Page 42 of Framed

“She didn’t make it past the first punch. Ran off to the lady’s room after she saw Witcher draw blood, and I haven’t seen her since. I have someone coming in this afternoon to interview at five.” To the girl’s credit, most people whoenjoyedfights couldn’t stomach sitting through Witcher’s matches, let alone someone who probably didn’t have the stomach for anything past her morning mimosa.

“You think this one is gonna last?”

“I think so, but you should probably take the interview, and give her arealisticoverview of what to expect here. The full scope of what’s anticipated if they work here. That way if she wants to walk, she can.”

I could read between the lines of what she was attempting to say. She wanted me to warn them about the off-books underground fights that occurred here. Probably didn’t want another waitress running off the job.

Still, I frowned. I had time, since the fight didn’t start until eight, but Ethel usually handled the interviews. By usually, I mean she strictly forbade me from hiring any bar staff. She said I was too “broody” and an “HR nightmare waiting to happen,” so I wasn’t sure why she would suddenly ask for my help.

“You want me to interview them?” I asked.

“That’s what I said.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do I need to say it slower for you?”

“No. I’m just a little confused since you made me swear not to interview anyone else after the last girl ran out of the interview with me crying.”

“Well, you told the poor thing that she’ll be required to serve patrons while their guts were spilling on the ground.”

“She would,” I said, and my brain throbbed even more from the mental gymnastics it took to even keep up with Ethel at times. Why were women so difficult sometimes?Just say what you mean.

“That’s not something you tell someone in an interview you dipshit.” Yep, that was Ethel. Sharp-tongued and quick-witted. There was no one else better suited to running the bar as efficiently as she could. She also didn’t take anyone’s shit, mine included, so I wasn’t surprised by her words. She was the only person I’d allow to speak to me like that. Not like I had much of a choice.

“So you don’t want me to give them a realistic scope?”

“For fucks sake,” she responded, exasperated, as she threw the towel on top of the counter and speared her annoyed glare at me. Her hands were tightly gripping the bar top and she leaned over the spot she just cleaned. “I said give her a realistic overview not scare her off crying. Bloody fucking Mary.”

“That is realistic. Whoever works up here will have to serve patrons underground after they get the hang of how things work here. It isn’t rainbow and sunshine down there, Ethel, you know that.” It’s bloody, gruesome, and not for the fainthearted which was why I had new bar staff just about every week. No one had lasted longer than that since I opened the underground fight club at the beginning of the year.

“All I’m asking is for you to be sensible. Not everyone is as hard and guarded as you, Xavier. Just get a feel for the girl and if you think she won’t last, I’ll start looking around again.” She resumed her wiping. I was positive the spot was clean a while ago, but Ethel often cleaned when she was stressed. “But I think she’s your girl.”

That was high praise coming from Ethel. She called the bluff on the last three hostessesandbartenders. It was me who was hopeful they would last, but as always, Ethel was a better judge of character for this kind of thing. It was also whyshehandled the interviews.

Not wanting to give myself a bigger headache than I already had, I said, "Alright, I’ll do the interview.” Then I rested my head in my hands. I kept my gaze on the bar top, trying to will away my throbbing headache by sheer willpower alone. I needed to get this shit together before the fight.

A small bottle slid into my cocooned hands and it took me a minute to realize it was Advil. “Don’t scare this one off.”

I looked up to find Ethel with a glass of water extended out to me and I took it. “I’ll try.”

chapter nineteen

Scarlett

The week came and went in a blur. No matter how I tried, no matter how much I tried to distract myself, my mind drifted back to the note. I shouldn’t but I couldn’t help it. It was like my life was a bad horror movie, one where the audience was currently yelling at me not to go investigate the note. To tell someone, anyone, about it so I didn’t have to go through this alone.

But I did go alone, which caused my anxiety levels to creep to nearly unbearable heights.Why the hell now? And what the hell is at City Hall at four a.m.?

I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t considered finding Xavier and telling him how I really found his sister that night. About the notes I got during sophomore year. About the secrets I knew. I’d even thought about having him call Briggs but every time I got the courage, I decided against it.

I couldn’t tell them. They couldn’t help me.

No one could.Bet the audience would’ve loved that.

“Take a seat anywhere; I’ll be with you in a second.” The black-haired bartender didn’t look up from her cleaning. It was packed. The club was loud, in full swing as cheers and music vibrated the walls.

“I’m actually here for an interview. I spoke to an Ethel earlier,” I yelled over the music as I took a seat in the last vacant chair. When I overheard one of the girls in my LSAT prep class speaking about a bar in Little Vegas that was hiring, I was slightly confused.

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