Ruth was scheduled to come in at five, but I wasn’t surprised when she stormed in the back door fifteen minutes early. If anything, I was surprised it had taken her that long.
“Maxwell,” she called out with fire in her eyes, standing in the doorway separating the dining area from the back. “Your office. Now.”
I’d been sitting at the counter, tallying up the tips while Max sat on a stool behind the bar, reading a paperback western. But he lowered the book and shot me a look that screamed, Oh shit.
This was something else Jerry had been right about. Max owned the place, but everyone knew Ruth ran it.
“Now!” she barked. Before she turned the corner, she stopped and pointed her finger at me. “And don’t you dare leave this bar!” Then she stomped off.
Max dragged his feet, and it would have been comical if he weren’t a twenty-nine-year-old man, deferring to his hired help. But if I’d learned one thing about Max, it was that he was excellent at handling conflict with or between any customers in his tavern—he’d even whipped out a knife to defend me from a drunken lecher—but he couldn’t stand to make anyone on his staff unhappy. He tried to placate all of us, attempting to ride the middle ground so he didn’t look like he had a favorite—which tended to backfire and make everyone unhappy. Ruth and Tiny had gotten into a spat the week before, but Max had refused to intervene, even though Ruth was clearly in the wrong. (Not that I was stupid enough to tell her.) We’d all walked on eggshells for two days until Ruth had reluctantly apologized, telling Tiny that Franklin had called her out for being a bitch.
In this situation, I understood why Ruth was upset—hell, I was grateful for it—but I had to agree with Max that it wasn’t smart to fire Lula. Better to let her quit or run off again on her own terms. I could make it work until that happened.
I headed to the service counter, and Tiny and I jumped when we started hearing muffled shouts.
“Mom and Pop are arguing again,” Tiny said with a grin, but I could tell he was as unnerved by it as I was. Especially since I was part of their argument.
Ruth emerged ten minutes later, but Max stayed in his office.
“You,” she barked to me as she headed out to the bar. “Come with me.”
I shot Tiny a worried look, but he just shrugged and smiled.
I followed her behind the counter.
“I’m running the bar tonight. Max’ll help once the football crowd shows up. You and Lula’ll wait on the customers through dinner.”
“Okay.”
She frowned. “Lula ain’t me, so you’ll likely be pickin’ up the slack for her.”
“The dinner crowd on Thursday is usually pretty light. I should be okay.”
She smacked her hand on the bar, her eyes blazing with anger. “Why the hell aren’t you pissed off?”
My eyes flew wide. “About Lula?” I shook my head. “Ruth, when I started, the agreement was that I’d only work until she came back. I’m only glad I get to stay on part-time. I’ll take whatever I can get for hours, as long as I’m not hurtin’ you.”
“Don’t worry about me,” she said in frustration. “Worry about yourself.”
“Maybe she won’t stick around,” I said, “but in the meantime, at least you’ll get more help. And maybe a few days off.”
“And a raise,” she said fiercely. “Max is payin’ us minimum wage in addition to our tips.”
I blinked, sure I’d heard wrong. “Are you kidding?”
A grin tugged at her lips as she shrugged. “I tried to get health insurance and paid vacation, but at least I got us a raise.”
A new worry hit me. “Can Max afford that?”
“Don’t you worry about Max,” she said. “He’ll be just fine.” She grabbed two shot glasses, set them on the counter, then filled them with whiskey. Picking up the glasses, she handed one to me and kept hers raised. “To better days.”
I clinked my glass with hers. I could drink to that. “Amen.” We both downed our drinks, and I set the empty shot glass on the counter just as a young couple walked through the door. “Looks like it’s time to get back to work.”
Ruth made a sour face. “What do you know? It’s after five and Lula hasn’t shown up for her shift yet.” She shook her head. “Get used to it. She’s never on time.”
I walked around the counter to greet the customers and tell them about Tiny’s Thursday night special—chili cheese dogs. (We weren’t exactly a classy joint.) As soon as I got their drink orders, a family of five walked in. I invited them to take a seat anywhere they would like. As Lula wasn’t here, then I’d be waiting on everyone until she came back or Ruth came out to help.
We got several more customers, and things were hopping before Lula showed up at six.
“I’m sorry, y’all!” she exclaimed as she hurried out from the back, tugging her loose Max’s Tavern T-shirt into place as though she’d just pulled it over her head. The flyaway strands of hair sticking out everywhere indicated my thought wasn’t off base.
I blinked in surprise. While Ruth and I didn’t wear anything obscenely tight, our shirts were much more formfitting. Especially on a football night. Hadn’t everyone told me Lula was a flirt?
She hurried over to the bar and her eyes widened. “Where’s Max?”
Ruth put a hand on her hip and gave Lula the evil eye. “Catchin’ up on paperwork.”
“I didn’t know you knew how to tend bar, Ruthie,” she said, using Tiny’s nickname for her.
“There’s lots of things you don’t know about me, Lula. Maybe if you stuck around long enough, you’d find out a thing or two.” Ruth turned her back on her and headed over to the beer taps.
Lula turned to me with hurt eyes. “I think Ruthie’s mad at me.”
I stared at her in disbelief. Was she for real or was this an act to go along with her innocent-schoolgirl persona? I decided to be generous. “I think Ruth’s upset that you keep taking off and leaving her with all the work.”
“But you’re here now.”
“And so are you,” I said. “We’ll all be making less money. Although Ruth had a discussion with Max earlier, and he agreed to give us all a raise.”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh! That’s good.”
“Yeah,” I said. She didn’t seem to get it, but I decided to let it go, especially since a group of people had just walked in the door. “How do you want to divide up sections? I’ve been working your old section, but maybe I should work Ruth’s tonight. The Thursday night football crowd will be happy to see you.” So happy I wondered if they’d flood her section, leaving me with only the leftover guys who wouldn’t fit.
“Okay,” she said, her nose scrunched in confusion. “So Ruth’s not working tonight?”
Was she really this slow? I didn’t see any hint of duplicity—if anything, she seemed distracted and worried—so I softened my tone. “She’s working behind the bar, remember? Max’ll come out later.”
“Oh,” she said with a frown, then nodded. “Right.”