Page 28 of Employing Patience

My phone lights up with a text from one of the group chats, and without fail, it brings a smile to my face. I have an amazing network of men at my beck and call, and I know how lucky I am to have them, which is why I make sure I’m available when they need me.

Even if it’s only to give them shit.

Which I do.

A lot.

And with one group of men all successfully loved up, I move my attention to another of my chats. Keller, Mack, and Carlton. While I love the shit out of Orson, Payne, and Griff, they’ve happily caught “couple’s disease.” The infectious mindset that all anyone needs is the right cock to be happy. I love that they’ve found that and that it makes them happy, but I’ve jumped on a lot of dicks in my day, and that’s not the way to my inner goddess of contentment.

So instead, I’ll turn to the single men.

Me: Who’s coming out this weekend? We’ve got slutting it up to do!

Mack: Me! I’ll be there!

Me: Now that’s the level of enthusiasm I expect at the prospect of a blow job by yours truly.

Keller: Not sure I want to know.

Carlton: What’s to know? Art’s obviously been offering out blow jobs again.

Keller: Well, in that case, I’ll take one!

Carlton: Ooh, me too!

Me: Hey, hey, just how easy do you think I am?

Mack: It feels mean to be honest here.

Keller: Why? Art’s proud that he’s the cheapest rich guy in Massachusetts.

Me: It’ll be the world next, baby!

Carlton: One cock at a time.

And like that, my mood is one hundred times better. Mysteries about Joey Manning are temporary, like every other pretty face in my life. These guys are the real deal. Now, if only I could find a way to make the DMC my entire life and not worry about anything else.

Well, anything other than the Killer Brew. I like being rich. I like that everyone knows me. I like that in this tiny slice of town, I’m able to make a difference and feel like I’m somewhere I belong.

There’s commotion on one of the cameras, and I watch as Joey scrambles around, picking up shards of the glass he’s dropped. This new schedule can’t come into effect soon enough.

My body sags as I force myself to my feet, preparing to do something I really, really don’t want to do.

If he’s desperate enough to be working two jobs, he can’t afford to go home early, but as much as I feel for him, I have other employees to think about—not to mention his fucking health.

Safety is number one for me though, and if he’s at the point of breaking glasses, unfortunately, he’s gotta go. I can’t risk someone being hurt because of my negligence.

As much as I’m sure Joey will flirt and blow it off like it’s nothing, there’s a seed of regret burrowed deep inside me that won’t shift. I’m at the top of the stairs before I pause, an idea sinking in. I cast my eyes back to the small serving area up here, then change direction.

It takes ten minutes, but I mess up the area enough that it should be an easy hour of work for him, and then I jog down the stairs and into the bar.

“Joey?”

He curses under his breath, dumps what he’s holding into the trash, and approaches. “Look, I’m sorry, it just—”

“Why didn’t you clean up last night?”

That question throws him. “What?”

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