4. Kiley
CHAPTER FOUR
KILEY
Istifle another yawn, the second one within the hour while I work on employee scheduling for the bar.
With school starting back up, my body is having a hard time adjusting to working both jobs, even if I’m only at the bar three days a week.
The last couple of weeks have been chaotic, but so far, I love my new students, and Zander is really enjoying kindergarten.
Not to my surprise, he managed to wrap his new teacher around his cute little finger by the third day of school.
I wish things at the bar were going as smoothly as school was.
After our emergency family meeting, my dad decided we needed a private room to host events.
While I wasn’t opposed to the idea, I didn’t feel it was something we urgently needed.
He thought otherwise, and when I walked into the bar the following week, it was impossible not to notice the brand-new wall constructed where four three-quarter-circle booths used to be.
It’s been a little disorderly keeping up with work on this new room around the bar’s schedule, but with Keegan designing and building it every chance he gets, the job should be completed any day now.
Our usual customers didn’t seem to be bothered by the construction, but what they have complained about is us taking away the food menu.
So many people are upset with us not serving food that I have a sneaky suspicion my father is going to bring it back.
He’s seen the expense sheets; he knows how costly food is, but he can’t handle unhappy customers.
He takes their complaints personally, so I’m really hoping this new event space can generate additional revenue, especially if we have to add food back to the menu.
After a couple more minutes of plugging in time-off requests, I sigh with relief when I finalize the schedule for the month of October.
Even though this is still September, I try to get schedules done early so everyone is on the same page.
This gives us time to analyze if we’ll need additional staff during anticipated peak hours and make the necessary adjustments.
My phone buzzes with an incoming text. It’s from one of our bartenders letting me know that my dad has opened the doors fifteen minutes early and is asking if I’ll bring the clean glasses in from the kitchen.
“Of course he did,” I mutter, wishing my dad would not act so impulsively. If he sees any customers casually waiting outside for the bar to open, he immediately lets them in no matter what condition the bar is in. We’ve asked him in the past to stop, but he never listens.
I walk out of the office to the kitchen and grab the clean glass rack that was waiting to be unloaded.
I use my backside to push open the swinging door that leads from the kitchen to the back of the bar.
Colby, our lead bartender for the night, gives me a grateful smile.
He grabs the rack from me, and together we unload the glasses to have them ready for tonight.
I’m stacking the glasses upside down in the underbar on the drainboards when I hear my dad say, “Jaxy, my boy. You’re back!” I immediately look up and see my father hugging Jax Morrow, left winger and one of the assistant captains for the Chicago Phoenixes hockey team.
Or as I like to call him—Manwhore Morrow.
“Good to see you, Killian. I’ve missed you,” Jax tells my dad, his words spiking my annoyance. Why would a millionaire hockey player miss my dad?
“Ugh,” I mutter, wishing I wasn’t witnessing my dad act like he’s seeing a long-lost son.
Colby follows my line of vision and chuckles. “Not a fan of Jax?”
“Not particularly,” I respond, hurrying to finish putting these glasses away so I can go hide in the office.
“I’m shocked. Most women swoon over him.”
I scoff. “Yeah, well, not this woman.” Sure, Jax is extremely good looking and when he first started coming into the bar, I would get nervous around him.
There’s no denying he’s hot, but he doused out any fire he ever lit for me when he would come in here, get roaring drunk and then sleep with half the women who walked into this bar.
He laughs. “Why don’t you like him? He’s always been a really nice guy to me and the rest of the staff.”
Explaining to Colby why I don’t like Jax is pointless since he is also single and always ready to mingle with the ladies. “Glad to hear he’s been nice to all of you.”
Out of all the athletes who come into our bar, Jax Morrow is my least favorite. Not only do I hate how he uses women, but I also feel he takes advantage of my dad’s generosity of supplying the players with free drinks just so they keep coming back.
“Do you mind if I go over and say hi to him real quick?” Colby asks, and it takes everything in me not to roll my eyes.
“Sure, go for it,” I tell him. He puts the glass he was holding away before he walks out from behind the bar to where they’re chatting.
Colby joins Jax and my dad, who is showing Jax the new room. “Look here, Jax. We built this room so you and the lads can have your own safe space when you come to the bar after a game.”
I narrow my eyes and tilt my head. Did I just hear my dad correctly? That is not the reason he told us we needed a private room. “Only if it isn’t occupied by a private event,” I yell out. All three men look over at me, and I give my Dad a sweet as molasses you-better-not-argue-with-me smile.
“Uh, right. Yes, of course,” my dad stutters. “But we will always try to save it for you guys after every home game.”
Jax looks between us and smirks. “Hello, Kiley.”
I nod in acknowledgment. “Mr. Morrow,” I respond and continue unloading the glasses.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him approaching the bar and I inwardly groan. He pulls out one of the bar stools right in front of me and sits down with a mischievous grin plastered on his face. He knows I don’t like him and uses any opportunity he can to bait me.
“Is there a way I can reserve this room for September 23rd?”
“Why?” I give him a suspicious look.
“It’s Kinner’s birthday, and I wanted to throw him a party.” I give him a blank stare, not knowing who the hell Kinner is. “Oh sorry,” he chuckles. “Kinner is Rory Kincade’s nickname.” When I still don’t respond to him, he gives me a sheepish grin. “Rory is one of our defensemen.”
I scoff. “I know who Rory is, just not his nickname.”
He holds up his hands in defense. “Sorry, you just showed no emotion when I said his name.”
I give him an incredulous look. “What kind of emotions am I supposed to show? You’ll never see me fan-girling over any of you.”
He chuckles. “Never expect you would. So, is the room available that day?”
We haven’t booked our first event yet, so there’s no reason for me to look at a calendar. “Yes, it is, but you have to pay a booking fee for all food and beverages you consume.”
He gives me a weird look. “Of course. I was planning on paying for everything.”
“Well, then it’s settled!” My dad interjects. “The room is yours. Kiley, get Jax a Guinness,” he commands and turns his attention back to Jax while he takes a seat next to him. “Tell us how your summer was.”
I scowl at my dad, not wanting to get that man anything. I glance at Jax, and he is biting his lip, fighting the urge to laugh.
“Please don’t spit in my drink, Kiley,” Jax teases while I pull a pint for him. Now it’s my turn to give him an evil smirk because that’s exactly what I was wishing I could do.
My dad looks at Jax, horrified. “Kiley would never do that!”
I slam the glass down in front of Jax, deliberately spilling a little Guinness on his hand. “Depends on how mad you make me.”
“Kiley!” My dad’s incredulous expression at my sass elicits a giggle out of me. I toss a napkin at Jax as a compromise. He chuckles and proceeds to wipe his hand.
“To answer your original question, Killian, my summer was great.” Jax takes a sip of beer before proceeding. “My daughter and I went on our annual daddy/daughter trip, and this time we went to Hawaii and Japan.”
“I’ve always wanted to go to Japan,” Colby chimes in while I wipe down the bar’s countertop.
“You should—it’s beautiful.”
“When are you going to Ireland?” My dad asks him. “I’m ready to give you a full itinerary of everything you need to see.”
“I’ll go when you can be my personal tour guide.”
“Guess you’re never going then,” I sarcastically answer. “Dad never takes a vacation.”
Jax looks at him in surprise. “Is that true?”
“Aye, I don’t have the time.” My dad waves his hand nonchalantly. “Moving to America with the woman of my dreams has been enough of a vacation.”
“Speaking about Mrs. O’Shea, I’ve been missing that delicious Shepherd’s Pie of hers.” Jax looks at me with a smile. “Can I please get some?”
“We don’t serve food anymore,” I answer at the same time my father says, “Absolutely, coming right up.”
I give my father a death glare before glancing at Jax, who is not hiding his confusion.
“We don’t serve food anymore, remember Dad?” I give my father a stern look even though he’s refusing to look at me.
“We’ve got some pie in the fridge. I’ll get it for you, Jax, no worries, no problem.” Before I can say a word, my dad shuffles back into the kitchen.
“Excuse me for one moment,” I tell Jax and follow my dad into the kitchen.
I barge through the door and place my hands on my hips. “What are you doing? We agreed on no more food.”
He shrugs. “Well, your mom made some.”
I look at the huge catering tray of food.
“I find it really odd that Mom just randomly made a family sized tray of Shepherd’s Pie.
” He refuses to look at me and continues to cut out a slice with a spatula and put it on a plate.
“She made this without you asking?” I know the truth, but I want to hear him admit it.
“Of course I asked her!” He confirms in exasperation. “I don’t want people drinking on empty stomachs.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and silently count to ten while he heats the plate of food. Sometimes I don’t know who is worse when it comes to not listening—my fifty-nine-year-old father or my five-year-old son.
“Dad,” I start in a calm, cool, and somewhat collected tone. “We’ve got to start setting the expectations now that we’re only serving snacks and drinks.”
“We can have Shepherd’s Pie on the menu. Your mother loves making it.”
“We’ve already had new menus printed, Dad,” I respond through gritted teeth.
“Jax is one of our best customers. If the man wants Shepherd’s Pie, then that’s what we give him!” He grabs the food and slams the microwave shut, signifying the end of this discussion.
I watch him walk out of the kitchen and sigh. I know my father is having a hard time accepting all the changes we need to make. I’m trying to give him grace, but sometimes his stubbornness raises my blood pressure.
I snag a napkin along with silverware and follow him out.
He puts the plate in front of Jax and excuses himself while he goes to greet one of our regular customers, Arnie, who just arrived.
I place the utensils next to Jax’s plate, and I can feel his inquisitive gaze.
I give him a tight smile and turn to leave, but his question stops me.
“What’s going on, Kiley?” Jax asks, and I’m a little taken aback by the genuine concern in his eyes.
“We’re not supposed to be serving food anymore, but like always, whatever Jax Morrow wants, Jax Morrow gets.” I try to tone down my bitterness towards him but fail.
He frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean? I never ask for any kind of special treatment.”
“You might not verbally ask for it, but you sure walk around here expecting it.” Oh gosh, here I go. Once my temper takes off, I can’t stop. I need to shut my mouth and not talk.
Now he looks even more perplexed and, dare I say, insulted. “What in the hell are you talking about?”
I huff and throw my hands up in the air. “For some reason, my dad loves you, so you’re getting special treatment and food we aren’t even supposed to be serving.” I know I’m acting unreasonable. My father fawning all over him is not Jax’s fault, and my reaction towards it is my problem, not his.
He stares at me for a minute. “I’m going to ask you once again, and I really hope you answer me honestly: Why aren’t you guys supposed to be serving food anymore?”
I sigh, suddenly feeling exhausted and way older than my thirty years of age.
“If you must know, we were hit with a huge property tax bill and have to find ways to cut costs in order to save our bar.” My dad is going to be furious with me for telling Jax our personal business, but I’m too tired to care at this point.
I don’t believe in pretending everything is fine when it isn’t. I also don’t believe in lying.
“Save your bar?” Jax repeats in disbelief. “It’s that bad?”
I see Colby walking toward us, and I don’t want to talk about this in front of him. Our employees know about the increased tax bill, but they don’t know the full severity of the situation yet. “Yup, it’s that bad, so maybe you should start finding yourself another Irish pub to mooch off of.”
I turn on my heel and head toward the office. I need a mommy timeout because even I know I’ve gone too far, and my anger toward Jax right now is unjustified. I hear him calling my name before the swinging door shuts behind me. I know I should apologize, but I’m too far gone in my emotions.
I jog to the office, slam the door and lock it. I walk behind the desk, sit down and slump over it, burying my head into my arms while I ugly-cry out all the stress that has been plaguing me over the last couple of months.