7. Rogue
“We’ve got a problem.”
I roll away from Glitter, the newest club bunny, and balance my cell between my ear and shoulder as I climb out of bed. When I glance at the clock and see it’s almost ten in the morning, I groan.
“Well, it’s too early for the bar to be open so unless the damn building is on fire, I’m hanging up.”
“Wait!”
His shout stops me from disconnecting the call. “What?”
“The till was short last night.”
My body stiffens, and I reach out to shake Glitter. “Get up and get out,” I order as she slowly stirs to life.
“Uh, boss, I’m no?—”
“Not talking to you,” I snap.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Glitter asks as she leans toward me. “I thought we had a good time.”
“Oh.” Waylon chuckles. “I interrupted something.”
“You didn’t interrupt shit,” I tell him. “Glitter, out, now.” She opens her mouth to protest, but I wrap my hand around her throat, and not in a fun way. “Look, I know you’re new around here, but when a brother tells you to get the hell out, you get the hell out. Understood?”
Her eyes widen at my tone, and she nods. “Y-yeah.”
When I lower my hand, Glitter scurries from the room like a scared little mouse which is a far cry from the hellcat that graced my bed most of the night. Shit, I’d have preferred the mouse.
Once she’s gone, I turn my attention back to Waylon. “How short was it?”
“Huh?”
“The till,” I bark. “You said it was short last night.”
“Oh, right.” Waylon inhales, and air whooshes through the line when he exhales. “I’ve double-checked it several times, and?—”
“How much?” He rattles off a number, and I’m surprised at how low it is. “You woke me up for that?”
“No, of cou?—”
“Weren’t the computers down all night?”
“Yes, but?—”
“Then I’d expect there to be a few errors.” I heave a sigh. “It was a busy night, and mistakes happen.”
“Normally, I’d agree with you,” he admits. “But only one of the staff’s numbers didn’t add up.”
“Who?”
“Skye’s drawer was short.”
“Tony’s wasn’t?”
“No, in fact, his was over by five cents,” Waylon states.
“Okay, well, you’re the manager,” I snap. “Handle it.”
“Do you really think I’d be calling you if I hadn’t already tried to do exactly that?”
“Don’t get a fucking attitude.”
“Sorry, it’s just…”
“What, Waylon? Spit it out.”
“I don’t know, boss. When I confronted Skye about it, she was evasive, like she was trying to hide something. I think you should talk to her.”
Because I have so much time for that.
“What time does her shift start tonight?”
“Four.”
“Fine. I’ll be in to talk to her.”
I disconnect the call and fight the urge to crawl back into bed. If I have to go into Purgatory tonight, I need to spend the rest of the day getting shit done.
The next few hours go by in a blur, and before I know it, it’s time to head to the bar. As I pull into the backlot, Skye is just getting out of her car. I park my Harley and quickly follow her inside.
“Hey, Skye,” I say when I step up beside her.
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and shifts her eyes to look at me. “Hi.”
“Once you get clocked in, can you come to the office?” I ask. “I wanna talk to you about something.”
“Yeah, sure.”
When she turns toward the main bar, I make my way to the office. Waylon is sitting at the desk when I enter.
“Shouldn’t you be out on the floor?”
“Tony’s got it handled,” he tells me. “We’re not that busy yet.”
“Well, get out there. You wanted me to talk to Skye, and I don’t need an audience.”
He stands and moves toward the door, but before he leaves, he faces me and points to the desk. “The log from last night is right there. I added in what Skye had in tips, but it still didn’t cover everything missing.”
“You took her tips?”
“I did.”
I’m not sure how I feel about that. I’ve watched Skye for the last two and a half years, and she works her ass off. If there really is something going on or if she’s hiding something, that’s one thing. But if this all turns out to be an honest mistake, taking her hard-earned money is the last thing I want to do.
“Oh, sorry.”
Waylon whirls around as I shift my gaze to Skye, who just walked through the door.
“C’mon in,” I urge her. “Waylon, I’ve got this. Go cover the bar.”
Waylon nods, and as he walks past Skye, he glares at her. She averts her gaze and fidgets with her hands.
“You okay?” I ask, watching her carefully.
“I, uh… yeah.”
“Have a seat.”
She takes a deep breath and does as instructed. Skye glances around the room, and when her eyes finally settle on mine, I smile.
“You enjoy your job, Skye?”
For the first time since I saw her in the parking lot earlier, she grins. “I love it.” There’s a spark in her eyes when she says this, and it lights up her entire face.
Rather than waste more time with niceties, I dive right into the reason I’m here. “What happened last night?”
The light immediately goes out, and Skye wraps her arms around herself as if she needs the protection. In an effort to give her a second to compose herself, I lift the log that Waylon left and glance at the numbers.
“It was a bad night,” she says quietly, after a few minutes. “But I did the?—”
Best to just rip off the Band-Aid.
“Your drawer was short,” I spit out, and she levels her eyes on mine. “I know the computers were down, but you were the only one short on money at the end of the night.”
“I explained this to Waylon,” she says. “I just made a mistake.”
“He didn’t believe you.”
“Obviously,” she snipes, frustration in her tone. “But I didn’t d?—”
“Did you steal money from Purgatory last night, Skye?”
Rather than maintain her annoyance, she does something that completely throws me off balance…
Skye bursts into tears.