Cardinal (6 page)

Carter sighs. “Duty calls.” He walks backward
from the bar. “Save me a shift drink, Little J.” He smirks as he puts the stir
stick in his mouth to chew.

Ugh!
 
Why did Pete tell him my nickname? 
I step to the side to look around Carter and find my brother across the room. “You’re
in trouble Peter Frances!” I shout.

My brother’s eyes get big. He hates his middle
name.

No. He loathes it.

Carter turns around and starts to laugh. “Frances?”

Pete’s scathing look meets a smug one of my own.
Ha!  He wants to share embarrassing things about me?  Score one for Jen.

It’s not long before the bar is packed and I’m running
my ass off. Gwen and Pete were right. It’s a busy night. When the band takes
the stage at nine o’clock, I feel like I’m attending a big-name concert, not
working a local club. Applause and whistles accompany Riptide’s opening song,
and the energy doesn’t stop through the band’s first set. Their music is good,
rock with a bluesy feel, and I fight the urge to dance by timing my drink
slinging skills with the beat. At one point, Gwen and I end up facing each
other and realize we’re doing the same routine. We laugh.

When the band takes a break, our business picks
up. I’m busy pulling a draft when a guy pushes his way through the crowd and
slaps some bills on the bar top.

“Hey, Sweet Cheeks.”

I meet his eyes. “Excuse me?”

“I have something extra for you if you hurry it
up.”

He pushes the money toward me and I scowl. This
isn’t the first time someone has tried to bribe me to serve them before others.
“Not interested,” I say. “These people were here first.”

I turn and hand the beer to the person who
ordered it, earning a two-dollar tip. I start to take the next order when Jerk
Face interrupts.

“C’mon.” He moves into my next customer’s
personal space. “You look like you could use the extra cash.”

Whoa. What?  I pat the growing wad of bills in
my back pocket and get sarcastic. “I have enough money without yours. Keep it
up and I won’t serve you at all.”

A group of people is next in line and they
witness our exchange. One of them speaks up. “Dude. Leave her alone and wait
your turn.”

I shoot him a tiny smile and try to take their
order again.

Jerk Face gets obnoxious. “This is bullshit. No
wonder I haven’t had a decent drink all night. You have no idea what you’re
doing.” He looks me over with disdain. “Who did you fuck to get this job?”

The words
Listen here, Pencil Dick
race
through my mind. If I were at Jay’s I wouldn’t hesitate to rip into this guy,
but I’m a guest at Torque. The last thing I need is for Pete to get in trouble
for bringing his foul-mouthed sister to work, regardless if I’m right and the
customer is wrong.

Before I can say anything, a girl standing by
the bar defends me. “You’re a real asshole,” she says and then meets my eyes. “Do
you want me to get someone?”

“No. I’ve got this.” Stepping forward, I rest
my hands on the bar and lean toward the Douche with cool confidence. “You think
I don’t know my job?”

He snaps, “Did I stutter?”

“Hmm. Right.” I play like I’m unaffected and
tap my chin. “How about this. Since you’re
so
thirsty, I’ll make your
drink right now.” I gesture toward my defenders. “If these people think I can’t
do my job, the drink is free.”

“And if they can?”

“You pay double.”

“I’m not falling for that shit. They’re already
on your side.”

“Then I guess you’d better find witnesses of
your own. The faster you come up with some, the faster you’ll get served.” I step
back and move to take other orders again. “Or, you could just wait for Gwen to
help you over there.” I jerk my thumb toward the opposite side of the bar. “It’s
your call.”

Jerk Face Douche, as I’m now calling him,
curses under his breath. He obviously felt I was inferior and would cave to his
belligerent attitude. Not so. I can tell he doesn’t like being challenged by me,
especially since my new group of friends is staring at him with satisfied
smiles. He turns around and quickly grabs a couple of random strangers. He
tells them about the bet, leaving out the intricate details.

“Good then,” I say and wipe my hands on a towel.
“What’ll it be?”

“Dirty martini,” he says with a smug look.

Really?
I think to myself. Number
one, he in no way, shape, or form looks like a martini drinker. He resembles a
rugby player. Number two, his choice makes it obvious he’s never made a martini.
It may sound like a complicated drink, but it’s not.

 Before I start, I meet the eyes of my support
team to my left. Entertained, they give me encouraging nods. I grab a metal
shaker and toss it in the air. It flips around twice before I catch it with one
hand and set it on the bar. I fill it with a few ice cubes, then grab a bottle
of dry vermouth from the cooler. I look at Jerk Face Douche. “Shaken or
stirred?”

His eyes narrow. “Shaken.”

He doesn’t know the difference,
I think. I
move my hand to the neck of the vermouth bottle and toss it behind my back,
catching it over my shoulder with the opposite hand. This earns me a few “ooos”
from my audience. After I add a splash of vermouth to the shaker, I pick up a
bottle of gin and repeat my theatrics, this time tossing the bottle higher and
in front of me. I add some olive juice to the mix, then shake everything
together. I find a cocktail glass and strain the martini into it, raising the
shaker high above the bar so the liquid pours out in a precarious stream. I
don’t spill a drop. For my final act, I pluck two olives out of their container
and then step back a few feet. I toss them into the drink one at a time.

Plunk. Plunk.

My skills earn applause from both sides. Little
do these people know I only learned to flip bottles to fend off boredom. If
some of my past jobs weren’t so slow, I’d never have practiced with coworkers.

Stepping forward, I lift the glass and hand it
to my customer in complete smart-ass mode. “Your dirty martini. As requested.”

Jerk Face Douche turns to his witnesses, sees
their nods of approval, and knows he lost. He slams thirty dollars on the bar
and yanks the glass from my hand, spilling half of it, and stalks away.

I grin.
Go me.

As I pocket the cash and step forward to continue
working, Gwen sidles up to my side. “Slow down there, Coyote Ugly,” she teases.

She has no idea I was trying to prove a point. “I
was putting an asshole in his place.”

“Oh. I thought you were trying to impress the
boss.”

“Who?”

“The boss.” She nods over my shoulder. “You
know. Latson.”

What?  I turn around and, sure as shit, from
the far side of the bar, Latson is leaning against the wall with his eyes fixed
on me. For some unexplained reason my pulse starts to race. I mean, he looks
like sex on a stick, but I feel like I’ve been caught doing something wrong. I
was showboating a little. At least I was good at it and didn’t embarrass myself
in front of him for once.

I offer him a small wave before I get back to
work. Instead of waving back, or even smiling, he pushes himself off the wall
and makes his way toward me. Now my heart wants to beat out of my chest. I
can’t tell if he looks angry or determined. Am I not supposed to be here?  Is
this why Felix wanted to know if Pete told him I was filling in?

I busy my hands until he reaches me. When he
does, I look up and force a smile. “Hey.”

His eyes bounce from my eyes to my lips and
back again. “Come with me. We need to talk.”

Nervous, I glance around the bar. “Now?  We’re
really busy. I can’t leave Gwen.”
And I’d rather avoid you if you’re mad.

Latson looks past me to see my coworker with
her hands full. He nods. “Fine. But you’re not leaving tonight until we talk.”

I’ve never seen him this serious before. Hoping
to break the tension, I salute. “Yes, sir.”

He almost cracks a smile before walking away.

The rest of the night flies by. Riptide plays
until the bar closes, and I’m running the entire time. When the last of the
patrons are ushered out the front door, Gwen and I start cleaning up the bar
while the band breaks down their equipment.

As I return from taking a trash bag to the
kitchen, Gwen surprises me by shouting, “Round up!” to no one in particular. Seconds
later Carter appears, followed by Felix. They take seats at the bar as my
brother wanders over, along with most of the other staff. Pete sits down in
front of me, and eventually Latson appears and joins a group opposite us. He glances
at me before one of the band members taps him on the shoulder to ask a question.
I give my brother a curious look. “What’s going on?”

“End of the night tradition,” he says. “Time to
unwind before heading home.”

I walk over to Gwen. “What do I do?”

She hands me a stack of plastic cups. “Fill
these with ice water. Most people just want something wet while they talk.”

I do as I’m told and place the cups on the bar
top. Carter takes one. “We didn’t get our shift drink.” He fake pouts.

“We were too busy,” I say. “I don’t think
anyone got a break.”

“Did you see this girl?” Gwen drapes her arm
over my shoulders. “She knows her stuff. I’d like to learn a few of her fancy
tricks.”

“Tricks?” Felix gives me a sly smile. “What
kind of tricks?  Queridos sexy?”

My brother elbows him. I laugh and clarify, “No,
no dirty tricks.”

“Lemme guess,” my brother says. “You went all
Tom Cruise in
Cocktail
.”

“Had to.” I grab a cup of water for myself. “I
needed to prove I knew my job.”

“And that’s why I recruited you.” Pete smiles. “How’d
you do?”

“You mean money-wise?” I think of the stack of
bills in my back pocket. “I’m impressed.” I know I made close to three hundred
dollars.

“Good. Now you can’t be mad at me for asking you
to work during your vacation.”

“True. But I
can
be mad at you for
telling Carter my nickname.” I stick my tongue out at him. “I’d be careful
while you sleep.”

“Your nickname is cute,” Carter chimes in. Then,
he looks at Pete. “Frances though…”  He makes a face.

Pete rolls his eyes, then asks for a draft. Gwen
gets it for him. As I sip my water, I look around the room. Everyone looks so comfortable;
no one is rushing to go home. People joke with each another; the valets talk
with the waitstaff who hangs out with the kitchen crew. No one appears excluded.
I always wondered why my brother never considered another line of work. Now I know.
Even though I’m an outsider, it feels like a big family here at Torque.

Half an hour later, when Pete finishes his beer,
he asks, “You ready to go?”

“Yeah.” It’s late. Standing still for the first
time in hours has allowed exhaustion to creep in. “Let me get my bag.”

I walk over to where I stashed it beneath the
register, and Gwen finds me for a hug. “Thank you so much for helping tonight. There’s
no way I could have done it without you.”

“You’re welcome,” I say into her shoulder. “I
had fun.”

“Me too!” she exclaims.

Pete and I say our goodbyes to Carter and
Felix, and I duck under the bar to join my brother on the other side. We start
to leave when he gets distracted by another coworker who wants to say goodnight.
I decide to keep walking until, about half the distance from me to the door,
Latson steps into my path. He sets his feet and crosses his arms, like there’s
a problem. My walk slows. He notices and smirks, then crooks his finger for me
to come here.

My knees go weak. How can he make that gesture
look hot?

Putting on a confident mask, I make my way over
to him. He cocks an eyebrow. “Were you going to leave without talking to me?”

“Nope,” I lie.

“Huh. It sure looked that way.”

“I was just about to find you,” I fib. “What is
it you wanted?”

He tips his head and eyes me skeptically. He
knows I’m lying. I hold his gaze because I don’t want him to see me sweat,
which turns out to be a bad idea. Those eyes are criminal.

Seconds pass before he finally says, “I want
you.”

I think my heart stops. “What did you say?”

“I want you,” he says again and steps toward me.
“I want to hire you. I know the best when I see it and I need your skills here
at Torque.”

“Jesus.” I let out an exaggerated breath.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I’m quick to recover. The last thing
I need is for him to know I misunderstood his words. “Thanks for the offer, but
I’m not looking for work.”

He frowns. “Why not?  Pete told me about your
job and the apartment.”

He did?  “Then you know I’m only in the city
for a little while. As soon as I can go back home I’m leaving.”

“But, you don’t know when that will be,” Latson
says. “I think you could do well here. Pete said you need to replace your
things.”

I can’t help my twisted expression. “My brother
has a big mouth, doesn’t he?”

Latson ignores my question. “I’m not talking
about a full time job. We’re closed Mondays and Tuesdays as it is. After
watching you tonight I thought –”

“You thought what?” Pete walks up behind us.

“I’m trying to give your sister a job and she’s
being difficult.”

“You what?” Pete scowls at Latson. “No way.”

I stare at my brother in confusion. Why would
he care?  “Excuse me?  You’re the one who told him about my personal life.”

“Only to explain why you’re here and why he’s
never met you before.” He looks at his boss. “Jen can’t work here.”

“Why not?” Latson and I ask in unison.

Pete turns to me. “For the same reason I told
you earlier. This was a one-time thing. I don’t need anyone messing with you.”

I didn’t plan on getting a job while in
Chicago, but having my brother deny me the opportunity is annoying. “Like I said
before, I can hold my own. Who says I’m going to get messed with?”

Just as I utter those words, Carter playfully
pulls my ponytail as he walks by. “See you around, Little J.”

The three of us look at him as he sends a smile
in my direction.

“See?” Pete complains.

Latson looks lost. “What’s the big deal?”

“I don’t want her to get hurt,” Pete says.

“Who would do that?”

My brother pins Latson with a stare, as if he
knows something I don’t. Then, he elaborates, “Jen needs a break. On top of the
fire and her job, she just broke up with her prick of a married boyfriend.”

Gah!
 
How embarrassing!  “Shut up!” I
whisper-yell at Pete.

My reaction doesn’t faze him. Instead, he keeps
talking. “She shouldn’t work here.” He turns to me. “If you want a job maybe
Jules can help you find one.”

“I never said I wanted a –”

“Is it true?” Latson cuts me off.

“Is what true?”

“Your boyfriend was married?”

I let out an exasperated sigh. “Unfortunately,
yes. Can we not talk about it?  I’m trying to forget.” I narrow my eyes at my
brother. “Thanks for bringing it up.”

“Sorry,” Pete mumbles, although he doesn’t sound
apologetic.

Latson’s expression morphs into one of concern.
Whether it’s true empathy or a farce, I can’t tell.

“You need a distraction,” he says.

“Well, yeah,” I concede. “That’s why I left
home.”

He takes a step, then another and another, until
he closes the distance between us. If he moves again, we’ll be breathing the
same air. He stares down at me, and I feel myself getting lost. Is this his
idea of a distraction?

Because it’s working.

“You’re not the kind of girl who is easily
swayed,” he says. “You’re going to do what you want to do.”

I nod. He’s right.

“You just admitted you need something to take
your mind off things,” he continues.

“I did.”

“You
want
a distraction.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Something to keep you busy.”

“Yes.”

“To forget about him.”

“Right.”

“So, you’ll work for me.”

“Okay.”

Wait
.
What did I just say?

Latson’s face lights up. “Excellent.”

My eyes grow wide. “Hang on. I –”

“Dude. What the hell?” My brother steps between
us.

“You heard the lady,” Latson says. “I’m trying
to help. She accepted my offer.”

My brother faces me. “You honestly want to work
here?”

Do I?  I mean, I just agreed out of the blue. My
eyes jump between Latson and Pete. My brother looks stressed while his boss
looks satisfied. It’s too early in the morning to deal with these two.

“You know what?  I’m tired. I’m leaving.” I
start to walk away and Pete follows.

“Jen.”

I turn around at the sound of Latson’s voice.

“I’d like an answer.”

The confident way he looks at me tells me he
knows the answer. He’s certain I can’t refuse. The responsible part of my brain
I’ve been trying to repress while I “do me” is fighting to take over. The part
that says I’d be an idiot to turn down a good paying job. My reason for saying
no was because my time in the city is limited. If Latson knows that and doesn’t
care …

I meet his eyes. “When do I start?”

~~~~

For the last few minutes, I have been
mesmerized by jellyfish.

I didn’t plan to spend my day this way, but I
can’t say that I regret it. Hundreds of delicate, deadly creatures float in
front of me, and I am in awe. They look fragile, but they’re not. They are
transparent, yet complex. They have survived for more than 500 million years
without brains or bones or blood.

At least that’s what the sign at the Shedd
Aquarium says.

When I woke up this morning, I decided to get
out and be a tourist. I had no idea where to go, other than away from Pete’s
apartment. Since I accepted Latson’s job offer my lazy days are numbered.  I
start work in forty-eight hours. I should have known my personality couldn’t
handle an undetermined amount of worry-free time.

As I continue along the glass wall that separates
the sea life from myself, I’m thankful for the advertisement that brought me
here. I never considered visiting an aquarium before, until I saw the sign on
the side of a passing bus. The illusion that I am underwater with these
creatures is relaxing and just plain cool.

“Um, excuse me?”

A small voice and a tug on the back of my shirt
make me turn around. A little boy with a faux hawk and an Iron Man t-shirt stares
up at me.

“I can’t find my uncle,” he says.

I glance around the area. “Where did you see
him last?”

He points over his shoulder. “Back there.”

I scan the exhibit space, expecting to see a
frantic adult. Instead, I find relaxed people enjoying the display. His uncle
must have gone to find security. At least, that’s what I would do.

“I’ll tell you what.” I crouch down to the
little boy’s level. “Let’s walk and find a nice security guard. I bet they can
help us. Sound like a plan?”

He hesitates, then nods.

I don’t want him to be scared, so I hold out my
hand to introduce myself. “My name’s Jen. What’s yours?”

His fingers wrap around the tips of mine. “Oliver.”

“Nice to meet you, Oliver.” I smile and shake
his hand. “I like your name.”

He looks shy at my compliment before I stand to
begin our search. There are exits at both ends of the exhibit, but I’m not sure
which one will bring us closer to the main lobby. I decide to head in the
direction Oliver pointed. Maybe we’ll run into his uncle along the way.

“So, how old are you, Oliver?” I ask as we
start to walk.

“Seven.”

“Have you been to the aquarium before?”

He looks up at me. “Uncle Gunnar brings me every
week.”

Impressive,
I think. “You two must
really like fish.”