Chapter 13
Thirteen
Harper
I don’t expect the phone call from Dante. There’s no warning, no text before my cell phone rings. He is saved in my phone, not by my own choice, and I feel the burden of responsibility weigh heavily as I answer the call.
“Hello,” I say, hoping he mis-dialed.
It’s not even Friday yet.
“Harper.” His voice sends a shiver down my spine. It’s definitely Dante Ricci. “I wanted to talk to you about a job I have for you.”
I press my lips together, inhaling sharply. “Sir, I have school and my son—”
He cuts me off. “I’m aware, which is why the job will be Friday evening through Sunday afternoon. I have a bar that I own, Bloody Rogue; I want you to start bartending for me.”
“Are you serious? I’m not old enough to drink.”
“No, but you are old enough to serve alcohol,” Dante says, and I swear I can see the smile plastered to his face.
“Why do you want me to bartend? I don’t know anything about making drinks.”
“You’ll learn.” His answer is simple and quaint, unlike Dante.
I exhale a nervous breath. “When do I start? I’ll need to make sure I have a sitter for Zeke if you want me to cover Friday evenings, especially if Luca has a game.”
“You can swing by our house before your shift on Friday. The bar isn’t far from the house, just a couple minutes’ drive. Paige or Nikki will be available to watch Zeke; I’ll make sure of it. After work, you’ll come stay the weekend with us.”
“And Luca? How is he getting there if I have to borrow his car?”
“You’ll have your own car, dear. So long as you’re working for me, we take care of our own.”
I bite down on my tongue, keeping from saying something I’ll regret later.
“Seeing as how Luca has a Saturday game this week, I’ll have Moreno swing by and pick him up after the game.”
I despise the thought of sleeping at the Riccis’ alone. Although I won’t technically be alone, I’ll have Zeke, which isn’t entirely reassuring.
He’s been sleeping in our bed every night this week. The window is fixed in his bedroom, the evidence of the break-in completely gone, but I haven’t found the strength to put him back in his bed, too afraid I’ll wake up and he’ll be gone.
Friday, when my classes are done, I pick Zeke up from daycare, and we head over to the Ricci home.
Luca is with his teammates, getting ready for practice and tomorrow’s big game. I hate not being there to see him play, to support him, but I don’t have a choice.
When his father calls and gives an order, I’ve learned that I must follow it.
I’ve seen and heard what he’s capable of, and I don’t want to get on his bad side, especially if I’m being forced to work for him.
I owe Dante.
And he’s also protecting Luca. I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t to keep Luca safe as well.
I drop off Zeke with Nikki, and Dante heads out ahead of me as I follow in Luca’s car, driving to the bar.
I’ve never been to the Bloody Rogue. I’m expecting a rickety hole-in-the-wall tavern. The place may have been that way years ago when it was open, but it’s much bigger than I anticipate.
From the outside, it looks like a massive log cabin. The wooden sign hanging by the door indicates it’s a bar, with the picture of ale and the name Bloody Rogue on the front. I follow Dante inside, and the place smells of fresh wood.
He gives me a tour, shows me to my position behind the bar, and tells me to keep the drinks coming for customers, and if I don’t know what a specific cocktail is, to ask or look it up on my phone.
That much, I can handle.
Dante grabs a seat on the stool in front of the bar. “Whiskey neat.”
Is he testing me?
“That’s no ice,” I say, making sure I get it right.
“Correct. Top shelf.” He points at the shelf. “Ladyburn.”
I don’t know a damn thing about whiskey, but I grab the bottle and notice the spelling on Ladyburn is whisky, before I begin to pour. “What’s with the forty-one on the bottle?” I ask.
“It’s a forty-one-year-old single malt Scotch whisky.”
I pour into the glass with no ice.
“Don’t overdo it. That right there is nearly two grand a bottle.”
My eyes widen, and I’m careful not to spill a drop, concerned he might dock me for it. Hell, am I even getting paid for this gig, or am I free labor because he owns me and could force my hand at whatever he chooses?
I slide the glass to him and recap the bottle, placing it back on the shelf. He swirls the liquor around in his glass, staring at it.
“We never discussed pay.” I’m making a bold choice, bringing up the subject, but if I’m expected to work for Dante, shouldn’t I receive some type of compensation?
His eyes narrow and he lifts the glass to his lips, taking a small sip. “I suppose we haven’t.”
“I think it’s only fair that I keep my tips,” I say, hoping at minimum, I can bring in a few dollars a week.
He nods and sips his drink. “I can accept that.”
Maybe I should have asked for more, an hourly rate as well.
Dante grabs his drink and takes it, walking off.
“Hey! You forgot to tip your bartender.”
He glances at me over his shoulder. “No, I didn’t, Harper. I own the bar, just like I own you.”
I bite down on my tongue; rage burns inside of me and I’m grateful he’s walking away so I don’t say something regrettable to the mafia boss.
Friday night, I’m home late, working the bar until close. When I get back to the Riccis’, Zeke is already asleep in his own bed. I’m unsure how Nikki or Paige managed to do that, but I’m grateful.
Saturday morning, I have off, which gives me time to have breakfast and share a few cuddles with my son. It’s the first time he’s slept through the night since the shooting.
“Good morning,” Dante says, glancing up at me from his newspaper. He’s seated at the dining room table, a cup of coffee in front of him.
I sit Zeke down at the table, bringing him a plate of pancakes for breakfast.
“Morning,” I say, forcing a smile at Dante.
“Nikki will keep an eye on Zeke this afternoon. I have you covering the shift starting at two.”
“Until what time?” I ask, hoping I’ll be home earlier this evening.
“Close.” Dante doesn’t so much as look at me as he reads the paper.
“You’re having me work a twelve-hour shift, unpaid.” The disdain is evident in my tone.
Nikki’s soft voice startles me from behind. “Are you really expecting our daughter to work without pay, Dante?”
Dante closes his newspaper, glowering at me. “I’ve agreed to let her keep the tips.”
Nikki steals the seat next to Zeke, her attention stolen momentarily on my son before glaring at her husband. “You’re going to pay her a salary for working at your bar or—”
“Or what?” He raises an eyebrow, waiting for her to elaborate her threat.
The smirk adorns Nikki’s face. “Or you’ll start babysitting duty with little Zeke. I’m sure he’d love for you to spend more time with him.”
Dante grumbles under his breath and meets my stare, his expression cold as ice. “I will start paying you weekly for your work with me. How does five hundred per week sound?”
Nikki clears her throat, giving Dante a look.
“Fine. What about eight hundred per week? You will be expected to work no more than thirty hours while you’re in school, with a ten, twelve, and then six-hour shift on Sundays.”
I purse my lips, not entirely pleased with my hours. “And I still get to keep one hundred percent of all my tips, in addition to the eight hundred per week?”
Dante grumbles.
“What was that?” Nikki asks.
“Yes, you can keep your tips. Moreno is also picking up a car for you and Zeke, since you won’t necessarily be commuting with my son. Is there anything else you require?” His annoyance is not subtle.
“That’s all.”
After breakfast, Nikki takes me upstairs and sneaks me an extra couple hundred dollars.
“What’s this for?” I ask, glancing at the money in my hand.
“You’re going to need a new wardrobe for the bar. You want decent tips, right?”
I nod vigorously.
“You can’t go wearing that,” she says, gesturing at my thick wool sweater and jeans. “Guys want a sexy bartender, one who pays attention to them, makes them feel like they’re important and special.”
“You talk like you’ve worked at the bar before.”
“I’ve covered a couple of shifts over the years, but nothing long-term. While the place used to be solely Dante’s clientele, the business has grown over the past decade. We get all sorts of locals looking for a place to drink, unwind, or even hook up.”
I grimace.
“Don’t worry, I’m not suggesting you hook up with anyone. You’re married to my son,” she says, reminding me of something I don’t need a reminder of. I know I’m with Luca; I love him, immensely. I’d never even consider breaking that sacred bond.
She leads me to her closet, grabbing a couple of blouses, holding them until she finds one she’s satisfied with. “This one brings out the gold flecks in your eyes.” It’s a brown, gold, and amber blouse, the colors swirling together like a painted canvas, and it’s cut rather low.
“Are you sure that’s appropriate?” I ask.
“Guys love a little cleavage, and you’re working for tips.” She grabs a pair of black slacks. “I think these will fit. If not, we can raid Paige’s closet too.”
“I’m sure this will be fine.”
Nikki practically pushes me into the bathroom, insisting I try on the new clothes. She shuts the door behind me, keeping an eye on Zeke while I change into her clothes.
Wearing Luca’s clothes has always come like second nature. I love his sweatshirts, they’re oversized for me, and while I swim in them, they’re comforting. Even his t-shirts make me smell like him.
Putting on Nikki’s clothing is a different experience.
It makes me feel far more sophisticated.
Older.
Wiser.
I open the bathroom door, letting her see how it looks on me. “I like it. We just need to grab you a pair of black shoes to go with the ensemble.”
“It’s too much,” I say, and she holds up a hand, silencing me.
“You’re just borrowing it for tonight. That’s why I gave you cash. I want you to buy a few things of your own, but if you’d prefer, I’ll go with you and help you pick out what to wear…” her voice trails off. “Perhaps we should do that.”
“When?” I ask. It’s not as though I have a lot of free time, with Dante putting me to work and then classes and assignments during the week.
“I’ll talk to my husband,” Nikki says, the ever-present smile on her face. The woman is positively radiant.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” She laughs. “He can be a bit difficult, as I’m sure you’re well aware, but I’ll see if he will give you tomorrow off so we can go shopping for work attire. It isn’t like he gave you much notice about this job.”
Nikki is right about that. Dante loves to drop last minute tasks on those who work for him. I swear he gets off on it.
Saturday evening, the bar has a few more patrons, none of them familiar. Tonight, Dante isn’t in attendance, and I’m glad for the reprieve. I won’t have to serve him or worry that he’s watching my every move.
“Can I get a Gentleman Jack, neat?”
“Don’t tell me you’re ordering that because you’re a gentleman,” I say and spin around on my heels, glancing at the shelf, trying to find the bottle he’s requesting.
He chuckles under his breath. “Guilty as charged.”
He notices me struggling to locate the bottle. There are so many different types of liquor, and he points at the shelf that it’s on. “Over there.”
“Thanks,” I say, grabbing the bottle of Jack Daniel’s Gentleman Jack. I’ve heard of Jack Daniel’s, but I don’t recognize this bottle. Seems a bit pricier, but if he’s tipping based on the bill, then awesome!
I pour his liquor neat into a glass and slide it across the bar top to him. “Can I get you anything else?” I ask, batting my eyelashes, smiling at him.
“I’d like to buy you a drink,” he says, smiling a little too friendly.
I don’t tell him I’m not twenty-one yet. “I’m good.”
“Come on, you can’t say no.” He pins me with his dark eyes, and I shift on the balls of my feet.
“Okay, just this once. And don’t tell my boss.”
“I would never.” He smiles a genuine grin while I pour myself a glass of what he’s having and down it, wincing from the taste.
“You’re supposed to sip that,” he tells me. “Now, you’ll have to pour another round.” He gestures to my empty glass.
Well, shit.
“This is going on your tab,” I say, and he nods in agreement before I pour the second glass for myself.
“I’m Jayden, by the way.” He nods, giving me his name. He’s quite a bit older than I am, the man could be my father.
“I’m married,” I say, forcing a smile.
Jayden chuckles. “Don’t worry, so am I.” He shows me the wedding band on his ring finger. “Ten years this May.”
“Congratulations.” I glance down at the open bottle of Gentleman Jack, re-secure the lid and place it back on the shelf. I really don’t want to accidentally knock that shit over.
“I promise I’m not hitting on you,” Jayden says. “Not that you’re not stunning,” he gives me a cocky grin, “but I’m happily married.”
“You keep saying that.” I lift the glass and take a small sip of the bourbon. I’ll never get used to drinking this stuff.
“My wife is away on a girls’ trip this weekend, so I’m enjoying some time alone.”
“Doesn’t really seem like you’re alone.” I grab a rag and wipe the bar top clean before getting a drink for another patron and pocketing the cash tip.
“Hey, I’m married, can I get another?” Jayden asks, showing me his empty glass.
I retrieve the bottle and pour him another round. “It’s Harper,” I say, giving him my first name.
“Thanks, Harper. Can you ring up my bill?”
“Sure.” I close out his tab and slide the bill onto the bar top.
He hands over his credit card along with a crisp fifty-dollar bill. “The cash is for you.”
“Thank you,” I say, trying to hide my surprise. His entire bill is fifty plus tax, so the tip is quite generous.
I run his credit card and hand him the receipt to sign along with a pen. He scribbles his signature and adds an extra ten-dollar tip onto the credit card receipt.
I take another sip of the bourbon and grimace.
Jayden notices the expression on my face because he smiles and laughs. “You get used to it.”
“I don’t think I ever could,” I say.
I’m expecting him to get up and leave, but he still has quite a bit of bourbon remaining in his glass. He swirls it around and takes a sip.
“You’re new, I haven’t seen you here before,” Jayden says, watching me closely.
“You ask a lot of questions.”
He offers a wayward smile. “It wasn’t a question. Just making an observation.”