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She and Dre had to have this out. All the way out. She couldn’t fix her father, but she could fix this—one way or another. Grabbing her phone, she sent a text.
He’s out of town. And you’re supposed to be
here to open. Either get here now or don’t work
here anymore. I’m sick of this shit, Dre.
A reply came back almost at once.
On my way. Also fuck you.
I’ll pick up my shit tonight.
That wasn’t what Petra had intended. She wanted to hash it out, have the fight, and get over it, but she was too angry to back off. So she doubled down.
All the shit in your free apartment, too?
The dots pulsed for quite a while before a reply emerged.
You’re a real cunt, you know that?
Say it to my face, you entitled brat.
No reply. Eventually, Petra tossed her phone away and tried to focus on the paperwork she couldn’t put off so she could hurry up and get the bar opened on time. She’d worry about Dre when and if they deigned to show up for work.
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~oOo~
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Dre showed up justafter six—if they were ‘on their way’ two and a half hours ago, they must have been in Springfield.
It was Saturday, so six o’clock meant a bar full of regulars having dinner and getting started on their night with wine. Mollie Maine, their live talent for the evening, would arrive around seven. Mollie Maine was two people, Mollie Billings on violin—she called it a fiddle—and occasional flute and Everett Maine on guitar and occasional mandolin, so their ‘sound check’ consisted of one of them tapping on the mic before they sang. They arrived early for the free dinner. Singer-songwriter duo on the regional circuit was not a get-rich-quick scheme.
Petra was running the bar by herself, with Sally serving, and Max and her crew cooking. Since around five, when regulars coming in evolved from a trickle to a stream, she’d been too busy to think about anything but work, so she’d cooled off by the time Dre came in from the back.
They stood at the end of the bar, arms crossed. “I want my check, cunt,” they said, right out loud, in front of everybody. Katie’s jaw actually dropped.
“Dre ...” Katie said. “Easy, hon.” Dre ignored her.
“Can you cover the bar for a bit, Kate?” Petra asked, without acknowledging Dre. “You can drink free for the rest of the night.”
Katie was still eyeing Dre. “Yeah, Pet. Sure.” Before Petra could go to the end of the bar, Katie grabbed her arm. “Be careful.”
Katie was more than a regular. She was a longstanding friend to both Petra and Dre. She knew their history, the highs and the lows.
“It’s okay.” Petra smiled and slipped her arm from Katie’s grasp. She went to the end of the bar. “Let’s go back and talk,” she said to Dre.
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~oOo~
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Neither of them saida word until they were in her office with the door closed. Then Dre stood against it with their arms crossed, glowering.
Petra faced them and crossed her own arms. “We need to talk, Dre.”
