Page 16 of The Thief

That put a smile on my face.

There were a few ornery customers that I hadn’t won over, but most of them were decent. So far, no one had hit on me or made any derogatory remarks. Since it wasn’t packed, I took the time to get to know everyone. One man prattled on about his love for car restoration, and a Sensor told me all about his former business as a psychic. I’d worked several jobs in recent years, but none of them ever felt right. At least as a server, I could be around people instead of working in a solitary profession.

The square tables in the middle of the room seemed a wasted space since we never got that busy. Most people only sat in them when they were waiting for their turn in a billiards game. Two rows of pool tables ran down to the recessed wall in the back but stopped short to leave enough room by the dartboards. The back wall had a long counter jutting out where customers set their drinks while playing darts. The majority of people either sat at the bar or in one of the booths.

We had three private rooms in the back hall—one at the end and two on the right. Like most clubs, they were soundproof, and we rented them out by the hour. The bathrooms on the left were in dire need of renovation. The stalls had been painted at least twice, evident by the peeling paint on the doors, and the mosaic tile was straight out of the 1960s.

An uproarious group by the door snagged my attention. In walked Calvin, pushing a giant jukebox strapped to a dolly. Someone wolf whistled at the sexy design.

“Well, good lord. You actually did it.” I ran my fingers over the sleek vintage machine. “Don’t they have digital ones now?”

Calvin stared daggers at me. “It’s the only one the guy had in his warehouse.”

I squinted at the songs and artists. “I guess we won’t have any music made after 1989 playing in here. It’ll be like traveling back in time.”

“I’ll just take the damn thing back,” he growled.

“Calm down,” I said, patting his leather vest. “I’m only teasing. She’s a real beauty. This is gonna be a hit. Just you wait and see. And look at it this way: you’ll make a little money on the side. Maybe you can buy one of those slot machines that award winners a free pitcher of beer or other small prizes. Or an arcade machine!”

Calvin mumbled colorful profanities as he wheeled the heavy jukebox to the back of the bar. He was obviously jaded and despised change, but I wanted to remind him what he’d once loved about owning a business. My intuition told me that Calvin wasn’t in it solely for the money—that he’d once had dreams. He just didn’t know how to make it work.

I wanted him to succeed. More money for him meant more money for me.

Would he get rid of the saddle stools? Probably not. Perhaps he’d change his tune if I hid Kevin’s pants.

“Mercy, are you keeping out of trouble?”

Was that Montana?

I whirled around and spotted my packmates striding through the door. “Are you fellas checkin’ up on me?”

Montana looked like a bad boy in a black cowboy hat and supertight T-shirt that showed off his tough physique. Instead of coming over to talk, he tipped his hat and followed Calvin, who was pushing the jukebox to the back wall.

Filing in behind Montana were Archer, Virgil, and Bear.

In his tattered jeans, leather belt, and favorite Introvert T-shirt, Virgil set his eyes on Amy and prowled toward her.

“She’s married,” I informed him as he walked past me.

He abruptly pivoted and made a beeline for the pool tables instead. “I’ll have the house special!”

From the back of the room, Montana glared over his shoulder at him. “Are you shitting me? After what happened last time?”

“Make it a double.” Virgil dropped his brown fedora onto a table. “I’m feeling frisky tonight.”

Archer put his arm around me, and I instantly got a whiff of coconut. “He didn’t get lucky last night.”

“That’s more information than I needed to know.”

Archer chuckled. “Just giving you a heads-up since your room is across from his. He’s been crawling the walls for some action.”

“Women don’t usually come in at this hour, so the only action he’ll be taking home is his imagination. What are you boys doing here so early?”

He lowered his arm from my shoulder and scratched at the stubble on his jaw. “It’s our day off. Remember? It was Bear’s idea to hang out here for a while.” While heading to the pool table, Archer turned around and, walking backward, said, “Oh, and Montana is the designated driver. So nothing for him.”

“What can I set you up with?”

“I’ll have a whiskey neat. Bring Taz a carton of milk.”

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