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“All right ladies, we’re movin’ out,” I announced.
Food, I found, was always a good way of getting people’s minds off things, including handsome cops with fancy trucks.
* * *
I madeit to Smithie’s on time because Lenny picked me up and took me in.
The minute Smithie saw me, his eyes rolled to the ceiling and he shouted, “It’s a fuckin’ miracle!”
I smiled at him as I handed him my jean jacket and purse and he handed me my apron and an envelope.
“Your cell’s still in the pocket. The envelope has your tips from last night. Your fuckin’ flea-bitten, ratty-ass sweater is behind the bar.”
“Thanks, Smithie,” I said.
I opened the top of the envelope, which was tucked in, and flipped through the notes. I kept a running tally of my tips, mentally paying bills and buying groceries the minute I made the money. As I flipped through the notes, I decided I’d done a miscalculation because, if my calculation was correct, there were two hundred more dollars than I expected to be there and that was impossible.
I’d remember an extra two hundred dollars. I’d remember an extra two dollars.
It was packed last night but the tips weren’tthatgood.
I flipped through it again and the two hundred dollars were still there.
“Smithie, I think you gave me part of my float.” And part of everyone else’s float too.
Smithie’s head was turned away looking at the stage and he didn’t look at me when he spoke. “Nope. That’s what was in your apron after I cashed you out.”
I stared at him.
“Smithie, there’s an extra two hundred dollars in here. Maybe you accidentally gave me—”
His head turned to me. “It was in your fuckin’ apron.”
“Smithie—” I started again.
His hand went up and he had a funny look on his face. It was then that I knew he’d slipped in the extra money.
I’d started at Smithie’s in the days when Mom was still bad. Back then, I’d drag in after visiting her in the hospital. He knew about Mom and my job at Fortnum’s and now he knew about my car.
My heart clutched, my eyes filled with tears and I opened my mouth to speak, but he leaned into me.
“Don’t fuckin’ cry and don’t say another fuckin’ word. I don’t want this gettin’ around. As far as you’re concerned, that was your take last night. Do you fuckin’ understand me?”
I nodded.
“Good,” he said, turning away from me again. “Get to work.”
I was hoping for a quiet night and it seemed to be going that way. It was a completely different experience, working after having a full night’s sleep and then some.
Before I went to work, and after I’d taken Mom and Ada to lunch and cleaned the house, I called Dad’s hotel just in case he was still there, but they said he’d checked out. Then I called Indy and she was cool with me making up the hours or not, she really didn’t care. Everyone came and went at Fortnum’s and somehow it worked. I asked her if Dad had dropped by but she said she hadn’t seen him.
It was close to closing and I’d had a decent night. I had energy. I had two night’s tips. And I had Smithie’s generosity. If I wasn’t in slow-burn, freak-out zone that would likely escalate to complete hysteria by the time my date with Eddie swung around, I would have actually relaxed.
I was coming back from a bathroom break, leaving the restroom and entering the back hall when I was grabbed by the arm and pulled back.
“Hey!” I shouted, turning around ready to scream, when I saw Dad.
Not good.
