Chapter 2
Chapter Two
ULY
Four plates, two mugs, and it wasn’t even eight yet.
Uncle Dom was right. This job wasn’t for me.
Or, rather, I wasn’t right for this job.
The pitying looks I got each time I dropped something were old the first day.
Now they upset me, and that made me more anxious.
It was a vicious cycle, feeding on my own doubts and insecurities.
A blast of cold air had me shivering in the warm diner.
I looked up to find a group of six men entering.
One of them was obviously in charge, considering how everyone else was following behind him.
He was a big ol’ drink of water. Tall and broad, with a neatly trimmed beard and mustache, plus a suit that molded to his frame, he was the master of his world.
I might have hated him just a little. I didn’t want to be the master, but it would be nice if I could be more than. .. me.
I snatched menus from beneath the counter and headed toward the men. “I got it, Uncle Dom.”
“Uly, I’m not sure—”
Before he could finish his sentence, I was already at the table.
I handed them the menu, then stood, pad and paper in hand, waiting to see what they’d say.
Some places had those nifty little handheld devices where you could input the order, and it would show up in the kitchen.
Uncle Dom wanted to be more old school, so I had to write it out and hope I could read my own writing by the time I got back to the register.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen. What can I get for you today?”
“An IV of your strongest coffee, please,” the biggest of the men said right before he groaned. “And about forty ibuprofen.”
The others sat stone faced, and I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or not.
“My assistant said you had a coffee called Death Shot. I need four, with extra shots.”
“Four double shot Death Shot coming up. And you, sir?”
The man I spoke to scowled at me, then returned his attention to the other man again. “Can’t we continue this back at the office?”
The glare he got had the guy almost whimpering.
“I need coffee if I’m going to think. We’ve been going round and round about this all morning, and frankly I’m tired of it.
Not one of you can explain to me why you’re losing money, so I have to sift through all the financials to see where the problem is. ”
“But we told you, there should be no discrepancy. Our accountant is one of the best in Milwaukee, and he assures us that—”
“I’ll find out for myself, thank you,” the bigger man growled, low and threatening. Even I was wary of him. He turned his attention back to me. “I’m so very sorry. We’ll all have coffee, but I need the Death Shots and you’d better make it five for me.”
Five of those suckers would have him wired for weeks, but some people had to have them in order to survive in the corporate world.
“Of course, sir. I’ll get those to you right away.”
He nodded, and I went back to the counter.
Uncle Dom was busy with another table, so I started making the coffee, adding a few extra pumps of Death Shot to the man’s order.
I liked him. He was the kind who didn’t take no for an answer when he wanted something.
He was poised, sophisticated, well spoken, and he apparently had manners until he was dealing with business.
I wanted to be more like him with every passing moment.
I should have known that train of thought was going to lead to trouble.
I watched as the man held court over the guys he sat with.
He shook his head harshly, then stabbed a finger at the stack of papers in front of him.
From where I stood, I could hear the angry murmurs, but couldn’t make out the words.
“Uly!”
I jerked my head up, to find Uncle Dom standing there, a horrified expression on his face. I snapped my gaze back to the coffee machine, and saw the reason he was so freaked. Since I hadn’t turned the machine off, it continued to pour coffee, and a big, brown puddle formed at my feet.
“Shit! I’m sorry, Uncle Dom! I—”
He huffed out a breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Go home, Uly. I can’t have this anymore. I’m sorry, but this isn’t going to work out. I’ll send you your last check, and—”
It wasn’t like I didn’t know this was coming. He was right. I’d been nothing but problems ever since he took me on. “Keep it,” I said, my stomach clenching. “For all the trouble I’ve caused you.”
“No, you—”
“I should go. The big guy at the table wants the five extra shot Death Shots. The others are having regular coffee.” I turned to him, putting on my best smile. “Thank you for the opportunity. I hope I get the chance to see you at Thanksgiving.”
He held out a hand, but I ducked it and headed for the door. I stopped at the table, to let the men know what was going on. My chest tightened as I got near them, and I hoped I’d be able to keep it together.
“Gentlemen, the owner will be bringing your coffee out. Thank you for coming, and I hope you have a great day.”
I made to leave before the tears started, and then it happened.
My foot hooked the leg of one of the chairs, and I went down.
Well, to be fair, I started to go down, when these big mitts wrapped around my waist and held me up, literally lifting me from the floor as if I was weightless.
Which, to him, I probably was. He put me on my feet, then turned me to face him.
“Are you okay?”
Not really, no. I was on the verge of breaking down. Not only had I just lost my job, but I’d embarrassed myself in front of the businessmen. “Sure, I’m fine. Thank you for... You know what, just thanks. Let me get out of your way.”
My hands shook as I turned to go. Bad enough I was going to have to find a new job, but now these guys saw me in all my freaking glory. What a way to end my barista career on a high note.
“Stop,” the man growled, and his voice went right through me. “Sit down.”
I glanced over my shoulder, trying to give him a smile. “Oh, I—”
“Clear a space,” he ordered.
All of the men scrambled to move, opening up several seats. “Sit,” the big man demanded again.
So I sat. I glanced at Uncle Dom, who stood there, eyes wide, while he made the coffee order.
“You’re upset. Please tell me why.”
The world faded into the background as I stared into the most amazing eyes. Deep brown, like coffee, with flecks of gold and green swirled in them. I was a fan already.
“It’s nothing. I should leave, though—”
“Not until you tell me what has you so agitated.”
“You know what? It doesn’t matter. Enjoy your—”
“If you walk out that door, I will follow you and drag your scrawny ass back in here,” he said, his voice low and rumbly. “Now, I asked why you’re upset, and I expect you to answer me.”
A dozen thoughts went through my head. I didn’t know this guy, and I had nothing to keep me here, except being pinned by that intense gaze. If I got up, would he really follow me? That was crazy, right? No one did that kind of thing.
“Tell me your name,” he kind of demanded. Well, not so much demanded, maybe. I mean he spoke softly, but there was the order of a man who was used to getting his way.
“Ulysses,” I replied. “People call me Uly.”
“Very well.” He turned toward the other men. “Gentlemen, can you give us a few minutes? I need to speak to Uly.”
They moved out of the door so fast, I couldn’t believe it. What the hell was happening here?
“Uly? I asked you a question, so please answer me.”
A real man would tell him to fuck off. A real man would get up and storm out, ignoring the guy’s insistence. Me? I stared down at my hands which I couldn’t seem to stop from twisting together.
“I got fired. Well, to be fair, I quit before I got fired.”
“Why?”
I shook my head. I really didn’t want to do this.
“Tell me why, Uly. I can sit here all day if I have to.”
And after what I’d seen, something in me believed he would.
The story started slowly, and I paused at different points, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t sound ridiculous.
Through it all, he sat and stared at me.
My nerves continued to ratchet up as I bared the highlights of all my clumsy little secrets to him.
I often thought that having people see me when I had a mishap was the worst thing possible, but I was wrong.
Telling this man everything that was messed up in my life? That was infinitely worse.
“I see,” he said finally. “Tell me something, Uly. Is there anything keeping you in Milwaukee?”
Well, there had been, but now that I was jobless? “Not anymore.”
“Very well.” He reached into his suit, fiddled for a moment, then withdrew a business card, that he then passed over to me.
I took it and turned it in my hand. It was far heavier than any other card I’d ever held, not that there were a lot of them.
This one was gunmetal gray and the name Brent Lockhart was prominent, and beneath that a company name and logo had been etched into it.
As I stared, I realized it was actual metal.
“Ursine Incorporated?”
He nodded. “We have businesses across the globe, some specializing in things only found on those continents. We’ve got different divisions that sell a variety of things, such as high end computer equipment, crystalware, and the like.
We have bakeries and restaurants in many towns.
That’s only a small fraction of what we do, though. ”
“Okay....”
He smiled, and it was oddly warming. “I want you to come work for me.”
I had to have misheard him. No way did he say what I thought he did. “Wait. You want what?”
“I want you to come work for me.”
“But you don’t even know me. I could be.... I don’t know. A psychopath or something.”
“Oh, I have little doubt of that.” He grinned. “I’m a good judge of character. I don’t vacillate on whether I want to do something. When we arrived, you were pleasant, courteous, considerate, and kind.”