I bite back a grin because I can hear the men at the table start to bitch at Prophet as I walk away. They’re definitely not from around here, otherwise, they’d know that this is a biker-run bar and whatanyof the men wearing cuts says is gospel. It’s probably why we don’t get a lot of out-of-towners here. I stop by a few of the tables to check on them and pull the empties, then hurry back to the side of the bar where waitresses wait to get their drinks.
“Gonna need three Buds, one Miller Lite, and a draft of the house brew,” I rattle off to Ash, ticking each one off against the regular who ordered it. When I don’t hear Ash say anything, I glance up at him to see his attention is focused on the table that Prophet’s still standing at, a glower fixed on his face as he watches the four men gesticulating. “Ash?” I prod, trying to bring his attention back to me. “Drinks?”
He mutters something under his breath then quickly grabs the bottles, popping the caps and setting them on my tray before he draws the beer. “Stay away from that table,” he demands.
“What? Why?” I ask.
“Because they’re not staying,” Prophet advises, walking up and dropping three twenties on my tray. “That should cover the pitcher and the tip.” With brows raised, I hand Ash the money needed to cover the pitcher as I watch the four men storm from the bar, their pitcher still sitting untouched on the table.
Nodding, I grab my tray and make my deliveries, then once I’m sure everyone’s good for a few minutes, I quickly clean off the now abandoned table so it’s ready for more customers should any come in. I know the club has talked about possibly adding some themed nights to their repertoire, like karaoke, and possibly even charging a cover charge for the pay-per-view UFC fights since the bar is typically standing room only on those nights. The club watches to make sure we don’t go over the maximum occupancy allotted for the size of the bar, but that way, they’re able to give those of us working those nights a little extra beyond the tips we make.
Personally, whatever brings customers in who are willing to part with their money is perfectly fine with me. I need to start thinking about a new vehicle, and my goal is to pay for it outright since I don’t want any monthly payments. I’ve already asked Holly if she would see if Rebel or even her grandpa would go with me when I start car shopping. I know that dealerships often take advantage of women when they come in to buy a car without a man to back them up. I want to have enough that once I pay for my purchase, I still have a healthy savings account.
The night wears on and I’m starting to lose the pep I had in my step when my shift started. Hopefully, nobody notices as I begin to cash out tabs one by one as we get closer to closing time. One of the things I like during the week is that we don’t stay open as late. The weekends are a completely different story, but I usually have Thursday and Sunday off, then the bar is closed on Mondays for inventory and restocking. I come down and help during those, doing a deep clean that Rebel has said I don’t need to do because we have prospects who come in to mop every night.
But… they’re guys and they don’t get that a spritz of cleaner and a swipe with a rag isn’t sufficient to clean. So, I do it anyway. It’s not like I’m busy, for heaven’s sake. I mean, I’ve been taking online courses forever, and still have a ways to go to complete my program. That’s because I only take classes I’m able to pay for out of pocket. Outside of my bank account, I have a minimal carbon footprint out there, because the last thing I want is for Pace’s brothers to ever find me. Hopefully, this town is small enough they never will. Not to mention, I work for a motorcycle club, and I’d like to think that they’d be a deterrent to those assholes. I mean, I’m not part of the club, but Iaman employee of a club-owned business.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I jump a mile and scream when Prophet walks over and says, “Door’s closed, Marnie.”
“Let me cash my tabs out so Ash can do the registers, then I’ll finish cleaning,” I reply as I head to the bar.
It doesn’t take me long to figure up the tabs and hand Ash the cash, before slipping ten percent into his tip jar that sits on the bar by the cash register. He glares at me, and I shrug. “What? I tip out my bartenders, Ash, even you.”
“I’m one of the brothers, Marnie. You only worry about the civilians we have bartend,” he reminds me.
“It helps me to remember, Ash. If it bothers you so much, then don’t put out a jar when you’re working,” I retort. “Otherwise, I’m giving my cut like I’m supposed to do. You can always donate it to charity or something.”
“Women,” he grumbles as he starts running the register reports. “Go on and head home, babe. The prospects are on their way, and I’ll have them clean.”
Usually, I’d push back, but tonight, I’m tired. It must be close to my period or something because I’m really dragging ass. Instead of giving him any lip, which I know he’s expecting because his brow is raised in preparation, I hand him my tray and ask, “Can you hand me my keys?”
It only took one time for me to lock myself out of the apartment upstairs before I started bringing my keys down with me and putting them behind the bar. I also don’t enter from my apartment; instead, I go out the back then walk around to the front and come inside. It’s another way for me to protect myself from any unwanted attention. As it is, the inside staircase that’s next to the office is locked. It didn’t used to be, but about three years ago, a drunk somehow got all the way up the stairs and was banging on my door. I was actually home sick that night, which sucked because it was a Saturday, but it freaked me out when I made it to the door and looked through the peephole to see a disheveled man that I didn’t recognize.
After that, the club made some security changes. They added a door right after the bathrooms that locks and beyond that is the bar’s office, as well as the door that goes upstairs to my apartment. Both the office and my door are locked, thenmy apartment door is locked at the top of the stairs. Not only that, but they gave me a steel reinforced door that has several deadbolts as an extra precaution. Short of having a protection dog, I’m as safe as I can possibly be. The fire escape is easily accessible although I pray that’s never needed.
I think that’s my biggest fear if I’m being totally honest. Fire. One of the careers I had thought about was in the medical field, especially after the excellent care I received all those years ago, but then I realized that I wouldn’t be able to handle people who were seriously injured. That came about when I had a new roommate during my two-week stay who had been in a house fire. They had second and third degree burns and had to room with me because there wasn’t any room in the burn unit. Their screams during dressing changes still haunt me.
Jingling has me snapping my head up to see my keyring bouncing in front of my nose. “There you are,” Ash chides. “Hopefully, you’re not coming down with something, Marnie. You haven’t been yourself tonight.”
“Just tired, Ash,” I murmur, taking my keys from him. “I’ll see y’all tomorrow.”
I don’t tell him about the gut feeling that’s been getting worse. It’s probably nothing and I refuse to have him or anyone in the club think I’m a hysterical female.
TWO
ASH
My eyes involuntarily follow her departure, zoning in on her delectable ass as it sways with each one of her steps. “She’s a stubborn woman,” I growl out once she’s finally through the door that’ll lead her to the staircase up to her apartment.
Prophet, who just finished wiping the tables down and putting the chairs up, chuckles. “Y’all should just fuck and get it over with, brother.”
My jaw’s clenched so tightly I swear I feel a back molar crack at his response. “She’s got a moral compass or some shit,” I retort. He looks at me, so I continue. “Holly saw the two of us talking at their wedding and flat-out asked me when I was going to put the moves on her bestie. The problem is, Iknowshe’s interested but she won’t act on it.”
“Why the hell not?” Prophet asks, coming behind the bar to the deep sink where he starts filling up the bucket with fresh water. Once it’s got enough water in it, he adds the solution, then replaces the dirty mophead with a new one before he heads back out to the floor and starts mopping. “And before you ask, I know you told her the prospects were coming to do the dirty workbecause she really did look tired, but it won’t take me any time to get this done while you restock the coolers.”
“She told Holly she was worried if things went south that she’d lose her job and place to live,” I admit.
Not that I’d ever fire her if we didn’t work. The thing she doesn’t realize is that there’s so much tension in the air around the two of us when we’re working together, it’s almost combustible. Yet, I feel like there’s more to it than that. I mean, she’s been around since Holly and Rebel got together, so she knows the way things work when a biker finds his one. Or maybe she didn’t pay attention? Hell, I don’t even know any more. I just know she’s got me so fucking tangled up that when I saw that fucker run his hand up the back of her thigh, I nearly jumped over the bar and killed him. Thankfully, Prophet saw it as well, reminded me that the club didn’t need that kind of heat, and he went and resolved that issue.
