Chapter 16 #2
Daniel knocked on the door, the thick feel of the wood familiar against his skin.
He’d been in the outdated office Jensen would no doubt love at least once a week since he started at the Lillian.
At first it was just to get his schedule and check in with Lucinda.
She liked to know about how business was going.
Liked to know if they were getting pushed around or if they were sitting on their thumbs, bored, too often.
Daniel had no idea what it took to run the operation or how she advertised or really anything outside the hotel rooms. But they’d always had a steady flow of customers and no police raids, so he imagined she knew what she was doing.
After he’d started getting comfortable around his boss, he would drop in just to hang out before his shifts began.
Sometimes they wouldn’t talk at all, nary a grunt exchanged between them.
Other times, Daniel would sit in the plush floral-patterned chairs and talk about movies and shows over a spread of food on the hardy antique desk that acted as a barrier in the middle of the room.
If he had a particularly difficult client, he would take refuge in the cramped office and pilfer the carved wood bar cart while ranting to his boss.
This wouldn’t be the first time he strode into the office with the goal of getting more hours.
Wouldn’t even be the first time in the last six months.
It seemed like he was always offering to do more, and she was always promising she would see what she could do.
This time would be different though. He’d plead his case and not take no for an answer.
His life was on the line here, and his bank account was already suffering from all the shifts at the bar he’d taken over the past month.
His boss must have recognized the determined expression on his face as he strode in because she barely glanced at him before holding up a finger.
His momentum crashed at the gesture; no one could rush Lucinda, and if he tried, he would fail at getting what he wanted.
Letting go of the breath that was puffing out his chest, he rested an arm on the tall back of a chair and waited.
His next breath was calmer and filled with the scent of his boss’s signature perfume, something not quite floral or abrasive but not not floral and abrasive.
“How much do you make a year?” Lucinda asked after a minute of silence, not looking up from her paperwork.
Daniel scratched behind his ear and tried keeping the confusion out of his voice. “Before or after the house fee is taken out?”
“I can’t find an adequate bartender,” she said, ignoring his question. Clasping her hands on the top of the desk, she pinned him with a hard stare. “Would you switch places for twenty-three an hour base?”
His shoulders sagged, and he fell into the plush chair in front of her desk. “My student loan payments are almost two grand a month, and rent is another seven-fifty, not including utilities. That wouldn’t leave me enough for other living expenses.” Not to mention his credit card payments.
Her brows furrowed. “You went to college?”
Looking at the ugly-ass painting that hung on the wall above the bar cart, he sank further into the chair. “I didn’t finish.”
“What did you major in?”
“Finance, computer science, marketing”—he ticked them off on his fingers—“half a semester of business law, and finally business administration.”
“We offer student loan repayment assistance. It’s available whether or not you got a degree.”
“What the fuck kind of brothel are you running?”
She laughed and clicked her pen a few times before setting it back down. “I’m running a brothel that does its best to keep the government out of our business. And the owners like to launder their money through charitable causes.”
“Charitable criminals. What has this world come to.”
“I don’t look gift horses in their mouths, and I suggest you don’t either. If I can get a good portion of your student loans paid each month, would you stay behind the bar?”
“Luc, I need more hours. A lot more hours. I’m willing to check into the hotel and provide for anyone that comes in the doors. I’ll do anything for more cash.”
She frowned. “Anything except work behind the bar?”
“I can’t afford to bartend,” he said, throwing his hands up in the air. It was like she wasn’t even listening to him. “I need way more cash than I can get pouring wine and handing off shots to people who intend to spend all their money on getting laid.”
Her eyebrows rose on her forehead, and she let the intensity in the air kick up for a few moments before opening her mouth. “You know what your problem is, Daniel?”
“Crippling amounts of debt, dry skin, and shallow nail beds?” he asked flippantly.
“Don’t be a smart-ass with those that employ you.” Lucinda pointed an accusing finger at him, then put her elbows on the desk and leaned forward. “You don’t accept help when you need it. Did you know Melanie pays for her sister’s cancer treatments?”
Daniel’s mouth hung open. He had no idea, and he’d worked with Melanie for years. They’d talked almost nightly, and she’d never once mentioned it. Not that he’d said anything about his own life either.
“Clarke is halfway through law school. Ricardo paid off the loans for his grandmother’s land and sends money to relatives each month.”
“What does this have to do with me?”
“Everyone here comes to me when they run into hard times. Everyone except you. I told you to talk to me and we’d figure something out while you worked at the bar. But you didn’t, did you? Now you’re in my office yet again expecting me to allow you to work nonstop.”
Heat licked up his chest, and it took effort to keep himself from squirming in his seat at Lucinda’s obvious disapproval.
“And what would you have done? What could anyone really do to help? Unless you have a fucking time machine or a few hundred thousand in cash you’re willing to give out, there’s nothing you can do to help,” he threw back at her.
Lucinda narrowed her eyes. “Don’t forget who you are talking to, child. Lucky for you, the nuns raised me right. I’m going to give you grace and help, even when you refuse to ask for it. You listening?”
Daniel’s heart pounded in his aching chest. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m not going to see you in my establishment for the rest of the weekend.
On Monday, you’re going to work behind the bar with a good attitude.
You will never again run out of here after servicing a client, then disappear for days without talking to me.
And when you need help, you’re going to come ask me for it nicely.
You’re not going to make yourself miserable by fucking every man in the city just for some cash. You’re better than that. Understood?”
He nodded, not sure what else to do.
“Good. Now say thank you and get the fuck out of my sight.”