Page 11 of Chasing Sarah

“Follow me.” He grunts and makes his way through a door with a sign that saysEmployees Only.

“So… I don’t know your name. I should probably know that information before we get this little party started.”

He looks over his shoulder. “Call me Bones.”

“Ooo, Bones, huh? Are you some kind of biker or part of a gang? Oh! Are you in the mafia?!” my voice rises several octaves.

He lets out an annoyed sigh before stopping and turning to face me. “Don’t worry about why my name is Bones. You’re just here to clean.”

“Oh, come on. Give mesomething.”

He ignores me as he pulls the cleaning supplies from the shelf and sets them on the table in the center of the room.

“Do you not have bleach?” I ask before I can filter the thought.

He pauses and scowls at me.

“Hey, I’m trying to clean up the place. Bleach is needed.” I shrug and stare innocently at him.

“Jesus fuck,” he mutters and I smirk.

“It’s under the sink.” He motions behind me.

Spinning, I open the lower cabinet and pull out the gallon of bleach.

“Perfect,” I say, nodding once.

Definitely going to need more, I think to myself.

He goes through the motions of telling me what he wants me to do around the building before leaving me to my own devices.

A few hours and a gallon of bleach later, I’ve cleaned the place as best as humanly possible. Which was still not enough to make this place less gross.

Taking the cleaning supplies, I return them to the back room and into the cabinets. Once finished, I make my way to the front.

“Done!” I cheer when I see Bones setting glasses into the shelves above the bar.

Pausing, he peers over his shoulder. “Saw that,” he answers.

“So, do I get to keep coming back?” I ask, swinging my arms back and forth.

He spins and sets his palms onto the bar top and analyzes the bar. The smell of stale beer has been replaced with bleach, sticky floors have been mopped until my arms hurt, and the tables squeaky clean. I’m very proud of what I’ve done with the place.

The corner of his lip twitches before it drops, and he turns his gaze to me. “Yeah. I’ll get the paperwork ready, and you can fill it out tomorrow.”

“Yes!” I pump my fist and round the bar.

Bones stiffens when I wrap my arms around his middle and squeeze him. “Thank you!”

He clears his throat and then lightly pats my back before pressing my shoulders, forcing me to let go.

“Get out of here.” He gestures to the door. “I’ve gotta get the place ready for opening.”

I smile up at him and head out with hopefulness growing in my heart.

Paige and I will be okay.

“Let’s go!” Colson – my closest brother in age – cheers as we watch Tommy race around the track in the beat-up go kart, we built in the backyard.

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