Page 26 of The Guy in the Alley

I liked the smile that reflected in his eyes. That was my favorite.

“I can’t picture you as a cop,” he admitted.

“Neither could the police academy that kicked me out,” I replied. I’d been a mouthy shit.

Ben rumbled a laugh as he tucked into his soup.

There wasn’t the slightest indication I’d skipped over something important. “In the end…here I am. I did find my happy medium with authority and structure—I became a self-defense instructor. That’s come in handy. I’ve taught some classes too, primarily to women and at-risk teenagers. But otherwise, this is it.” I gave the bar a glance. “Irving Park and Bridgeport don’t matter in the end. I have more memories from running around here with my sister.” I nodded toward the main entrance. “We’d always steal mints from the host’s desk.”

I doused my wings in sauce before I got my hands dirty. Fucking perfect. The best wing sauce out there. It had enough of a kick to set your lips on fire.

“It’s easy to see that the bar is a family member.” Ben dipped the bread in the soup. “I’m sure it’s equal parts love and headaches.”

Damn fucking right.

I side-eyed him and chewed what was in my mouth. “You know what it’s like. You had your business.”

“Hardly since 1896,” he chuckled, though it sounded hollow. I got it. It hurt to lose something you’d built up.

“You cut yourself off earlier,” I said. “You were gonna say something about your brother-in-law—about your business. Then you said it didn’t matter, but I’m guessing it does.”

His face was blank as he poured some sauce over his wings too. “He fucked us over.”

I had a feeling.

He blew out a breath. “Long story short, I had to pick up the pieces of fucking nothing, and he went to prison for money laundering and embezzlement.”

Jesus fuck.

I shook my head and licked sauce from the corner of my mouth. “World’s full of fucking scum, man. That sucks.”

He hummed around a mouthful of food. “There are some bright spots, though.”

The way he eyed me there for a sec made me so certain he was implying that I was a bright spot, and I had zero tact. I gobbled that shit up with a sauce-drenched grin and kicked at his stool.

“Get outta here, you sweet dingbat. You’re talking about me.”

He laughed and threw a napkin at my face. “I was clearly referring to my son.”

Fuck that! He was lying. I was a bright spot.

* * *

After we’d eaten, I couldn’t postpone cleanup any longer. Luckily, my second attempt at approaching the topic of Ben possibly working here one day was more successful. As we worked on clearing the floor of all the chairs, I told him about my hope to find an Adam 2.0 in the near future.

“I held out hope that they’d eventually settle here in the city, but I’ve lost them to California,” I said.

“Fucking California,” Ben muttered.

A man after my own heart.

But that wasn’t the point. “Anyway…I hope this spring, I’ll be able to hire someone full time.”

“What about Jamaal?”

What about you, you slow fuck?

“He’d be great at it,” I replied honestly. “But he’s been talking about going back to school.” I went over to the last table and flipped those chairs too. “That’s the problem with the younger staff. Jamaal’s an exception—he’s my age. But usually, it’s the college students. They don’t stick around for long. Or they only wanna pick up shifts on breaks and whatnot. Which I get. I get it. I just need more stability for the staff that has responsibilities that go beyond showing up and taking orders.”

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