish.” He sticks his tongue out, wriggling it at me before laughing maniacally as he walks down the dark hallway.
Tears prick my eyes as my chest burns. I picture Clyde’s weathered face, his bright smile and the way his eyes light up when he plays. I can’t let this happen, but I don’t know what to do to stop it.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Matilda, my coworker who quickly became a best friend after only a few weeks of working here, looks over at me as she steams some milk.
“Yeah.” I smile at her reassuringly. “I’m fine.” I’ve said the same phrase five times this morning, not only trying to convince her but myself as well. “Just a long night at Freddy’s.”
“Oh, speaking of, I was actually planning on coming by next week. It’s been forever since I’ve heard you sing and my little sis, Chloe, who you met last Christmas, is staying with me for the weekend and she’s dying to see you. I told her we should do a girls’ night to celebrate her twenty-first birthday.”
“That sounds great.” I try to be enthusiastic but the gravity of last night weighs on me. “How is Chloe doing? About to graduate, I assume?”
“Yup, she has one more semester left, then she plans to move up to Chicago with me. Since I’ll be starting my clinical rotations soon and no longer able to work part-time, it’ll be so nice to have someone else help with the bills.”
I nod, grabbing a large bag of coffee beans and pouring them into the grinder as the morning rush continues. Pushing another not so fun thought from my head that my closest friend and favorite coworker is about to be quitting.
“I’ll be right with you,” I say with a touch of frustration in my voice when I hear a customer tap the bell on the counter. I grab another massive bag of beans that’s probably over half my weight and drag it over to the other grinder. “I thought closing shift was supposed to handle these,” I mutter.
“I got it,” Matilda says as she scurries up to the counter from the espresso machine. “Good morning, what can I get for you today, sir?”
I stand back up too quickly, dizziness making me unsteady. I grab the edge of the counter and close my eyes for a second when I hear a deliciously deep familiar voice.
“Coffee, black,” he says sharply.
My hands dart up frantically, wiping away the thin sheen of sweat from my upper lip and shoving my wild hairs that have fallen from my braid back into place. I turn around, keeping my eyes cast down so I don’t meet his gaze. My stomach coils tightly, just like it does every Friday when he comes in.
