Page 22 of Second Down Fake

I shouldn’t see Diego again, even if he called.

But I kind of hoped he’d call.

EIGHT

CASSANDRA

I sailed through two shifts at the bar, glad to finish training.

While Becca had already paid for the rent, I had to pay for utilities and food and had already resorted to tapping my savings.

And I couldn’t rely on my savings for long. I didn’t have nearly enough for that. But just a shift or two bartending each week should cover my food and water. Throw in a ghost or city walking tour and I might even do some sightseeing.

The drink menu at the Crown & Copper might be the death of me, though. The front side of the drink menu had been easy enough to learn; standard drinks with an upscale twist. An old-fashioned with a top shelf bourbon and a crystallized orange twist, a Tom Collins with an earl gray simple syrup, and a Moscow mule with Birchwood beer. When I’d visited the bar last time, though, I hadn’t turned it over.

“What kind of masochist would make up this menu?” I muttered at the list of adjectives written on the back of the menu.

“Um...” my manager interrupted my grumble. “That’d be me.”

I grinned at Kendall. She was only three years older than me but had worked her way up to management and even after just two days of training, I could see why. She was the type of person who could tell someone to fuck off with a smile and the person would walk away thinking, “Yeah, she’s right. I should fuck off.”

“What if someone orders a ‘spicy and luxurious?’ What am I supposed to do with that?”

Kendall shrugged. “You make them a drink with a top shelf liquor and the jalapeño simple syrup.”

“You make it sound so easy,” I muttered, shaking my head. “I’m going to get slammed one night and someone is going to ask for something lame, like ‘fruity’ and ‘oaky’ and I’m going to have a breakdown.”

“It’s fun,” Kendall said with a smile. “You get to make your own drinks. Isn’t that better than just repeating the same stuff all night?”

“I like repeating things over and over.”

“Then you should go find yourself a mill job,” Kendall said in a “fuck you,” voice and a smile.

“I don’t think the tips are as good on an assembly line.”

“Well, in the interest of getting you good tips, let me give you one. Wait until an hour before closing and convince your customers to order off the back menu. At that time of night, they’re just tipsy enough to tell you if it sucks and still tip well.”

“So, you want me to sling subpar drinks on people who are already drunk?”

“You got it. It’s the least I can do for one of Lucas’s friends.” The breezy words held a question. One I definitely would have asked had a new bartender been hoisted on my job by the owner. But no one had come out and asked outright.

“Not Lucas’s,” I admitted. “One of his teammates. I didn’t know he’d call in a favor, but he heard I was looking for work.”

“So, how did you meet Diego—” She pressed her palm to her mouth with a gasp.

“Oh, so you knew which player?”

Her cheeks flushed. “I got curious. Lucas is pretty…hands off.”

“Really? I figured the players would be in here all the time, considering a player owns the place.”

Kendall laughed. “There aren’t enough players to hang out at all of Lucas’s businesses. I don’t know if he’s some burgeoning mogul or just in love with a varied portfolio, but he owns a dozen places around town. And real estate. It’s insane. I don’t see how he has the time or the energy.”

“But if Lucas didn’t tell you, how did you find out I knew Diego?”

She pulled her phone from her back pocket, glancing around the bar before showing me the screen.

Well, I had to give it to the damn kids. They worked fast.

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