start pitching in for the cable bill.” I slap his back as I make my way to the back. Rich nods at me in hello but doesn’t say anything. Brenda smiles as she wipes down the counter and I tell her that her kid wants lunch. I don’t have anything to do with the kitchen staff because they are technically a separate business. A tiny little restaurant next door that Dad struck a deal with ages ago. They serve us food; we serve them booze. It’s a tax nightmare, but it is what it is.
As soon as I’m around the corner and past the cooler my chest gets tighter with every step. I’ve managed to ignore Kayla up until now, but by the terrible pop music playing from the shitty computer speakers, I know I’ll have to face her now.
I hear her voice rise above the music, and I pause just short of the door.
“God, Mom! I heard you. I’m sorry I’m such a fucking disappointment.”
My chest squeezes tighter. It bugs me when she talks to her mom. They both bug me.
“No, I don’t want her there. Layla doesn’t need to be there.”
Her sister Layla. Yeah, Kayla and Layla. Her mom is into that shit. And beauty pageants and cheerleading and anything else that is dominated by being the prettiest bitchiest girl with an eating disorder. Layla’s sixteen now so probably entering in the Miss Teen thing Kayla was in.
“Fuck. Stop. No, Mom. Don’t ruin her... Yeah, like me... You know what? Fuck you.” I hear her phone slam down, and I wait a long time before I poke my head in the doorway. Kayla doesn’t like that side of her life, and I don’t like feeling guilty about being mad at her. This reminds me of who she really is.
I finally step through the door, and she looks through her fingers at me. Papers are spread all around her.
“I need a raise.” She glares at a page with a bunch of scribbles on it.
“Yeah, probably. I should just make you a manager, and then I don’t have to come here to open the safe and shit for you anymore.”
“Yeah, probably.” She pushes the page away from her. “If there are 500 people at the Bash and they each drink an average of eight beers and a keg has 140 cups how many kegs would we need?”
“Twenty-eight and a half.” I say with barely a pause. She snaps her eyes to mine.
“I hate how easy that is for you.” She scrawls the number 30 on her paper. I shrug as I lean down to the small safe behind the door. I spin the combination and take out all the cash for the bar and the deposit from yesterday.
“It’s just numbers. There is always a right answer. It’s easy. Standard cups are 12 ounces, and eight beers per person for five hundred people is four thousand. If a keg has a hundred and forty, then it’s four thousand divided by a hundred forty.”
She looks at me blankly. I don’t know how she doesn’t get it.
“I hate you.” She smiles, and I wish I could still be mad at her but if Kayla is anything she is consistent. She changes for no one. She apologizes for nothing. I put the cash on the desk, sign off on the deposit and shove the envelope in my back pocket.
Just before I leave she clears her throat.
“Corbin?” she asks, and I look over my shoulder at her. “After what happened, I assume we’re over?”
I spin fully to watch her expression.
“Uh, yeah. I think we’re over.”
Her neutral expression settles into a glare that I can’t decipher. “Whatever.” She turns her attention back to her papers and my heart skips and thumps against my ribs.
It’s probably stupid, but the way she said whatever sounded like anything but what she intended it to be. My thoughts shift to Sophia, and how Kayla will take this out on her, because I know she will.
“Don’t think this gets you out of planning the Bash.” She glares at me then turns up the music, blatantly telling me to piss off.
I go back to work even more confused than I’ve ever been but glad for something else to focus on. A distraction.
Chapter
As soon as I’m around the corner and past the cooler my chest gets tighter with every step. I’ve managed to ignore Kayla up until now, but by the terrible pop music playing from the shitty computer speakers, I know I’ll have to face her now.
I hear her voice rise above the music, and I pause just short of the door.
“God, Mom! I heard you. I’m sorry I’m such a fucking disappointment.”
My chest squeezes tighter. It bugs me when she talks to her mom. They both bug me.
“No, I don’t want her there. Layla doesn’t need to be there.”
Her sister Layla. Yeah, Kayla and Layla. Her mom is into that shit. And beauty pageants and cheerleading and anything else that is dominated by being the prettiest bitchiest girl with an eating disorder. Layla’s sixteen now so probably entering in the Miss Teen thing Kayla was in.
“Fuck. Stop. No, Mom. Don’t ruin her... Yeah, like me... You know what? Fuck you.” I hear her phone slam down, and I wait a long time before I poke my head in the doorway. Kayla doesn’t like that side of her life, and I don’t like feeling guilty about being mad at her. This reminds me of who she really is.
I finally step through the door, and she looks through her fingers at me. Papers are spread all around her.
“I need a raise.” She glares at a page with a bunch of scribbles on it.
“Yeah, probably. I should just make you a manager, and then I don’t have to come here to open the safe and shit for you anymore.”
“Yeah, probably.” She pushes the page away from her. “If there are 500 people at the Bash and they each drink an average of eight beers and a keg has 140 cups how many kegs would we need?”
“Twenty-eight and a half.” I say with barely a pause. She snaps her eyes to mine.
“I hate how easy that is for you.” She scrawls the number 30 on her paper. I shrug as I lean down to the small safe behind the door. I spin the combination and take out all the cash for the bar and the deposit from yesterday.
“It’s just numbers. There is always a right answer. It’s easy. Standard cups are 12 ounces, and eight beers per person for five hundred people is four thousand. If a keg has a hundred and forty, then it’s four thousand divided by a hundred forty.”
She looks at me blankly. I don’t know how she doesn’t get it.
“I hate you.” She smiles, and I wish I could still be mad at her but if Kayla is anything she is consistent. She changes for no one. She apologizes for nothing. I put the cash on the desk, sign off on the deposit and shove the envelope in my back pocket.
Just before I leave she clears her throat.
“Corbin?” she asks, and I look over my shoulder at her. “After what happened, I assume we’re over?”
I spin fully to watch her expression.
“Uh, yeah. I think we’re over.”
Her neutral expression settles into a glare that I can’t decipher. “Whatever.” She turns her attention back to her papers and my heart skips and thumps against my ribs.
It’s probably stupid, but the way she said whatever sounded like anything but what she intended it to be. My thoughts shift to Sophia, and how Kayla will take this out on her, because I know she will.
“Don’t think this gets you out of planning the Bash.” She glares at me then turns up the music, blatantly telling me to piss off.
I go back to work even more confused than I’ve ever been but glad for something else to focus on. A distraction.
Chapter
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