Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
A strong arm pushes me out of the way. “Careful, you’ll cut yourself,” Matt says anxiously. He’s brought a rag with him and begins soaking up the spilled liquid.
“I’ll clean it,” I say, mortified by my clumsiness.
He pushes my hands away again. “Go clean yourself up. There’s beer dripping down your legs, Mags.”
“Let me help—”
“I can handle it.”
He looks annoyed with me and I don’t blame him. I just made a huge mess and I feel terrible that Matt is the one cleaning it up.
I swallow, nod, and rise to my feet. I spot Trisha by the counter, watching me with concern as I hurry toward the employee lounge. But my friend doesn’t follow me, most likely because she doesn’t want to make any more waves with Lynda.
There’s a small bathroom in the back of the lounge, and I head for it, pulling paper towels out of the dispenser and wiping down my beer-soaked ankles. When I exit the bathroom, I see Jeremy Henderson striding into the lounge.
“What the hell was that?” he booms.
His harsh voice sends a cold knot of dread to my gut. The tall, balding man is absolutely seething as he approaches, tailed by Lynda, whose expression displays both worry and disapproval.
“Are you all right?” she surprises me by asking. At least one of them is concerned about my well-being.
“I’m fine. I…I’m sorry, it was an accident,” I say shakily. “I lost my grip and…” I drift off, hating the pleading note in my voice. “It won’t happen again.”
“Damn right it won’t happen again,” Henderson snaps back. “You’re fired.”
I stumble backwards. “What? You’re firing me because I dropped a tray?”
His features harden. “I’m firing you for being unable to conduct yourself in a professional manner.” He lifts his hand to tick off each point with his fingers. “You’ve been late on more than one occasion. You changed the weekly schedule to suit your own personal needs. And you just caused a scene in front of a room full of customers. Clean out your locker, Ms. Reilly.”
“Mr. Henderson—” I protest.
“Jeremy,” Lynda starts with a frown.
He interrupts both of us. “Don’t argue with me. The bar has already been getting bad reviews after the menu overhaul, and the scene out there did not help the Olive Martini’s reputation. You no longer work for this establishment, Ms. Reilly. Is that understood?”
I blink back the hot tears prickling my eyes. “Understood,” I mutter.
“Good. Now clean out your locker.”
28
Maggie
Normally I’m home from the Olive in the wee hours of the morning. Tonight, I walk through the door at ten o’clock.
Ben’s lounging on the couch watching TV. His head pops in at my entrance. “Hey,” he says in surprise. “Why are you home so early? Did—shit, are you crying?”
“No,” I lie stupidly. I’m visibly teary-eyed.
In a flash, he’s off the couch and across the room. “Hey, don’t cry,” he says roughly, pulling me into his arms. “It’s okay, Red.”
“It’s not okay.” Gulping back more tears, I allow myself a few seconds of being surrounded by Ben’s strong arms. Then I ease out of his embrace. “I got fired tonight.”
“What?” he exclaims.
“The owner of the bar fired me.”
“What? Why?”
I can’t help the bite in my tone. “Messing with everyone’s shifts, for one.”
The guilt that fills his blue eyes confirms my earlier suspicions. Ben was behind Trisha’s game of Musical Shifts.
“Fuck,” he mumbles. He clears his throat. “Babe. I have something I need to tell—”
“I already know.” I pin him down with a hard look. “You got Trisha to take my shift so we could go to the Bahamas.” My mean expression doesn’t last, as a weary sigh floats out. “Don’t worry, your little trick wasn’t the only reason I was let go. I’ve been late a couple times. Oh, and I dropped a tray.”
He looks dumbfounded. “You dropped a tray.”
“Yep. Broke a couple of glasses, spilled some beer on the floor.”
“You were fired for that?”
“To quote the owner, I caused a scene.”
“That son of a bitch.”
More tears well up, and I give a small sniffle. “That son of a bitch was signing my paychecks. And now…” The tears spill over
“Now what?”
“Now I can’t pay the rest of my tuition. I still owe the college for this semester.”
“I’ll pay it,” Ben says instantly.
“You’re not paying my bills.” I swipe at my eyes with the sleeve of my sweater. “I’ll figure out a way. Maybe the bank will give me a loan.”
“Let me handle it. Please.”
I gaze into his pleading eyes and shake my head. Firmly. “No, Ben.”
“Goddammit, Maggie, just let me take care of you.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. It’s so tempting to say yes. Take care of me. Pay my tuition so I can graduate from college. Don’t ever, ever leave me.
But the words are stuck in my throat.
“You can’t do it, can you? You can’t let anyone else carry some of your burden.” He exhales slowly. “Why won’t you let me help?” Now he inhales. “Why won’t you let me in?”