Page 25 of Bidding War

“Hell no!”

He laughs. “That’s … adamant.”

“Sorry—they’re great for anyone who wants them. But my life is way too turbulent to have to think about kids right now.”

“Turbulent?” He returns to rolling silverware while we chat.

I sigh. “Don’t let me dump on you, Kelsey. You’re?—"

“A bartender. Comes with the territory when it’s early like this. What’s going on, June?”

I give up. “I got laid off because I pissed off the wrong people, and now I’m getting blackballed out of my industry. It’s not great.”

He cringes. “That’s terrible. I can make some calls?—"

“No, no, no. Thanks, though.” O’Mulligan’s has been a neighborhood fixture for over forty years, so he has the pull to do something like that. But it’s nothing like the pull Elliot West has, and I’d hate for him to try and shutter O’Mulligan’s just because Kelsey tried to help me out. “I came in here to see how things were going and check in on you. Not for a favor.”

He smiles. “If you ever change your mind, let me know. As far as me? I’m great.” But then his smile falters. I wouldn’t have picked up on it if I hadn’t worked next to the man for years.

“What’s up, Kelsey? I don’t want to hear great out of you again until you mean it.”

He laughs a little too sharply and shakes his head. “You know how it is, June. When you hire kids, they move on. They graduate, or they move, or whatever. It’s hard to keep good staff. I like hiring young people because they have the energy for the job, but they don’t stick around. Just had a bartender quit on me last night because she’s relocating to Los Angeles.” When he says the city’s name, he makes the same face most Bostonians make when they mention it. A grimace twisted by confusion as if asking why anyone would move someplace hot and sunny. “Miss having you here. You were one of the longest-lasting bartenders I had.”

I chuckle at that. “I’m stubborn. Remember when I was working doubles during finals week?”

“Was that the time you poured a whole pitcher of beer on a guy for grabbing your butt?”

I laugh. “No, that was March Madness. During my doubles and finals week, a guy kept dropping his napkin whenever I’d walk by so I’d pick it up and he could look down my shirt. So, I went to the bathroom and wrote, ‘Fuck you’ in black eyeliner over my boobs right where he’d see it when I bent over next, and?—"

“Right! I had Bruno drag him out. But I remember there was more to it than that.”

“He waited until Bruno went on break and snuck back in when we were busy to come at me, but two of my usual guests saw him coming and tackled him. He got arrested.”

“Oh yeah,” he says with a nod. “Forgot all about that guy.”

“Still the same rowdy crowd during hockey season?”

He chuckles. “Yep. It’s been busy lately. Still get the college kids who can’t handle their liquor and the business people who overtip to show off. You’re welcome to take a shift?—"

I laugh and sarcastically tell him, “Sure, sounds like a plan.” But then it feels less sarcastic. I could use a job. I loved it here. And I don’t want to run through my savings as fast as I have been. Plus, I’m going stir-crazy.

“Ah, well. Thought I’d ask?—"

“I’ll do it.”

His crystalline blue eyes light up. “Wait, are you fucking with me?”

“I’m serious, actually. Not like I’m doing anything else. Might as well make some money.”

“You’re so hired!”

I laugh. “You’re serious?”

“Wear something black and be here by three.”

Grinning ear to ear, I nod. “You’re on.”

14

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