Page 5 of The Family Pet

“The Godfreys.”

He laughed and nodded. “Yeah, they’re nasty every time they come in here. I’ve heard people complain about them. They think they’re better than everyone else and half the time they don’t tip, but they leave a reason why they didn’t. The owner considered telling them they weren’t welcome but figured it wouldn’t be worth starting bullshit.” He gave me a smile that was both kind and sweet, and it made me feel even worse because I was one of the people he was talking about.

My dad and Uncle Bowie were a lot alike. We’d never come here to the restaurant as a family, but I wouldn’t doubt Dad had been here on his own or with Mom.

Jeremy rested his hand on my shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze. “Why don’t you come out with me later? A few of us are going to hit the Whiskey Barrel. They’re having a special tonight. New York Sours. They’re really good.” He beamed at me. Fuck. I didn’t deserve how he’d been going out of his way to be nice.

“I better not make plans if these two won’t even tip.” I grinned at him.

He groaned, but ended up laughing, and patted my shoulder again as he wandered back toward the industrial dishwasher. “Think about it. If you only get the New York Sours, you won’t be out much cash. You can be drunk on twenty bucks.”

I steeled myself and took the tablet out of my apron, then forced one foot in front of the other all the way to the table of doom so I could take Ridge’s and Uncle Bowie’s orders. Oddly enough, they more or less ignored me, except to tell me they wanted steaks and how to cook them. I began to relax as I went about taking care of my other tables. I brought out their steaks and sides, and they didn’t say a word, just started eating. I crept away from them while holding my breath.

It grew late. A couple of tables finished up with zero complaints. I was almost feeling normal as I went back to do a final check on Uncle Bowie’s table.

Maybe they’d just wanted to rattle my cage and let me know that they knew I was still in town?

I handed Uncle Bowie the bill because Ridge had never paid for anything his whole life. My heart dropped to my toes when he snatched the receipt out of the leather holder, wrinkled it into a ball, and tossed it at my face. I flinched, even though the tiny wad of paper wasn’t anything that could really hurt me.

Uncle Bowie stood and buttoned his suit jacket. He shook his head at me and glared down into my face. “Oh, no. We’re not paying. You owe me, personally, about eight hundred thousand dollars. That is only me. I have friends who were in deeper with your parents. Tell me, what made them cut and run on their bad investments?”

My brain went numb and my mouth ran on autopilot. “The Divines getting caught by Alton Bouchard spooked them.”

Uncle Bowie’s face ran red and his body tensed until he quivered.

Ridge snorted. “Oh shit. I wondered.” His eyebrows shot up. “That is a damned good reason. I heard about some of that shit from Christian.”

Uncle Bowie tilted his head back. “Not only will I not pay that bill, I want a check for the rest by tomorrow.”

My breath caught. Ah, here was the bullshit. Since it was out in the open now, a bizarre calm settled over me. “What do you mean? I don’t have any money. Not really. Just enough to get by. And not like, getting by for a Godfrey. Getting by for anyone.” I began to panic and shot a look at the hostess’s station, but what was I going to do? I didn’t want Uncle Bowie to tell them my name wasn’t Nathan Conway. As far as I knew, the real Nathan had died in a skiing accident two years ago, and I didn’t have enough money to get another fake identity.

Uncle Bowie stared at me. “You can’t expect me to believe that.”

Anger finally got the best of me, and even though I felt awful that my parents had fucked over a lot of people, I wanted to punch him. “Would I be working here if I didn’t need to do it?”

Uncle Bowie’s gaze dropped to the floor and his brow furrowed. He seemed less hostile than he had a second ago, but not by much.

“So, do you actually need this job?” Ridge asked, and I shivered at the smug smile that turned up the corners of his mouth. He stared around, as if maybe he was looking for someone to talk to who could fire me, and I wanted to crawl under the nearest table and hide.

Sucking in a deep breath, I focused on Uncle Bowie because Ridge and I had always messed with each other. He hated me, and I couldn’t stand the way he acted. I touched Uncle Bowie’s hand, which had clenched into a fist, and he snapped his attention to my face.

“I’m really sorry about what my parents did. They screwed me over, too.”

His long, dark lashes fluttered with his eye roll. “How? Because you need to work now?”

Part of me wanted to snap yes. I’d certainly never envisioned this life, though it bothered me less than I would’ve guessed a year ago.

He pulled out his wallet and yanked free a business card, which he handed to me with a flourish. “Be at my office tomorrow at six in the evening. Don’t come any earlier. I don’t want any of my clients to see you.”

“I work at that time,” I said blankly.

He stared right into my soul, hazel eyes cutting me to the quick. “Either be there or I make sure this job is torpedoed. Hell, maybe I’ll try to get you arrested like your parents still might be.” He turned to head toward the front door with Ridge at his side.

“I wasn’t part of it. I didn’t do anything.” Not thinking, I snagged Uncle Bowie’s wrist. He turned and shoved my chest hard, and I stumbled backward. “You have to pay. I don’t have the money to cover it,” I hissed. Alarmed, I glanced toward the hostess’s station again, but Ashleigh wasn’t there.

Ridge looked confused, as if the idea of not having the money to pay for dinner was so foreign he couldn’t fathom it. “You’re serious?”

I nodded and wished I could drop through the floor to the center of the earth as a horrible chuckle escaped him.