Page 16 of Fighting Jacob

I wipe away laughter-induced tears before angling to face him. "I watched it years ago but had a recent refresher when it was put on Netflix. It's hilarious—my favorite standup routine of all time. It's the realness behind it that makes it so funny."

"True." Jacob's nod says more than his words. Just like me, he's an everyday American. He wasn't raised with a silver spoon in his mouth and a trust fund worth millions. He's just an everyday guy. That makes me like him even more.

Disturbed by my inner monologue, I return my eyes and my torso front and center. Not long later, we pull into Mavs’ parking lot. Unlike last week, Jacob doesn’t attempt to open my door for me. He just lingers at the side, waiting for me to gather my things before shadowing me inside.

"Go show them who the Big Bad Wolf is." He nudges me toward the bar before heading to his friends, who are seated near the stage. Stupid butterflies are fluttering in my stomach, and my palms are slicked with sweat, but I have a big, beaming smile on my face.

Well, I did, until Maggie’s eyes arrow in on my denim shorts.

“I don’t own any full-length jeans.”

Maggie's brow cocks. "Uh-huh... and?”

“And... I'll buy a pair with my first paycheck?" It sucks admitting I don't have the money to buy a pair now, but since it's the truth, I run with it.

Maggie exhales a big breath like she heard my wordless confession. “Alright. Go through those doors.” She points to a set of double doors behind the bar. “There’s a pile of shirts on shelves as you enter. Find your size, get changed, then meet me back here.”

Happy to escape the tension in the air, I make a beeline for the door. After several yanks and a couple of pushes, I finally break through the heavily weighted door. For future reference, it's a push door.

My nose screws up at the moldy smell lingering in the air when I enter the dingy space. I locate the shirts right where Maggie said they'd be. The shelves are rusty but perfectly adequate to hold shirts. After snagging the smallest size I can find, I fling off my tank top to replace it with my very first uniform.

It’s halfway slipped over my head when a male voice breaks through the silence surrounding me. “Oh shit, sorry.”

After fixing my shirt, I pivot to face the voice. A man with a shiny head is sheltering his hands with his eyes. If that isn’t confirmation enough he wasn’t sneaking a peek at my boobs through their lace bra, his gaze is fixated on the wall on his right. He’s so uneager to look, my ego gets unexpectedly bitch-slapped.

“It’s safe now.”

He lowers his hands before running his eyes over my shirt. The snug fit showcases my puppies in a flattering light, adding to the sexiness of my tiny shorts.

“Hi, I’m Ollie.”

When he offers me his hand to shake, I take in his features more diligently. His face has a substantial set of wrinkles, and the few strands of hair left on his head are gray. If I had to guess his age, I'd say he's at least mid-sixties. His Maverick shirt is similar to mine; it just hugs his midsection instead of his chest.

“Lola. Tonight is my first shift.”

Ollie nods like my newness explains everything. “There are bathrooms over there.” He points to a door with “Restroom” written across the front.

“Thanks.” I roll my eyes. It took me five seconds to switch my shirt, so why go all the way to the bathroom to do it? “What do you do here?” He doesn't have the height or build of the bouncers I've seen, so I would guess he's the cook.

“I’m the owner.”

My mouth dries when my jaw gapes. I am usually much better with first impressions, especially when it's the opposite sex. Warily smiling, Ollie dips his chin in farewell before entering an office concealed by a shelf of shirts—the same shirts I stripped in front of. Goddammit!

After stashing my purse in an empty locker, I dart back out to the bar. The first person I spot when exiting is Jacob. His eyes bulge out of his head when they land on my tight red shirt. “Jesus, Lola. Are you trying to kill me?” When he adjusts his crotch, I flash him a flirty grin. “Cock tease.”

"Don't ever forget it." Loving the boost of confidence his appreciative glare has given me, I strut to Maggie, who's unstacking glasses from a dishwasher concealed by the wooden bar top. "How can I help?"

When she peers up from the dishwasher, disbelief masks her face. "You could go and get dressed?"

I air slap her while giggling. My laughter halts when her eyes narrow so much, they’re close to closing, but I’m saved by a deep voice on my right. “Be nice, Maggie.”

Noah gives me a sneaky wink, revealing he has my back, although I doubt even he could save me from Maggie’s death stare. She’s a lot sterner than I expected.

Hoping to prove I belong here, I serve Noah as I would any other customer. “What can I get you?”

His plump lips turn upwards. “A beer would be great.”

“Beer. Great. Coming right up.” After clapping my sweaty hands together, I scan my side of the wood and leather bar, seeking the coolers. There’s beer on tap, but since I have no clue how to pull a beer, Noah will have to drink from a bottle tonight.

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