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Nodding, I stroll up to the next person in line. “What can I get ya?”
“It’s about fucking time,” the asshole mutters. “I want five beers and three shots of bourbon.”
I bite my tongue while I write down his order and try to do the math in my head. Asshole throws a fifty on the bar and raises his brow. I silently count, but I can’t get the numbers right no matter how hard I try. Just as I grab everything he ordered, my brain fires the answer I’ve been waiting for.
“Forty-two fifty,” I blurt, grinning.
“Here.” He pushes a fifty toward me, and my brain goes haywire again. I send up a silent prayer, hoping he’ll say keep the change, but nope, no luck. He holds out his hand, and I grab two quarters and a five from the register and set it on the bar top in front of him.
“What the fuck is this?” he asks.
“Your ch-ch-change.”
“Bitch, I wasn’t giving you a tip. I want my money.”
“What’s the problem over here?” Waylon asks, pushing me out of the way.
The dick points his finger in my direction. “That bitch was going to pocket the rest of my change she owes me.”
I hold up my hands in surrender. “I swear, I just counted wrong.”
Waylon’s head swings between the two of us. “How much does she owe you?”
“Ten bucks.” He smiles smugly.
I know I don’t owe him ten, but I’m not about to fight with him over it. As I hand the arrogant ass his ten dollars, I bite back my retort.
After the guy walks away, Waylon flips around to me. “What the hell were you thinking keeping ten dollars from a customer without being told to ‘keep the change’?”
“It was an accident, Waylon. I swear,” I plead. “I’ve been here a long time and haven’t ever made a mistake like this.”
“I think I’ll stay here and make sure no more mistakes happen tonight.”
Great, just what I need.
I try to focus on my work, but it’s hard to concentrate with Waylon watching my every move like I’m a thief in the night. Never again will I leave home without my phone charger or backup calculator.
“What’s taking so long?” Waylon asks as I count out the change for another customer.
Every time he interrupts me, I get more flustered. Instead of helping Tony and me, Waylon simply leans against the back counter with his arms crossed. “You’ve been counting that change for over five minutes.”
I might be bad with math, but I can tell time. It’s only been a minute, two at most. “I’m counting his change.”
“How hard is it to give him back six twenty-five?”
“It’s not.” I sigh as I get the correct change.
Jared, Waylon’s best friend and constant thorn in my side, steps up for another beer. He thinks he’s God’s gift to the female species when in reality he’s a slimy worm.
“Hey, Waylon,” Jared calls out. “Did you hire Einstein over here?”
Waylon snorts. “I didn’t hire her. Rogue did.”
“It’s a good thing she has a nice ass and great rack to look at while you wait, otherwise your customers would get bored and leave.”
Waylon and Jared howl with laughter, and my face heats with embarrassment as I fill his order. I can’t even threaten him with my knife. The last thing I need is to get fired for whipping out a weapon and holding it to his jugular. I know Rogue said I wouldn’t have to put up with this shit, but I’m not about to go running to the big guy over some words.
“Unless you want my steel-toed boot to rearrange your dick to an innie instead of an outie, I suggest you keep your comments to yourself.”
