CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE JESS #2
“Oh yeah?” Her sneer had faltered when I first started speaking, but it came back. She folded her arms over her chest. “What kind of conversation would that be?”
“You’ll find out. Now. What’s your problem with me?
” The level of hatred in her eyes was next level.
It was like I’d personally destroyed her childhood, or wait.
Maybe I had. “You know anyone in prison?” Better question, was I part of the team that put them in there or back in there? That would make more sense.
“No. Well, yes, but that’s not why I’m going to have your job tonight.”
“You want my job, ma’am?”
She flushed, some confusion chipping away at the loathing. “What? No! God. Who are you?”
“I believe that’s the question here. Who am I to you, and why do you have a problem with me.”
“Are you kidding me? You don’t know who I am?” She slapped a hand back down and leaned over, doing her best to intimidate me. She was tall enough—it might’ve worked on someone who hadn’t gotten cursed out by every which word, and that was just this afternoon.
“Ma’am. If you do not state your business for being here, you will need to leave.”
She barked out an ugly laugh, standing back again. Those arms crossed over her chest. “That’s hilarious, especially considering the fact that my brother owns this place.”
Wh—oh. Oh no.
Recognition hit me, and Trace’s earlier conversation filtered back to me.
He’d talked about his sister.
Shitty situation. Family.
“Who’s your brother?”
“Tristian West, but it doesn’t really matter because Ashton’s just as much of a brother figure to me too.
” She was loving telling me this, drawing it out with a smug smirk.
“Trust me, bitch. You’re going to regret stepping into this place.
I’ll have your job by the end of the night, and then I’m going to come after that whore of a mother too.
I’m going to make it my mission to put you and your slut of a mother out on the streets. ”
This was Trace’s sister. Who knew my mom somehow.
Well. If we were showing all of our cards, I reached up and drew the chain from around my neck until my badge came up.
I took it off and put it on the counter, ignoring the effect it had on the customers around us.
I cared only about her reaction, and the shock that was quickly veiled and shoved down was what I needed to see.
She had no clue who I actually was. She came in all emotion and no plan.
“Let’s see you try to make me homeless. And while you’re at it, why don’t you educate me on how you know my mother? Because that’s news to me.”
I glanced over her shoulder, seeing Ashton coming toward us. I couldn’t get a read on him, but as he passed Justin’s section, I saw Kelly giving me a discreet thumbs-up.
The woman-child drew back, giving me a more assessing look, but anything she said was cut off because Ashton was in my section. She turned to him. “Ash—what are you doing?!”
Her voice rose up in a screech as he took her arm, a hold just under her elbow, and he gave a slight jerk of his head. “Excuse us.” He began to lead her away, like a parent removing a child who was throwing a temper tantrum.
“Ashton! What are you doing?! Do you know who that is?!”
They went a little more distance, past Justin and Kelly, and by then the music drowned her out.
I continued watching them go, because what the hell was that about?
“This real?” One of the customers was inspecting my badge, and I grabbed it, put it back around my neck, slipped it inside my shirt.
I ignored that question. “What do you need to drink?”
It was after closing, and I was cleaning my bar when Ashton came back.
I straightened, the washrag in my hand. “What was that about?”
His eyes narrowed. “You honestly don’t know?”
“No.” I was done with this. After tossing my rag into the sink, I moved toward him until I was standing a few feet away. I crossed my arms over my chest. “She called my mother a whore and a slut and said she wants to make us homeless. We’re past games right now. What was that about?”
First things first. I wanted to know.
Ashton was going to tell me. I knew it. I was banking on it.
He stared at me, long and hard, and I was aware of the attention we were getting from the other workers because it was not often our owners came down to the floor after we’d closed, or at all.
Like I said before, I’d worked here for how long and had had no clue who really owned the bar. That spoke volumes.
“Your mother had an affair with Dominic West. It was before your father died, and no, Trace has no idea, but he will after tonight. He was told just moments ago. Your mother was the reason their mother killed herself. She found out about the affair.” He moved closer.
“It’s the reason your father stopped working for Trace’s. ”
Jesus.
I was rocked.
I was wheeling.
My mother ... their mother.
I kept hearing Trace’s words earlier today.
The coincidence was too much, but ... my father had worked for his. I was never told the specifics. I was kept out of it on purpose, my mother saying on more than one occasion that I didn’t need to bother with that “stuff.” That’s what she said. Stuff.
But she had affairs. I knew she did, and so did he. My father.
He was in that world before he died.
It could be true. It could all be true.
“For what it’s worth, Dominic is a piece of shit.
I’m told your mother is cut from the same cloth.
My advice? Stop fighting and just fuck Trace.
It’s getting old, this whole torture episode the both of you have going on.
” He drew back, his face firming again. “Remmi won’t bother you again, and we took the liberty of moving your car into the secured spot.
Your ride is waiting outside when you’re done. ”
I was still reeling from the mother/father thing, but right. Okay. Back to business as usual.
Trace was waiting for me, because I had texted him earlier, agreeing to the ride home.
“Jess.”
I drew upright, focusing back on Ashton. He was waiting.
“Yes?”
“I don’t care what kind of badge you’re carrying. You need to be aware of what I’ll do if you hurt him. If you hurt my best friend, I will kill you.”
With that said, he smiled, waved, and left.
Right. Okay.
Trace: Are you coming?