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“It’s going to take Trace a little while to get this going. My advice is to spend at least ten minutes getting your anger under control. Then we can have a whiskey and talk.”
I stared at Cain then back at the bag. I nodded curtly.
“Thanks.”
He left me alone. I took off my jacket and cracked my knuckles. Then I went to town.
Chapter Nineteen
Parker
“Okay, so say hello while you hand over the menus and ask them what they want to drink. Write everything down. Even if you can remember, it helps us keep track of what’s selling.”
I nodded eagerly. Michelle was training me today. She didn’t work here regularly anymore. She was in college, studying to become a social worker. But since she owned the place with her husband, she still trained the staff and filled in when needed.
Of course, that was only if Mason was in the room at all times. He watched her like a hawk. It was really cute. He was gruff and rough around the edges, but watching him with his wife made him a lot less scary. She’s a good teacher, I thought as I hustled to my first table, and I really liked her.
Plus, I’d heard she was the best waitress they’d ever had. Even Cass said so, and she’d grown up working here.
“Hi, I’m Parker and I’ll be your waitress. Can I start you off with drinks while you look at the menu?”
“Just beer and nachos. Tell Shorty to make them hot. Extra sour cream.”
I scribbled furiously, sure I wouldn’t remember the shorthand. I stopped by the bar to check with Michelle. She helped me correct it all on a new ticket while Jaken filled a pitcher with beer. I grabbed mugs with one hand and carried everything back over before I clipped the ticket in the window for Shorty.
“Nachos with extra sour,” I said, feeling proud that I’d remembered the shorthand. “Oh, and he said he liked them hot.”
Shorty bent down to the window and smiled at me. He was so tall he nearly scraped the ceiling. He was a giant, but I was pretty sure Shorty was the nicest giant alive.
“You got it, Parker.” He winked. “You’re doing good.”
“Thanks, Shorty.” I grinned and headed back to the floor. Michelle had said to skip water unless they asked for it or if it was a family or something. If they were wearing leather and drinking beer, they usually didn’t want it.
“Now what?” I asked, waiting for Michelle to give me my next instruction. It felt good to be busy. It felt even better to be useful.
“Let’s set you up at an empty table with side work. You can keep an eye out and make it easier at shift change.”
I nodded happily and followed her to the back.
The day passed quickly. It was getting dark out already. I wasn’t working the night shift, but the turnover wasn’t for another hour. The Jar got more and more crowded as five PM came and went. The customers were changing too.
There were plenty of blue-collar guys grabbing a beer on their way home from work. Fewer families, and way fewer women than the lunch crowd. There were a few who looked extra-dolled up for this time of day on a Wednesday, but it quickly became obvious that they were trolling for men.
A very specific kind of man, I realized.
Men who were dressed like Shane. Bikers. I watched as the women preened and tried to get the guys’ attention. They also all seemed to have a thing for Jaken.
The bartender pretty much ignored them, other than making them drinks.
I could only imagine how they would act if Shane was here. He was pretty like Jaken, and he wore leather and oil like it was part of his skin. I wondered if I would be able to stop myself from clawing their eyes out if they made moves on him. I knew he must be crawling with women with the way he looked, never mind his brute strength and all the other amazing things about him. It was stupid and irrational, but the thought of Shane with someone else made my heart feel like breaking.
It’s not your business or your place to worry about, Parker.
I grabbed some menus when another group came in and took the last remaining table. I handed out the menus and did my little speech, pulling out my pad. A lot of people rattled off their orders fast without looking at the plastic-coated menus. Mason’s place had a lot of regulars.
“Are you on the menu, sweetheart?”
I stiffened but did not lose my smile.
“No. Did you want something to drink?”
“That’s a damn shame,” he said, stroking the sides of his moustache. “What if I give you a real big tip?”
His friends laughed at the double-entredre.
“Don’t get the girl’s hopes up, Nelson. I heard it’s not that big.”
