Page 16 of The Sidekick

I can tell that an effort has been made to clean. All of the tables are separated into usable and trashed piles, along with the chairs, and there’s the awful stench of bleach. My feet stick to the floor as I stare at where Joe died and take a ragged breath.

I can’t jerk my gaze away from the puddle of liquid there, imagining it’s blood, which is dumb. I can smell the bleach. No way did they clean up all the tables and didn’t hit the floor with cleaner. I just need to snap out of it is all.

“Hey.”

His hands drop to my shoulders again, turning me towards him as he stoops to look into my eyes. “You weren’t ready. Do you need to go home, babygirl? We can get the place fixed up on our own.”

I shake my head and blink.

“I can’t do that. You called me for help,” the protest is weak at best.

“You can,” he assures me with a grim tone. “I should never have asked this of you.”

My heart sinks at the thought that he’s disappointed in me. Why does his dismissal hurt so much more than anyone else’s?

“If I can’t do this, how will I work here?”

The words are spoken without thought, and my eyes widen at the realization. What if I can’t ever walk through these doors without seeing Joe’s body on the floor? What then? I’ve been at this job for a little over two years now. I’m comfortable and settled. Or I was.

“You didn’t unblock my number,” Max says from behind me, jerking me back to the present.

“Not now,” Trevor glares over my head at the busboy.

“I thought it was funny,” I try to apologize, but the words get stuck in my throat as the lights glimmer over the puddle.

“Well, laugh it up,” Max grips my bicep and swings me around to face him. “Give me your phone.”

I automatically follow the demand and reach into my purse to hand it to him limply. I watch as he unblocks his number, edits the contact to include his name, and saves it.

“You’re stuck with us.” He jams it back in my purse and leans into my face. “Deal with it.”

I manage a nod as my eyes drift back to the puddle.

“Max,” Trevor’s voice takes on that strange dark tone.

Max ignores it and slings an arm over my shoulders, “Let’s get to it. I know you aren’t lazy like a lot of those bitches.”

“Max!” I snap out of it at the shock of his words and smack his stomach in censure. “You can’t just call people names because you’re feeling bad. You need to vent more and relieve some of that pressure in a positive way.”

“You should vent more. Come on, give us a cuss word. You’ll understand the positivity of it if you try. You can do it,” he coaxes, grinning at me while I glare. He’s angling his body as we walk to keep me from seeing the puddle, and I can’t say a single mean thing to him at the moment.

I settle on a disgruntled, “Ladies don’t curse.”

Trevor huffs a laugh with a muttered, “Shoulda’ known.”

“No? Maybe some coffee will pep you up, then,” Max taunts me further and drags me towards the back, where the stairs lead to the second floor.

“I can’t go up there,” I dig my heels in, determined now. He’s being pushy, and I’ve recently decided this behavior is unacceptable. Even if it starts as sweet and sheltering, it doesn’t necessarily end that way.

“Why not?” Trevor asks, sounding bewildered.

“Is it haunted?” Max whispers into my ear, and I give him my sternest glare. It’s my best imitation of my mom when I did something that made her mad. It has zero effect on him. Maybe I’m not doing it right. It does feel unnatural on my face.

“Employees aren’t allowed up there,” I answer him in a huff. “There’s a perfectly good coffee pot down here.”

“They aren’t?” He looks at Trevor with mockingly wide, shocked eyes.

“Knock it off,” Trevor smirks. “We live up there, it’s fine.”

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