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I had to look away because this dude was pathetic. I couldn’t watch it without stepping in, which I knew wouldn’t go over well. So, I let Ruby do her thing and put him in his place.
“You find one. You beg for it, and you show up and prove that you’re worth keeping around.”
“But if I can’t get you to hire me, why would anyone else hire me?”
“For fuck’s sake,” I groaned, because I couldn’t take it any longer. “Stop whining. Everyone works. Everyone has to pay their bills. You aren’t the only one. Your sister works her ass off, and she’s here helping her father because she’s a good fucking person. And you’re taking advantage of her. You need to figure your shit out.”
His eyes widened, and he nodded. Damn. That was easier than I’d expected it to be.
“I don’t know where to start.”
I turned in my chair and faced him. “Start by being a fucking man. Tell your sister that you’re sorry for calling her a bitch when she’s done nothing but help you. Tell her that you’re sorry for taking her money all these years and that you’ll stop doing it. Right fucking now. Let’s see if you can do that first, and then maybe,maybe,I’ll fucking help you.”
He blinked a few times before turning to look at Ruby, who was staring at me with her mouth hanging open.
“I’m sorry, sis. I shouldn’t have called you a bitch. You know I love you, right?” he asked, and then glanced at me.
“And…” I said, rolling my eyes.
“I’m sorry for taking your money and for being a pain in the ass all the time.”
I reached for the pen sitting on the bar near Ruby, and I wrote my number on a cocktail napkin and raised an eyebrow. “Do you have five bucks on you?”
“Yeah.” He reached into his wallet and counted out five singles.
“Pay her for the beer.”
His eyes widened, but he dropped the cash onto the bar.
I handed him the napkin with my phone number. “If you call her for one more thing, and I’m talking anything—like a free beer or rent money or even to fucking complain about your bullshit—the offer is off the table. This is my number. I won’t be as nice as Oscar. You get one fucking chance with me, and I will have zero problem firing you. Call me, and we’ll figure something out.”
He glanced at his beer and then back at me. “Can I finish my drink, or…”
I shook my head with irritation because what the fuck was I even doing helping this prick out?
But I wasn’t doing it for him.
I was doing it for her.
I didn’t know why, but I knew that I wanted to help her.
“You bought it. Why do I care if you drink it?”
He nodded and slammed the rest of it down before wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand and slipping off the barstool. “Thank you. I’ll call you as soon as I get home. But I’m not a lawyer, so I’m not sure what work you’ve got for me.”
No shit, Sherlock.
“Don’t worry about it. If you’re willing to work, I’ll help you out. But I told you before, you get one chance with me.”
“All right. Bye, Rubes.” He held up his hand, and she had a forced smile on her face when she said goodbye as he walked out the door.
When I turned my attention back to her, she had her arms folded over her chest, watching me. “What was that for?”
“That was for you, Queenie.” I wiped off my hands and set my napkin on my plate before dropping a twenty-dollar bill on the bar and pushing to my feet.
“What are you going to have him do?” she asked, anger radiating from her hot little body.
“I don’t know yet. Let’s see if he even calls first. If he’s willing to work, I’ll find him something. It’s up to him.”
