Chapter 6 #2
“No, not for real,” Hannah said impatiently. “But Midas, come on. This is the second time this has happened. Do you want to give the county an easy reason to shut us down?”
“That’s a little dramatic, Hannah, even for you. We’re on a sinking ship here.”
“And we’re gonna run the ship as well as we can until it’s time to jump overboard,” Hannah said pointedly.
A sinking ship. Was that really how they felt about the Cricket’s future?
The idea of a sinking ship was so fatalistic, so inevitable, but I couldn’t understand why that should be the case with the Cricket.
Otis Penny had said there were decent sales over the last few years, and from what I had seen, there were plenty of patrons who were thrilled to call this place home.
So why did Midas and Hannah think the bar was doomed?
Was this Hatch’s negative influence? Surely Uncle George didn’t think all was lost, or he wouldn’t have left the bar to me …
“All right, all right, I’m sorry,” Midas said, bringing me back to the moment at hand. “I just didn’t want to insult her! She looked like she could’ve been of age, and how am I supposed to know what a South Dakota ID looks like?”
“That should have been your first clue. Who the hell comes to Alabama from South Dakota? And this kid looks like she’s fifteen—”
“Rude,” I interjected.
“Hannah,” Midas said with the air of explaining something to an alien visitor, “it’s insulting to question someone’s age.
Do you know how many of my relatives look younger than they are?
Like yeah, we’re short, I get it, but I’d get my ass whooped if I carded one of my older cousins.
Just because you clearly look like you could be forty, doesn’t mean—”
“I don’t look like I’m forty!”
“See? So insulting.” Midas held up his palms, the picture of innocence. “I’m an easygoing guy, and I’m in the habit of believing people.”
Hannah shook her head like she had run out of steam for this conversation. “Fucking himbo,” she grumbled.
“Crotchety lesbian,” he shot back.
Hannah took her dishrag and smacked him across the ass.
“HR!” Midas yelped, running away from her. “HR violation!”
“So that’s Midas,” Hannah said easily, as if they hadn’t just bickered like a preteen brother and sister. “You’ll never forget his name, because if you do, he’ll use his classic line about being ‘the king with the golden touch.’”
I stared after him. “Do we have HR?”
She snorted. “No. We have Hatch.”
I bit my lip. “You didn’t have to put me on the spot with Midas. I was gonna apologize to him about the other night.”
“Go ahead, you still can. He’s probably scampered off to fix his hair.”
Before I could start in Midas’s direction, however, the back door slammed and heavy footfalls plodded down the hallway.
“Oof, Papa Bear’s here, and he sounds pissed,” Hannah said with the air of someone commenting on the weather. “I don’t have the energy for this. Louisa, you can update Hatch on how the day’s been so far.”
She zipped off without another word. Before I could do more than move to stand by the register, intending to look busy, Hatch stormed into the room.
Now that I knew who he was, I felt the great physicality of his presence.
He reminded me of a polar bear: big and imposing, with piercing blue eyes and shocks of white in his short, careful beard and close-cut hair.
Gone was the gardening hat and outdoor clothes; today he wore a maroon polo shirt that stretched over his belly and tucked into his dark jeans.
A carabiner of brass keys hung from his belt loop, more than twenty of them jangling together so that when he walked around the bar to glare at me, he both looked and sounded like the Sheriff of Nottingham.
When his eyes fell on me, he stopped abruptly and sized me up. There was a long silence while we stared at each other, Hatch burying his fists into his jeans pockets.
“So you’re really doing this,” he said finally.
I squared my shoulders and tried to sound matter-of-fact. “I am.”
He dug his tongue between his teeth. Waited.
“Hannah taught me how to make a few drinks,” I offered.
The words may as well have bounced right off him. He continued to stare at me, those ice-blue eyes ripping through me. “I’m not paying you,” he repeated.
“I don’t need you to.” His intense eyes were starting to make me nervous, so I turned to the register and pretended I was in the middle of doing something. “Besides, that pay affects my bottom line, too.”
He snorted, and I looked up despite my commitment to playing it cool. I hadn’t been trying to sound funny.
“Do you even know what a bottom line is, Louisa?”
I glared at him. “I know it’s essentially the money you’re left with once costs have been taken out.”
Hatch raised his eyebrows comically, like I was telling a joke to a whole audience of people only he could see. “Look at that. A business savant.”
I scowled at him. “I don’t have to understand ‘business’ to know what this place means to people.”
Hatch hiked his eyebrows again. “Do you think I don’t know what it means to people?”
“I know you’re ready to sell out to the university,” I said angrily.
“That you’re fine with giving up this safe space so the precious football program can have one more freaking thing.
” I hadn’t meant to reveal this knowledge yet—I’d wanted to see how long it would take Hatch to tell me—but he was getting under my skin, and I wanted to get under his, too.
Hatch blinked slowly. His hands remained in his pockets like he was having a pleasant chat at the grocery store. “You weren’t this smart-mouthed when you were little,” he said finally.
I set my jaw. “That was a long time ago.”
An indecipherable expression passed over Hatch’s face. “Yes, it was.”
Just then, Hannah breezed back in. She stopped between us, looking from one to the other, before she rolled her eyes theatrically. “Hatch, give it a rest. The kid is one of us.”
Hatch was about to respond when the front door banged open. We all turned to look.
Standing there in the sunlight, looking for all the world like he’d just stepped off a cruise ship, was Otis Penny.
“Uh-oh,” Hannah said, not looking the least bit worried.
Hatch leaned aggressively against the bar top, putting all his weight on his palms. He forgot about tearing into me and set his sights on Otis instead.
The scowl on his face could have stopped a preacher.
“You can walk right out that door,” he growled.
“In this establishment, we serve friends, not traitors.”
Otis seemed completely unperturbed. “Come on now, Hatch, I did what was asked of me.” He took off his Panama hat, spun it in his hands, and waltzed right up to the bar. “I’ll take a Moscow Mule.”
“Did you not hear what I just said?”
Otis sat himself on a stool, plopping his hat down on the counter. “I’ll take extra ice, too.”
“You’re trying my patience, Otis.”
“And you’re trying mine. I’ve been running around in the heat all morning, so I’d like that Mule sooner than later, thank you.”
Hatch doubled down onto his palms, leaning forward to stare Otis Penny in the eyes. “I thought you and I had an understanding.”
“We do,” Otis said coolly. “Part of that understanding is about the man we were dealing with. You know better than anyone how he could be.” Unfazed, Otis smacked his lips and looked around to Hannah and me. “I don’t suppose one of y’all could whip up that drink for me?”
“I’ve got you, Otis,” Hannah said. She breezed behind Hatch, who threw a half-assed scowl at her that she completely ignored.
“Thank you, darling,” Otis said. “Now, Hatch, do you wanna speak about this in private? Or is this part of the show for customers now?”
Hatch looked around at the scattered patrons, who were all blatantly watching the exchange. He cleared his throat and waved a hand around. “Mind your business, y’all. Just some foreplay between two old friends.”
Otis cracked a laugh that seemed genuine. “You should only be so lucky.”
“You’re not my type anyway,” Hatch shot back.
Otis stood up from his barstool and accepted the fresh Moscow Mule from Hannah. “Thank you, doll.” He looked at Hatch. “Well?”
“My office,” Hatch grunted. He turned to go, but stopped and tossed a look back at me. “And as for you…”
I waited.
“If you really wanna keep this place running, then here’s your first real assignment: Call that awful grandfather of yours and remind him the electrician is overdue.
Oh, and clean RuPaw’s litter box. Every day.
Twice a day.” He smirked in a self-satisfied way and prowled back to his office without checking to see if Otis followed him.
“Best of luck, Lou-anna,” Otis said, shuffling past me with a wink.
I waited for the office door to snap shut before I turned to Hannah. “What did Mr. Penny call me?”
“He doesn’t know anyone’s name. I’m always ‘sweetheart’ or ‘darling’ or ‘Blue Eyes.’ Rumor has it his secretary prints out his clients’ names in fat green ink, all caps, size sixty, before he takes a meeting.”
“At least he’s nicer than Hatch.”
“Don’t take it personally,” Hannah said. “Hatch is like an old street cat. Needs to feel people out. That’s why he and RuPaw get along so well.”
I stared her down, trying to appear more assertive than I felt. “You didn’t have to dump him on me. That’s the second time you’ve hung me out to dry today.”
Hannah’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “It’s good for you, darling. Welcome to the family.”