Chapter 11
Riley
“You’re a real jack of all trades, aren’t ya?” Bobby asks me the next morning in his office.
“Yes, sir. I wouldn’t say I’ve done it all, but I’ve done my fair share.”
He scans the papers I’ve given him once more. “You’ve certainly got lots of experience in the service industry. Waiting tables, tending bar … club promotion?” He raises an eyebrow and I shrug.
“It paid the bills for a while. Wasn’t really my thing, though.”
He grunts in acknowledgment. “Even done some cooking, I see.”
“Uh-huh. I’ve done the short-order thing a time or two. Greasy spoon stuff, you know?”
He nods. “Says here you managed a diner in Albuquerque.”
“Yes, sir.”
His face scrunches up in annoyance, and he waves a hand at me.
“Enough of this ‘sir’ crap.”
I chuckle.
“Bobby.”
“Bobby,” I acknowledge, my shoulders relaxing.
He nods, then leans back in his seat, dropping my resume onto the desk between us. “Here’s the truth of it, Riley. I’m looking to scale back on my time here. Hopefully, do some more fishing.” He pauses. “You like ice fishing?”
“Never done it.”
“Huh. Seems to me your daddy used to like it. He and Jack Hudson used to go out around Brechin Cove. Guess you were too young …” he trails off, his eyes going distant.
Then he shakes his head and continues, “Anyway, the long and short of it is, this place isn’t where I want to be spending all my time anymore.
See, I opened it a little over a decade ago with my Ellie—it had been our dream.
But I lost her three years back, and it just ain’t the same doin’ it without her.
“And, well, much as I like to avoid thinkin’ ‘bout it, the fact remains I’m gettin’ older. I’m tired, kid. Wanna spend more of the time I have left doing the things I enjoy. Ellie would want that for me.”
“I understand,” I say, and he holds up a hand.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not looking to retire quite yet, but I do want someone to share the load with me like Ellie used to do.
” I nod, while he studies me. “So here’s what I’m proposin’: you start bartending a few nights a week and also shadowin’ me here in the office a coupla days.
We’ll feel this thing out with the goal of making you my assistant manager.
And then, maybe eventually, you take over running things. ”
“That would be … amazing,” I say, stunned. I came in here prepared to take whatever Bobby was willing to give me. But … this? This has long-term potential and would go a long way towards helping me establish roots. Shit, I’m afraid to get excited.
“Full disclosure, I first offered the position to Lola. She works the bar most evenings, you mighta seen her last night …”
I nod again. I’d noticed the tall brunette behind the bar.
“But,” he runs a hand over his thinning hair, “she doesn’t want the responsibility.
Says she likes showin’ up for her shift, flirtin’ up the regulars, and then checkin’ out.
” He chuckles. “Lord knows I can’t blame her.
Would be nice ta be able to shut off your mind at the end of the day.
Anyway, I know you haven’t managed a place this large before, one that serves both food and liquor, but your experience tells me you’re a quick learner and adaptable.
I think you’re a capable guy an’ you might just be a pretty good fit.
” He gives a single firm nod, as though to emphasize his statement.
I feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Is this a done deal?
Do I … thank him now?
Shake his hand?
I’m about ready to do just that when he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “Now,” he says, narrowing his eyes on me. “Gimme the truth of it. You got some shady past I need ta know about?”
And there’s that shoe.
I suck in a deep, bracing lungful of air, then blow it out in a long, slow, resigned breath.
I’d been expecting this question based on our conversation last night, but things had been going so well up until this point I guess I’d hoped Bobby might let me off the hook.
Steeling myself with another deep breath, I look him straight in the eye and admit, “I spent some time in prison.”
He grunts as if to say, ‘Go on.’
“For dealing,” I continue. “Got mixed up with it in college. That probably also answers any basketball-related questions you might have,” I add with a cynical half-smile.
“I fell into it due to pressures I was ill-equipped to handle at the time, and for a while, it was the escape I thought I needed.
It escalated quickly into a multitude of substances, and my reliance on them eventually led to dealing. It got out of control.
“But I detoxed in prison, and I’ve stayed clean ever since. No relapses and no temptation.” I run a hand nervously through my hair, then add, “No problems with alcohol, either,” thinking of the concern my mom had raised a few weeks ago.
Bobby stares at me, his mouth twisted up in thought, and I hold my breath for the inevitable letdown.
I’ve been here many times before … the moment when an amazing opportunity goes straight down the toilet because of my past. Sure, I’ve had a long and varied employment history, but many of those jobs were taken because they didn’t ask too many questions, or they just didn’t care.
It’s not often I’ve had an opportunity like this one, with some real responsibility and a chance for upward mobility.
Finally, Bobby nods. “Figured it was something like that.”
So …” I start hesitantly. “Does that change your opinion of me?” I clear my throat. “Are you rescinding the offer?”
He grunts again, then shrugs. “Nope. Far as I’m concerned, a man’s entitled to a second chance.
” Another shrug. “People make mistakes. God knows I’ve made my share, but my Ellie always forgave me.
Never let me feel like less than ‘cause of it. The love of a good woman’ll do that for ya. You got a woman, Riley?”
I sigh. “No, sir, but I’m looking to change that.”
He waves a hand at me. “What’d I say about this sir business? I don’t stand on formality. You’ll figure that out right quick if we’re gonna be workin’ together.”
I huff out a laugh, rubbing a hand over my jaw.
“Alright,” I agree, nodding. Then decide to elaborate on my previous statement.
“The truth is, I had a good woman, but I messed it up a long time ago. I’m back in town to make amends with a lot of people I hurt in the past. She’s one of them.
” I press my lips together, feeling determined.
“It’s a long shot, but I have to take it. ”
Bobby grins his approval. “Damn right ya do.” Then he reaches across the desk and slaps me on the shoulder. “Good luck, kid.”
I’m leaving Aroma’s a short while later, rounding the rear of the building towards my truck parked in the back lot, when I hear what sounds like a low growl.
Freezing, I glance around, searching for the source of the noise.
I don’t immediately see anything, but then I hear it again coming from the direction of the dumpster.
Moving into the shadow of the building, I spot a scruffy little black and white dog crouched by a collection of food scraps next to the bin.
The dog is most definitely a mutt, but it looks to have some terrier in it.
“Hey there, little guy,” I murmur, glancing around again to see if this guy has an owner nearby.
Judging by the state of him—or her—it’s doubtful.
The poor thing is filthy, the white of his fur near-gray with grime, and quite scrawny looking.
No collar that I can see, either. It drops its body low to the ground at my approach and lets out another warning noise, lips lifting in a surprisingly intimidating snarl for something so small.
“Whoa, there,” I say quietly, crouching to appear less threatening.
I’ve always loved dogs. It’s something Steph and I used to talk about, how we’d adopt one someday.
Back in high school, she’d volunteered at the animal shelter and would often drive us both crazy, telling me about all the sweet little creatures who needed homes.
We wished we were in a position to do it then, and I’ve thought about it a time or two since, but with the amount of moving around I did, it never made much sense or seemed like it would be fair to an animal.
Things are different, now, though. I’m well on my way to some real stability for the first time in years.
I take another cautious step towards the tiny creature. It bares its teeth at me once more, but refrains from growling this time.
Progress?
The dog’s little body is quivering, whether with fear or anger, I’m not sure.
Slowly, I drop to my knees, fishing around in my pocket for the granola bar my mother had tossed in my direction as I’d hurried out of the house this morning.
I’d teased her about babying me, reminding her I was capable of getting my own breakfast—and had intended to stop at The Bean for something before heading over here for my meeting.
She’d just smirked at me and replied that she was ‘making up for lost time.’ I’m thankful for it now as I unwrap the bar and extend it carefully towards the dog.
I make a point of averting my gaze, doing my best to transmit an unthreatening air as I wait for it to approach.
A full minute goes by while the dog watches me suspiciously.
I peek at it out of the corner of my eye, watching it repeatedly sniff the air, the granola bar no doubt beyond enticing to this poor, starving baby.
Eventually, it takes a tentative step. Then another, warily creeping closer.
I hold my body stiffly, afraid to make any sudden movements as the little dog finally approaches.
It noses at the bar, shoving my hand a little to see how I’ll react.
When I continue to avoid eye contact, with the bar still extended, it lunges, snatching it from my hand and then backing away again.