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“What’s wrong, baby?” Glitter asks as she leans toward me. “I thought we had a good time.”
“Oh.” Waylon chuckles. “I interrupted something.”
“You didn’t interrupt shit,” I tell him. “Glitter, out, now.” She opens her mouth to protest, but I wrap my hand around her throat, and not in a fun way. “Look, I know you’re new around here, but when a brother tells you to get the hell out, you get the hell out. Understood?”
Her eyes widen at my tone, and she nods. “Y-yeah.”
When I lower my hand, Glitter scurries from the room like a scared little mouse which is a far cry from the hellcat that graced my bed most of the night. Shit, I’d have preferred the mouse.
Once she’s gone, I turn my attention back to Waylon. “How short was it?”
“Huh?”
“The till,” I bark. “You said it was short last night.”
“Oh, right.” Waylon inhales, and air whooshes through the line when he exhales. “I’ve double-checked it several times, and?—”
“How much?” He rattles off a number, and I’m surprised at how low it is. “You woke me up for that?”
“No, of cou?—”
“Weren’t the computers down all night?”
“Yes, but?—”
“Then I’d expect there to be a few errors.” I heave a sigh. “It was a busy night, and mistakes happen.”
“Normally, I’d agree with you,” he admits. “But only one of the staff’s numbers didn’t add up.”
“Who?”
“Skye’s drawer was short.”
“Tony’s wasn’t?”
“No, in fact, his was over by five cents,” Waylon states.
“Okay, well, you’re the manager,” I snap. “Handle it.”
“Do you really think I’d be calling you if I hadn’t already tried to do exactly that?”
“Don’t get a fucking attitude.”
“Sorry, it’s just…”
“What, Waylon? Spit it out.”
“I don’t know, boss. When I confronted Skye about it, she was evasive, like she was trying to hide something. I think you should talk to her.”
Because I have so much time for that.
“What time does her shift start tonight?”
“Four.”
“Fine. I’ll be in to talk to her.”
I disconnect the call and fight the urge to crawl back into bed. If I have to go into Purgatory tonight, I need to spend the rest of the day getting shit done.
