Page 3 of Employing Patience

The confidence is a complete fucking turn-on.

For the first time since taking over the Killer Brew, I hope an employee doesn’t last long.

Because as I stand from my desk chair and make my way through the mezzanine level and down the stairs, I already know that Joey is going to test me.

My patience, my sanity, my restraint.

I’m a dead man.

And yet, I reach the bar and set my card down in front of him anyway.

“Send through your details. You start Monday.”

TEN MONTHS AGO

JOEY

“I’m telling you, it was Nevele Ounces.”

I glance down the bar toward where a regular of ours, Tommy, is talking to the man beside him. Nevele Ounces is a name I’ve heard a few times now, but I have no fucking clue who it is.

“The dentist called and said it was all paid for. I just had to take Kristy in.”

“That’s unreal.”

“I know. She really needed braces, but it wasn’t covered by insurance, and I had no clue how we were going to pay for them …”

Good for Tommy. And his daughter, I guess.

My attention is pulled away at a thud, and I sigh as I watch Marissa stumble into a bar table, bumping it so hard a customer’s beer almost upends. She’s in huge heels and has had way too much to drink, judging by the way she’s swaying.

You’d think she’d be over this by now. Hanging out here every weekend and getting so drunk she can barely walk. I told Duncan to keep an eye on her to make sure she’s not swiping drinks, but he’s had a busy night as it is between the fight that broke out and those underaged guys who kept trying to sneak in.

“Court,” I call to the other bartender.

As soon as I have her attention, I nod Marissa’s way.

“Jesus,” Court mutters. “If she doesn’t pull her shit together soon, Art’s going to ban her.”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t already.”

“He acts tough, but he’s a total softie underneath.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve hardly seen him since I started here.”

She eyes me funny. “He’s literally always here. Always. I usually see him when I open the bar because it’s quieter, but I’ll bet you tonight’s tips that he’s upstairs in his office.”

I pull my eyes from Marissa long enough to send Courtney a skeptical look. “Right now?”

“Yep.”

“There’s no way. He’ll be out hooking up, for sure.” Because while I might not have seen much of Art de Almeida, I’ve seen way too much of his hookups. Men who pass through the bar and disappear upstairs for a few hours before returning disheveled and looking high as a kite. I swear guys hang around here just hoping to get on Art’s radar.

Which is fucking weird. But the more people talk about him and the longer I go without actually seeing him has blown him up into mythical status in my mind. It’s weird. The way I’m craving to catch a glimpse of my boss.

A loud shout jerks my attention back to Marissa. “I’m going to put her in a cab.”

“Sure. I’ll get Mitch to cover you.”

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