Chapter Eight
Hazel
My phone started ringing just as I managed to get the lid off a can of paint. “Of course.”
I’d been carrying the damn thing around with me all morning because I’d put in enough job applications over the last two days that I didn’t want to miss a call. The one time I left it in another room, someone called.
I set the screwdriver I’d used to pry the lid off on the floor and hurried through the living room. The kitchen was slowly becoming my favorite room in the house, and it was slowly starting to look like mine.
There was food in the refrigerator now. My coffee maker was on the counter, and my bright red toaster had taken its place of honor.
My phone was vibrating across the kitchen table when I grabbed it.
A local number and I immediately straightened. Only four places had my number.
“Hello?”
“Is this Hazel?”
“It is.”
“Hey, Hazel. This is CL from Bing’s.”
I smiled. Well, damn. “Hey.”
“You got a minute?”
“I’ve got several.”
He chuckled. “Good. I wanted to give you a call before I got tied up over here. I talked to the owner this morning, and we’d like to bring you on.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“That’s great.”
Relief hit me harder than I’d expected.
I hadn’t been panicking yet.
I’d had money.
Not a lot, but enough that I wasn’t going to be eating crackers and ketchup packets by the end of the week. Still, watching money go out without any coming in wasn’t exactly relaxing.
A job fixed that.
“We need someone behind the bar who can pick up serving shifts when we’re short,” CL continued. “You said you’ve done both?”
“Years of both.”
“Good. That’s what we need.”
“Then I’m your girl.”
“When can you start?”
I glanced around my kitchen as if the answer might be written on one of the walls. “When do you need me?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow works.”
“Four o’clock?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Great. Come in fifteen minutes early so we can get your paperwork squared away.”
“Will do.”
“We’ll see you tomorrow, Hazel.”
“Thanks, CL.”
I ended the call and stared at my phone. Then I lifted both arms into the air. “Yes!” My voice echoed through the kitchen.
I laughed and dropped my arms.
One more thing checked off the list.
House.
Utilities.
Groceries.
Job.
I was practically a functioning Wisconsin resident.
I set my phone on the table and headed back toward the living room. I’d made it three steps when I changed direction.
Pink.
She’d probably want to know. Actually, knowing Pink, she’d be offended if I waited longer than five minutes to tell her.
I slipped my feet into the sandals by the back door and stepped outside.
Then stopped.
I had on a pair of old black shorts and a tank top I’d owned since approximately the beginning of time. My hair was clipped on top of my head, and I had a streak of pale green paint on my forearm from testing three different colors on the living room wall.
I looked down at myself. “Good enough.” It was just Pink. She’d seen me worse.
I headed across the yard and I hadn’t even made it halfway when her back door opened.
Pink stepped out holding a glass of iced tea. “Where are you going?”
“Your house.”
“Why?”
“Maybe I just wanted to see you.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re weird.”
“So are you.”
“True.”
She walked down the steps. “What happened?”
“Why does something have to have happened?”
“Because you’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“Like you’re about to tell me something.”
I planted my hands on my hips. “I got a job.”
Pink’s face lit up. “You did!”
“I did.”
She set her glass down on the patio table and hugged me. I laughed and hugged her back. “Look at you!” she said as she released me. “You’ve been here less than a week.”
“I have bills.”
“Nothing like electricity to motivate a woman.”
“Exactly.”
“Where?”
“Bing’s.”
Pink’s smile changed. Barely, but I caught it. “Oh.”
I pointed at her. “That.”
“What?”
“That face.”
“I didn’t make a face.”
“You absolutely made a face.”
“I said oh.”
“You said it with a face.”
Pink picked up her iced tea. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Why does everyone do that when I mention Bing’s?”
She stopped with the glass halfway to her mouth. “Everyone?”
Shit. I should’ve known she’d catch that.
Pink slowly lowered her glass. “Who else made a face?”
“Nobody.”
“Hazel.”
“It wasn’t important.”
“Who?”
I sighed. “Bone.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Bone?”
There was way too much interest packed into one word.
I immediately regretted saying anything. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Whatever you’re about to do.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’ve got a look.”
Pink pressed her lips together. “Where did you talk to Bone?”
“Bing’s.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
Her eyebrows climbed even higher. “Bone was at Bing’s?”
“No.”
Pink stared at me.
I stared back.
“Then how did you talk to him at Bing’s?”
“He was riding by.”
“And he stopped?”
“Technically, he turned around.”
Pink blinked. Why did that sound more significant when I said it out loud? “He turned around?”
“Yes.”
“For you?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t conduct an investigation.”
“What did he want?”
“I don’t know.”
Pink was looking at me like I’d just handed her the first clue in a murder mystery.
I pointed at her. “Stop.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re doing a lot without saying a word.”
She smiled.
I groaned.
“He saw me coming out of Bing’s, turned around, and pulled into the parking lot.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Don’t ‘uh-huh’ me.”
“I said two syllables.”
“They were loaded syllables.”
Pink laughed.
“He blocked my car in,” I added.
That stopped her laughter. “He did what?”
“With his motorcycle. Not like he was holding me hostage.”
Pink’s smile came back. Bigger. “Oh.”
“There’s that face again.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked what I was doing there.”
“And?”
“I told him I was looking for a job.”
“And?”
“He told me Bing’s can get rough.”
Pink nodded. “It can.”
“Apparently, everybody in Marshfield thinks I can’t handle a bar.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Bone seemed to.”
Pink’s eyebrows pulled together. “Did he tell you not to work there?”
“No.”
“Did he tell you to stay away from it?”
“No.”
“Then Bone wasn’t telling you that you couldn’t handle it.”
I crossed my arms. “What was he doing?”
“Looking out for you.”
I laughed. “He doesn’t know me.”
“Exactly.”
There was something in the way she said it.
I narrowed my eyes.
Pink sipped her tea.
“No.”
She lowered the glass. “What?”
“You’re matchmaking.”
“I am absolutely not.”
“Good.”
“But—”
“No ‘but,’” I insisted.
She laughed. “I’m just saying Bone doesn’t normally turn his motorcycle around to check where random women are applying for jobs.”
“Maybe he’s extremely invested in the local hospitality industry.”
Pink almost choked on her tea.
I grinned. “Did you ever think of that?”
“No. Shockingly, I didn’t.”
“Well, there you go.”
She shook her head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And employed.”
“At Bing’s.”
I sighed. “We’re back to that?”
“It’s not a bad place.”
“But?”
“No ‘but.’”
“Bone said the crowd gets rough.”
“It can.”
“So he was right.”
She wagged her finger at me. “Don’t ever tell him that. It’ll go straight to his head.”
I laughed. “Noted.”
Pink leaned against the patio table. “How much bartending experience do you have?”
“A lot.”
“Then you’ll be fine.”
“That’s what I said.”
“You know how to handle drunk assholes?”
“I spent four years working at a sports bar across from a college campus.”
Pink nodded solemnly. “My condolences.”
“Thank you. It was a difficult time.”
She laughed.
“I can handle Bing’s.”
“I believe you.”
“And if I hate it, I’ll quit.”
“Exactly.”
That was one of the things I was determined to do differently here.
I wasn’t going to get stuck. Not in a job. Not in a routine. Not in anything just because it was easier to stay than leave.
I’d already proven I could pack up my life and move to another state. Quitting a shitty bartending job wasn’t going to scare me.
“Tomorrow at four,” I told her.
“Look at you.”
“I know.”
“First Wisconsin job.”
“First and hopefully last for a while.”
“That’s less adventurous.”
“I need money more than adventure.”
Pink lifted her glass toward me. “Fair.”
I looked back toward my house. The open front window gave me a perfect view of the living room wall I’d been working on. “I should probably get back to painting.”
“What color?”
“Green.”
Pink made a face.
“Not ugly green.”
“That’s subjective.”
“Show me.”
“You can see it when I’m done.”
“Why?”
“Because if you hate it, you’ll spend the next three hours trying to convince me to change it.”
“I would never.”
“You absolutely would.”
“Fine.” She sighed dramatically. “I’ll wait.”
I started backing toward my yard. “Thank you.”
“Hazel?”
“What?”
Pink smiled. “I’m happy you’re here.”
That caught me off guard.
My smile softened. “I’m happy I’m here too.”
And I meant it.
I turned toward my house, but Pink called, “Wait.”
I glanced back.
Pink was still watching me.
“What now?”
“Did Bone say anything else?”
I groaned. “Oh my God.”
“I’m curious!”
“Nothing important.”
“Did he flirt with you?”
“I’m leaving.”
“Hazel!”
I kept walking.
“He did, didn’t he?”
I lifted my hand over my head and flipped her off. Pink’s laughter followed me across the yard. I was smiling when I reached my back door.
Bone had flirted with me. A little.
I’d flirted back. Also a little.
That didn’t mean anything.
He was attractive. I was single. We’d crossed paths. End of story.
Except the memory of him sitting on that motorcycle, cigarette between his fingers and that little grin on his face, popped into my head again.
Seeing you was a bonus.
I opened the door and let it bang shut behind me.
I had a house to paint.
And tomorrow, I had my first shift at Bing’s.
Bone could stay exactly where he belonged.
Somewhere down the road.