Slamming my bag on the dingy counter, I couldn’t help but return the nasty ass glare that my boss was giving me from across the bar. I was sweating from exertion and mad as a stuck pig. I didn't need any of his crap today.
“Sutton.” The way he said my name was akin to ‘hey dog poop’ or ‘shit head.'
“Gabriel.”
My reply wasn’t any friendlier. In fact, I would happily say that with my added frostiness, I was twice as snarky. Of course, nobody gave a rat’s ass what I had to say, least of all Gabriel. He was continually riding my ass, and I could swear that there was a glint of smugness in his cold eyes as he stared me down.
“You are late—again. I told you the next time you came in here late I would be taking it off your wages.”
I hated the stupid son of a bitch, but I needed the money that this job provided. It was the only reason I condescended to work for the asshole in the first place. Lord knew I hadn't sought him out on my own. I didn’t have a death wish.
“It’s three minutes after the hour,” my tone was incredulous. “What are you going to deduct, fifteen cents?”
Okay, so I hadn’t done the math; but minimum wage only got you so far. Obviously I was betting that my estimate was on the money. He didn't pay me shit, and we both knew it. His jaw tightened as he ground his perfectly straight teeth together.
Running a tanned hand through his messy dark hair he glared at me. If anyone had ever called me on it, I would deny it until the day I died. But for a brief moment, I was distracted by the sheer beauty of Gabriel Reece.
That was until he opened his mouth and ruined it again.
There had been a time when we were younger when I had been sweet on the bastard. That lasted about forty seven seconds—and then I got to know him. I resolved then and there that I would rather kiss fat Larry than crush on the real Gabriel Reece.
“Sutton, we pay you to be here at three, not three minutes after three. This isn’t a difficult concept, so even you should understand it. If you are unable to be on time for your shift, kindly find somewhere else to work.”
Oh, I bet he would love that. But there weren’t that many jobs in Otterville Falls. Especially places that would allow a girl whose mama had been the town bicycle to work with the public. Granted this was a seedy bar. Most nights of our clientele were angry truckers, cheating husbands, and a local MC club. During the day we had some of the town's regulars stop by for lunch, but they cleared out before the rift-raff arrived to get their drunk on.
Beggars can’t be choosers, and I was on the begging end of the totem pole. I didn't want to lose my job, not really. I was going to have to apologize.
Shit, maybe I could just cut my tongue out instead?
The image left me grimacing.
Gabriel pulled himself up to his full height, a few inches above six feet. He had fighters body, with large muscles that bulged out in all the right places. I hated that my eyes tended to get sidetracked by his sheer animal magnetism. I did not want to be thrown in as one of his groupies.
He was the enemy, and my heart would never forget it.
“Eyes up here Sweetheart.” The cocky bastard thought he had the upper hand. It was too bad that I was immune to stupid—and he had stupid written all over him.
What had I been about to do? Apologize? Not a snowball's chance in hell would make the words—I’m sorry—come out of my mouth.
“I will try not to be late—again,” I bit off. That was good enough—right? I said it in a somewhat heartfelt manner.
Okay, that was flat out lying. I had bit the words off with all of the hate that I had for Gabriel, and he knew it.
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever, you have two tables waiting for their orders to be taken. Oh, and Mad Max is still waiting for his drink.”
“Why didn’t you say so instead of tearing up at me?” I scurried off to throw my things in the back. Mad Max was a friend of mine and always left me a good tip.
Taking an elastic, I wound my long dark hair into a messy bun and secured it the best I could before wrapping my worn-out apron around my waist. The letters had begun to fade from years of use. Instead of saying Abberly's, it said “Abb-y.”
Maybe that should have been my sign that I needed to move on. I had worked as a waitress at the bar from the night I turned twenty-one until now. However, before that, I had loaded boxes of beer and alcohol in and out of the joint since high school.
Thankfully Gabe hadn’t always been the owner. His momma, God rest her soul, had always been good to me. Ruth Ann treated me like gold. Which was saying something in this town; where I not only came from the wrong side of the tracks, but the wrong side of the blanket. Shit, like that, just didn’t happen every day—trust me.
It was pretty typical for me to be ignored, brushed aside, and altogether forgotten. Ruth Ann passed last year; I think I took it harder than Gabe did. She had been involved in a car accident out on I70. I can still remember Gabe’s face when the police came to the bar to tell him.
He looked like a statue. The office tried to assure him that she hadn’t suffered. But I don’t think he heard a thing past your momma died tonight.
It was as if he had turned to granite. I swear I hadn't even known he owned a heart until that day. I never saw it again after.
Ever since then he had been even more of a dickhead than usual—and trust me, his dickhead status did not need improving upon.
I felt sorry for him at first. Sure, I do have some measure of feeling inside of me. I am fairly confident that there is a beating heart somewhere behind these boobs of mine, once you dust it off and give it a spit shine it isn’t half bad.
Hell, I almost killed myself trying to make things easier right after Ruth Ann passed. What did I get for my efforts? A surly reminder that I was nothing in this town. He murdered any tender feelings of mercy that I might have harbored.
“Get your ass out there, Sutton!” he bellowed, yanking me out of the past.
I snatched up my notepad and raced to the bar grabbing the tray of drinks for Mad Max.
I nearly dropped them all in his lap when I tripped over my own shoelace. Thankfully, Max was swift enough to catch the tray. His drinks were saved with minimal sloshing.
“Sorry, Maxie!” I called out with a wink, ignoring his growl of disapproval.
Everyone in Otterville Falls was terrified of Mad Max. They said that he once tore off live chicken heads with his bare teeth and that he would slit your throat first and ask questions later. I think that was part of the reason why I like him so well.
Not that I had a thing for dead poultry. But I like that I always knew where I stood with Max. He might be crazy, but he told the truth as he saw it; and that was enough for me. I supposed that it didn’t hurt that he used to ride with my daddy’s MC.
I never knew my daddy. Folks around here said I never had one. But old Max, he said that was horseshit and that he was one of the scariest mother fuckers you ever did see. I had been crying about a black eye that some kid at school had given me.
Mad Max pulled me aside and told me about my daddy. He said if anyone ever bothered me to tell them that he would come and open a can of whoop-ass on them so big that they would never find their way home again.
I drank up that story like a cactus in the desert. The next time someone tried to hurt me I told them just what Max had said to me. Thankfully, nobody really ever bothered me again. It was a little surprising to find that I wasn’t the target of accidents any longer. There had been baseball bats tossed directly at me, doors slammed on my fingers, and beer cans tossed at my head.
However, true to his word, no one ever tried to hurt me again physically.
I did, for the most part, become invisible. After all, if you can’t bully someone, it really takes the fun out of it. Maybe they thought they were doing me a favor. I was okay with being invisible—that only hurt on the inside.
I kissed Max on the cheek, ignoring his protests and sashayed over to my next table. Alice and Reena were two seventy-year-old ladies that thought they were the cat’s pajamas.
For the record, I have no idea what that means.
What I did know, was that these two ladies were brave enough to come into this bar nearly every day for lunch. I liked visiting with the two spitfires.
“Hey, girls,” I greeted them with a wide smile. “Would you like the regular or do you want to spice things up?”
Alice pursed her lips wickedly. “Unless you have found a way to get that boss of yours to lose his boxers, I am betting that there is nothing spicy around here going on at all.”
I choked on my laughter. “Alice! That’s sexual harassment.”
“I would like to harass him—sexually,” she licked her old lady lips lewdly, and I couldn’t control spurt of laughter.
“Shirley Temple for me,” Reena said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “And white zinfandel for the cougar if you don’t mind.”
“Coming right up,” I said with a smile, jotting down their drinks even though it was the same thing they always ordered. “Y’all want anything to eat?”
“Do you have those crab cakes that you did last week?” Alice’s eyes were hopeful.
“I will check with Joe,” I promised. “You want the same, Reena?”
“Oh, goodness me, no! I couldn’t—well, maybe just a nibble or two,” she said as she tipped her head to the side as she considered out menu. “And some of those onion rings, but just a few mind you. I’m watching my weight.”
I nodded obediently and didn’t mention that we had all watched her weight as she ballooned to over three hundred pounds. If the woman wanted onion rings, I sure as hell was going to bring them.
My next table held a man I didn’t know. He was tall and angular with a lean muscular build. His slate grey eyes sat under thick brown eyebrows which matched his slicked back hair. He was wearing a suit that likely cost more than this entire bar.
“Welcome to Abberly’s,” I said in my most courteous tone. “I am Sutton. What can I get you to drink?”
The moment his eyes locked on mine I felt a jolt of electricity run up my spine.
“Sutton?” His deep timber sent another rash over goosebumps over my skin.
“Yes?” I chirped stupidly. “Yes,” I said again, this time in a normal tone.
He let out a sigh of relief before reaching out and firmly grabbing my arm. “It's about damn time.”
