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“Hi, Penny, what can I do for you?” he asked.
“I was wondering about the management job. I’d like to apply.”
He raked his eyes over my clothes, and I felt underdressed. With his grey dress slacks, and white button down, I felt I should be wearing a pencil skirt and silk blouse to apply. Maybe this was a bad idea.
“I’m kind of looking for someone different.” He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, tugging his tie loose. “Man, it’s hot.”
My disbelieving eyes grew at the audacity he would discount me so easily. He didn’t even give me an opportunity to list my qualifications.
I squared my shoulders and raised my chin. “Well, Richie said he thought I’d be a good fit for management.”
“Penny, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.” I saw a seagull land off the back deck as my e
yes returned to Theo and I kind of hoped it would shit on his head.
“You were late today, are you always late to work?”
Damn. I gazed at him with what I hoped was a doe-eyed expression as I tried to figure out what to say.
This wasn’t going at all as planned, but I tried to make the best of the situation. Always the optimist, or so I pretended. “No sir, I’m never late. Most days I’m early. I work hard, and I’m always the first person called when they need a shift covered. But today I was pulled over.”
“So you want to be the boss, huh?” His eyes bore into mine as I shifted on my feet. “I would start by being on time for work in the future. Maybe leave your house earlier, so you aren’t speeding.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, giving him a nod before turning away.
An older woman with a bright orange and green moo moo dress called me over, and I was happy to escape him.
I conversed with her as Theo walked around glancing at different things. He never let go of the clipboard in his hands, taking notes every so often with a pen he perched behind his ear.
Sexiness oozed from him. It was hard to believe this cocky as hell man was the same one from the beach.
By the next day, it was obvious he didn’t know the first thing about running a bar. On Wednesday, he wanted me to alphabetize the liquor bottles, which, of course, made me laugh in his face. I thought he was joking. He wasn’t. I told him no functioning bar could run that way. Bottles were displayed according to well, call, and brand names. He listened stone faced as I explained how the phrase ‘top shelf’ actually meant the bottles on the top shelf were better quality, as well as more expensive. It applied in all bars, not because they’re organized alphabetically.
When he wasn’t walking around with his clipboard, endlessly taking notes, he spent most of his time on the phone, or joking with other employees. They appeared to love him. I felt like I was the only one concerned our new owner knew little to nothing about the industry. I wanted the management position, and one way or another I would show him I was the best person for the job. My resolve strengthened to never tell him who I was. He didn’t make it easy though. Watching how he would nibble on the end of a pen, or run it across his lips, when he thought about a new ridiculous idea for the bar, made me want to strangle his neck while I kissed him.
By Thursday, I was sure he lost his mind when he wanted all of us to stop what we were doing to acknowledge each time a guest entered or left the establishment with a ‘hello’ or a ‘goodbye.’ Sure, it was a fun idea in theory, but it was impractical.
Friday came and Theo still had no clue, but I gave him one thing—he wasn’t giving up. He had a big heart, which was evidenced by how he let some of the older locals tell him story after story about the ‘good ol’ days.’ He would lean on the bar, his dark eyes lighting with laughter, as he listened. He worked hard, I could begrudgingly admit, even though the work he did was all wrong.
“What do you think?” Fiona asked as she leaned against the bar.
“Of?”
“Mr. Sullivan. Too bad he’s our boss and not a customer. I’d flirt my ass off with him. So damn handsome.” She closed her eyes for a moment and made an “Mm” sound.
“I don’t think he’ll last. So maybe you’ll get lucky.” Vomit. I wanted to vomit as I played with the top of a Vodka bottle in the well by my side.
“Apparently he has a ton of great ideas.” Her dark hair flew around her face as a breeze swept in. “Not that we’ve seen any yet.” She smiled.
“Yeah, I don’t think this guy would know a good idea if it slapped him in his bearded face. He’s just another pompous asshole, playing bar owner, and I’m sure he’ll run this place into the ground.” My cheeks heated, my heart pumping, maybe I was being unfair, but so was he. Two more times I approached him about the management position and both times he shot me down.
“If he runs it into the ground then I guess it’s time to start looking for another job.” She winked as she walked away. The problem was I didn’t want a new job; I liked the Goat.
My eyes traveled to the spacious patio with its more than half empty wooden seats. People would rather spend their days at the Clevelander or The Mango Tropical Cafe than to come here. A gentle ocean breeze stirred the loose strands of hair escaping my ponytail as I stood behind the bar watching the waves crash in the distance.
“And she wants to be manager.” I jumped at the sound of Theo’s weighty voice behind me. He motioned to an empty lounger with his head. “Would you like to take a nap, Boss?” he quipped.
