Page 21 of Obsession

He picks up his tie and wraps it around his collar. His calm behavior settles me and I move towards my bag and quietly tuck in the file and zip it up as if it’s a secret government file that I’ve hidden from an enemy faction.

“Sorry about that,” I say, realizing that my overreaction must have made me just look like some unstable, crazy person. It’s not a good look for someone who’s just been made part-time manager of a club filled with unsavory characters most of the time.

He glances over his shoulder at me, and our eyes lock. “You don’t need to apologize, Miss Taylor.”

I try to ignore the flip my stomach makes when he drawls out my name like that. God, I really don’t know what to make of this man. My opinion of him keeps changing.

“Take a look at these.” He gestures towards a stack of files.

I walk over to his desk and see that it’s a bunch of resumes.

“These are for the bartender positions?”

“Yes.”

“Who prints out resumes anymore? We could have done this all electronically,” I say, blurting out what is quite obvious to me but may not be to someone at least ten years my senior.

“You’re going to interview all of them today,” he orders without acknowledging my rhetorical question. “That’s why I told you to come in early. Select one on the spot and begin training them. You will still be working the bar for a week or so until they get the hang of it, but you’ll be handing over a bulk of the work to this new person.”

I hesitate, and when I look him square in the eyes, I suddenly remember what his chest felt like under my hands. It takes an enormous amount of struggle to keep my voice steady.

“I feel like I need to ask this. I don’t understand your thinking. Why do you want me to take on the manager's position? I don’t have this kind of experience, and Steve is actually kind of good at it,” I lie.

I’m having second thoughts about accepting this position if I have to interact with Mr. Middleton like this constantly. When I was just a bartender, I never met the man. Now, we’ve become way too familiar with each other in a short span of time.

The look he gives me chills me to the bones. It’s as if putting on the shirt changed his entire demeanor. He’s all business now.

“You should keep in mind, Miss Taylor, that I’m not accustomed to my employees questioning my decisions.”

I blink and stare at him in confusion. The man switches between moods like I do on day two of my period.

“Fine,” I say, refusing to be offended by his tone. “I’ll interview them.”

“As if there was any other appropriate response,” he mutters in a deep voice as I fling my bag on my shoulder and exit the office.

Diana is a sharp-eyed brunette with two years of bartending under her belt. She seems to be pretty friendly and knows enough about different drinks that I decide to go with her. I hate to admit this, but a part of my hiring decision is based on the fact that she’s pretty enough to get good tips from patrons but not quite pretty enough to cause drama like our previous server did. She should be a perfect fit for The Blue Whiskey.

My shift is quiet and as the hours tick by, I still don’t see Steve anywhere and I have to wonder where he’s gone. While Mr. Middleton did offer me his job, and I’m slowly accepting that I actually may have a knack for this, I have to wonder whether Steve was fired or ‘disposed of’. For a place like this, it’s a legitimate concern.

“You good?” I ask Diana, although I’m only asking out of courtesy. She definitely knows her way around a bar and is doing a good job so far. She’s not the type of employee I need to babysit whatsoever. “I need to check something in the back.”

“Yep, I can handle it.”

“Cool.”

I leave Diana to work the bar and go check the shift schedule. Maybe Mr. Middleton moved some things around on the calendar, and Steve wasn’t scheduled to work today.

“Heard you got promoted,” Billy says casually as he flips some burgers for the people seated in one of the back booths.

“Yeah, and?”

“About damn time.”

I have to grin at the club’s line cook as he stares at my ass. I think he actually means the compliment but ruins it with his gross ogling of my backside.

“How’s Brianna doing?” I ask, reminding him about his girlfriend. A girl I’ve met on numerous occasions.

“Hanging in there.” After plating the burgers, Billy pulls the bell for the servers to come to get the order. “She hates being pregnant. Let me know if I can get an extra shift next month, boss. I need the money. Diapers and shit.”

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