Page 12 of Last Call at the Local

“Like the fact that I have absolutely zero experience entertainment coordinating. Is that a thing? See? I don’t even know if that’s a thing.”

I sigh. She’s really making this more complicated than it has to be. “Forget the logistics for a moment. Does it sound like a job you’d enjoy?”

“I mean, yeah. It sounds better than whatever job I’ll be stuck doing back home, but I don’t think I’m qualified. I’m just a busker. I don’t know a thing about business.”

“You don’t have to. I’m the business. You’re the party.”

She laughs, and that gives me hope that I can actually pull this off, so I keep talking. “You’ve been to loads of pubs, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“So you’ve got plenty of experience with pubs. You know what’s out there. And you’re a musician, one who has played all over, so you know how to entertain people.”

“I guess, but I don’t know how to run a pub quiz.”

“You can google it.”

She laughs. “This seems a very haphazard way of hiring someone.”

When I lean toward her, I lower my voice so that no one else can hear me. “Look, I’ve been interviewing people for this job all day. Sure, they came up with a few ideas, but not a single one had vision. No one but you. You painted a picture. One I happen to like. You told me how this place couldfeel.This pub has been in my family for four generations, and you know what I feel when I come in here?” She shakes her head. “Nothing. Well, a little disdain, to tell you the truth. But I’ve never thought about what Iwantto feel. Or what I want other people to feel.” I pat the bar with a hand. “An old friend... that’s exactly what I want this place to feel like. And I like what you said about pub quiz nights and board games and all that. So sure, this is a bit sudden, but that doesn’t mean it’s haphazard.”

Raine doesn’t say anything at first. She shifts in her seat, freeing the leg she has tucked beneath her to pull it against her chest and rest her chin against her knee. She starts swaying back and forthagain, eyes on the pint glass in front of her. The tambourine in her pocket jingles softly, and for a moment, I forget what we’re talking about.

“They’re just ideas,” she finally says. “You can have them free of charge. You don’t want my help. I’m a mess. Like, in every way.”

A mess in every way.Someone must have made her see herself that way, and whoever it is, I hate them. “Then you’re perfect for the job. I need someone who isn’t afraid of a little mess.”Or a lot.

“This is... very generous of you, and it sounds wonderful, but...” She looks up at me again. “You don’t even know me.”

“Well, Raine, you seem like an easy person to know.”

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? She doesn’t feel like a stranger at all. It’s as if all of her is right there on the surface. Like if you wanted to know something about her, all you’d have to do is ask.

Or maybe I’m losing it. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve wondered. Maybe I’m letting a pretty face and a little flirting cloud my judgment. To my credit, I have flirted with plenty of pretty faces, and this is the first time I’ve offered one a job. This is purely a business decision.

I think.

I lean away from her. “Fine, let’s say that, hypothetically, you are in no way qualified for this job.”

“It’s... not hypothetical,” she says.

“You said it sounds like a great job. Did you mean that?”

“Yes, but like I said, I’m not—” I arch a brow, and she lets out an exasperated sigh. “Okay, fine. Go on.”

“Here are the facts: You don’t want to go home. In order to avoid doing that, you need an income. But in order to make an income, you need your instruments back. The only way that’s happening is if they turn up or you replace them. But you don’t have time to wait for them to show up, and you don’t have a way of making money to replace them. I’m offering you a solution, one that keeps all youroptions open. You work for the pub, help us implement some of your ideas, and hopefully your instruments turn up, and you leave with some extra money. But if your instruments don’t turn up, you can replace them with the money you make here. It won’t be long-term. You can help us get everything up and running while you get back on your feet.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but I continue before she can. “Twelve weeks,” I say. “Just give me twelve weeks. From now until April. That should be enough time to replace your guitar and amp and all that, yeah?”

“Probably. But... don’t take this as me not wanting the job, but there’s got to be someone better qualified than me.”

Jesus, this girl is definitely a musician. She sounds like a broken record. “If you don’t want the job because you’re not interested in it, that’s fine. But if doubting yourself is the only thing holding you back, then take the job. Everything else we can figure out together.”

She tugs the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands. “Let’s say I do want the job. I don’t see how I could take it. I don’t even have a place to stay in Cobhtonight, let alone until April.”

Logistics.Fortunately, I know practically everyone in Cobh. “Give me until noon tomorrow to find you a place for the next few months.” No ideahowI’ll manage that, but I’m already turning over options in my mind. “As for tonight, I know just the place.”

Four

---