6. Chapter 6
Evan
Cecil: Update.
Evan chewed their lip, gaze flickering around the pub before landing on the phone screen again.
Their shoulders slumped a little, unsure how to reply with anything but a “fuck you, old man.” Did Cecil not care at all that Evan had to sleep under the bridge the night before?
He would never have pulled that stunt with his beloved Caleb.
It’d taken every ounce of inner strength Evan had today to walk across the street and through the doors of O’Rourke’s.
It was like the first time all over again, the spike of adrenaline and fear making their legs rubbery and their stomach cramp so hard Evan worried they’d lose the bagel they’d eaten earlier.
But their stepfather didn’t care about that.
Evan: Several staff out sick. I’m working on a plan to get me on the inside
Or I was, until I ran out like a fucking chickenshit. Would Frankie even hire them now?
Cecil: Good work. Did you do the salt trick?
Evan’s jaw went slack. Is he serious right now? Did Cecil really think Evan was capable of playing around with salt measurements in filtered water? Their aim was to bring Frankie down, not kill her innocent staff.
Evan: I didn’t get out of prison just to go back in. So far shit has been by the book.
Evan: Mostly.
Cecil: You said you’d get the job done. Don’t let your mother down, kid. Again.
Evan gripped the phone tighter in their hand, jaw clenching just as hard.
Fucking crazy old man. Evan’s entire life had been like this.
Them chasing after Caleb and Cecil, trying like hell to make Cecil love them as much as he did Caleb.
It never did work, and when Caleb died, the pedestal had already been too steep for Evan to climb.
“Evan, heyyy.”
Sloane’s voice startled Evan out of the self-loathing trip down memory lane, and they blinked, quickly placing their cell phone face down on the booth table they occupied. Despite the emotional turbulence that swooshed around in the pit of their stomach, Evan managed a small smile. “Hey.”
Sloane flopped down across from Evan, her easy grin relaxing them slightly. “With the way you tore out of here last night, I didn’t think I’d see you again. Happy to see I was wrong.”
Was she flirting with Evan? Their cheeks warmed, and they fought the desire to fidget by squeezing their hands together on the table.
It was doubtful. The idea that Sloane was attracted to them was almost obscene.
Sloane was fun and pretty and surely an intelligent woman.
It would only take one look to realize how different their worlds were.
“Yeah, I”—Evan blew out a breath—“forgot I had to take care of somethin’.”
“I like the way you talk.” Sloane propped her chin in her hand, elbow resting on the table. Her green gaze was bright with interest. “Like you’ve got attitude, but you’re almost too shy to show it. There’s an edge to your words.”
“Trying to suss out deets on my background, Sloane?” Evan cocked their head, arching one eyebrow in an unimpressed look.
“Oooh, defensive too.” Sloane laughed, and Evan got a pleasant view of her straight white teeth as her full lips pulled back. The stud piercing in her nostril and long eyelashes only added to her appeal.
Evan looked away and reluctantly caught Frankie’s gaze on them from behind the bar.
She wore a plum-colored suit today with a black top underneath, once again open at the collar.
Strands of her long hair had escaped its clip, and now tendrils of blonde, espresso, and strawberry teased Frankie’s cheek.
Evan gritted their teeth, forcing their attention back to Sloane to stammer, “S-shouldn’t you be taking my order or somethin’? ”
Sloane turned in her seat to look where Evan had, sighing dramatically.
“Yeah, I better, or Frankie’s claws will come out.
” She chuckled again before sliding out of the booth to take position next to Evan.
Pulling a tablet out of her apron pocket, she leaned her hip against Evan’s table. “So, what’ll it be, cutie?”
Evan tried like hell not to blush at the flirty endearment but felt the burst of heat rise to their cheeks, nonetheless.
They adjusted their glasses and pulled the menu closer.
The words and letters danced on the page, blending into one another and pulling apart again, but not slow enough for Evan to catch them.
Their ears began to ring loudly, Sloane’s presence no doubt exaggerating Evan’s condition.
Swallowing down bile, they slammed the menu closed.
“I-I’ll have a burger and fries, hold the mustard.” They were sweating and couldn’t quite meet Sloane’s gaze as they held the menu up for her to take. “Thanks.”
“Sure thing, Evan.”
Evan breathed a relieved sigh the moment Sloane left. Fuck, some spy I’m turning out to be. They’d worked one shift in the kitchen and hadn’t remembered anything on the menu but the burger.
They eyed the video surveillance secured to the wall over the bar, then casually took in the one by the entrance.
There was enough surveillance in the main part of the pub that Evan was confident it would be too risky to sabotage Frankie’s front house.
Whatever concrete plan they came up with would have to be behind closed doors.
Frankie’s office would be a good start. If Evan could uncover financial records, then perhaps they could bring the bitch down that way before the grand finale.
They started when a white letter envelope landed on the table in front of them. Evan blinked out of their daze, staring up at none other than Frankie. “Your check from last night.”
“Oh, uh, thanks, I guess.” Evan’s stomach clenched and then did a strange flip-flop. She was so close that Evan worried they’d suffocate with every inhale of the enticing perfume she wore.
“You guess?” Frankie echoed, giving them an odd look.
Evan held their breath, hoping Frankie wouldn’t take it upon herself to sit down like Sloane had.
They stared at Frankie’s hands resting confidently on her hips.
You can take the woman out of the uniform, but at the end of the day, she’s still the same pig.
Evan swallowed, unable to tear their gaze away. They tried to imagine Frankie holding a gun. What had it taken for her to pull the trigger? Two hands on the grip, or just the one? Had they shaken at all? Were there seconds before the trigger was pulled where Frankie had reconsidered?
“Anyway, I wanted to thank you again for the help last night. The flu appears to be hitting everyone at once.” Frankie sighed. “Lian is back, and now Jessie’s out sick.”
“Jessie is … another server?” Evan already knew at least five facts about the part-time employee, but playing along was key to this game.
“Dishwasher, actually.” The tip of Frankie’s tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and Evan zeroed in on the small, indecisive movement. “… the job.”
“Hmm?” Evan shook their head, tearing their gaze from Frankie’s mouth to look at her eyes.
Frankie took the seat Sloane had vacated and clasped her hands together.
“Did you still want the job? I could use another person to float between the kitchen and bussing tables. The pay is fair, and the tips are divided amongst the staff, myself excluded. I don’t ask for much, but no stealing or selling liquor to minors is a must. I require honesty and hard work while you’re here.
Each eight-hour shift allows for a half-hour unpaid dinner break and two fifteen-minute paid breaks. Thoughts?”
Evan was slow to respond. In fact, in the lengthy silence, Sloane returned with their cheeseburger platter, shooting Evan a wide smile as she placed the plate down in front of them before leaving again.
If Evan took the job and later Frankie became suspicious of them, they risked Frankie looking into their past. Cecil always said it was better to stick to the truth as much as possible when lying.
If Evan gave Frankie something juicy about them, she might not bother looking into anything further.
Picking up their burger, Evan met Frankie’s eyes briefly, took a deep breath, and said quietly, “I’ve got a criminal record.”
Frankie’s eyes widened marginally, and she cocked her head to the side. “Did you serve time?”
Evan nodded, biting into their burger. A groan slipped out at the burst of flavors on their tongue.
The bagel they’d had hours earlier hadn’t been substantial enough to hold them.
And damn, they were much too appreciative at the moment to think about being guilty over the pockets they’d picked to land them a bit of cash for a meal.
Cards were much riskier to use, so Evan preferred cash whenever possible.
“What were you in for?” Frankie glanced around the pub, likely eager to get back to work. There was an afternoon lull with only three tables occupied now, but Evan was sure it could change in a heartbeat.
“Breaking and entering,” Evan said between bites. They squirted a dollop of ketchup on the side of their plate, then picked up a fry to wave in Frankie’s direction. “Served five years, one in juvie before they moved me.”
“No early parole?”
Evan shook their head. Keeping eyes downcast, they murmured, “You know how parole works?”
Since Frankie’s past in Toronto seemed to have stayed there, Evan expected her to evade the question. It was personal, and as far as Frankie was concerned, she and Evan were virtually strangers.
“I should. I was a cop once.”
The fry Evan had been mid-chew on slid down the wrong way, and they choked.