Hendrix (Caldwell Brothers)

About that time, I dropped the denim, and well, let’s just say, underwear isn’t my thing. The fucking chicks went crazy. I pulled the bar rag off my shoulders and covered up the crowned jewels of Caldwell then grinded some more.

“Not gonna happen.” I laugh as I tuck the memory back away.

“You worried mine is bigger than yours now?”

“I ain’t worried about shit.”

“Bullshit. This place has kept you busy as hell for a few months now. When’s the last time you got laid?”

I’m not one to kiss and tell, so I simply shake my head at him.

“Don’t you worry about my dick. Worry about your own.”

Jagger strolls in, smiling. “We on for tomorrow night? I just hung up a bunch of flyers. The Caldwell boys are back to providing Ladies’ Night Delight.”

“No, man, we aren’t.”

“That’s not what the flyers say.” Morrison laughs and fist pumps Jagger.

“Look, shit’s changed over the years, man.” I shake my head. “Laws and codes, man.”

“You got that door. Shut the bitch when it’s packed in here.”

I stand back, lean against the back bar, and cross my arms. “Don’t pull that shit on me again. I’ll let it happen this once, but not again.” They smirk at each other the same way they used to when they pulled the wool over Mom’s eyes. I suppose I was the oldest, and with that came responsibility and shit. “I’m not getting up on my bar.”

“Bullshit,” Jagger laughs. “All for one and one for all, man.”

“I own this place. It ain’t happening. Besides, I tend bar Thursday nights. No coverage, so don’t fucking push. Be happy I’m allowing it.”

I look up as a chick walks into the bar, holding the newest ‘Help Wanted’ sign. She is bundled up in what seems to be four or five scarves and an oversized coat. With her hat covering her head, it is hard to get a good look at her, but even in layers, it is not lost on me that she is a hot, little piece.

“Hi, I’m here to inquire about the position.”

Morrison’s lips turn up as he turns on his stool to give her his undivided attention. “What position are you applying for?”

“Um, any position is fine with me. I’ll take whatever you can give me.”

“I’ll give you whatever position you—”

I smack him in the head with the bar rag to shut him the hell up. “You have any experience?”

As soon as the words leave my lips, I regret them. My brothers both turn around, biting their tongues.

“Very limited, but I’m a real quick learner,” she says in a sugary sweet tone. Too sweet. She will get eaten alive in here.

“Really don’t have time to teach anyone—”

Her hand immediately goes to her ass, and I swear to fuck she rubs it. Is this some new trend and I missed it? First the broad at the fundraiser and now this chick with the ass rubbing.

“Well, shit, I do.” Morrison smirks as he turns back around to her. “You’re hir—”

“Morrison,” I cut him off. He continues anyway.

“Come back Thursday night, eight o’clock, and bring your friends. You still think you can handle any position we have to offer, you got yourself a job.”

My jaw is twitching from clamping it so tight. Before I can calm myself down enough not to scream at my brother, she smiles, turns, and all but runs out the door.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I snap at him.

“Getting you some help.” He winks. “If you don’t want to teach her the ropes,” he says as he grabs his dick, “I will.”

“First of all, if I hire someone, you don’t fucking touch them. Second of all”—I point to myself—“I hire my employees, got it?”

“Fuck, I don’t care. I just hope she comes back Thursday.” He laughs like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“If she does, I’m tagging in,” Jagger adds, only putting more fuel on the fire of my untamed aggression right now.

“You fuckers are sick.” I take a drink of my coffee and turn on the TV. Monday night football will be on soon, and my Lions are playing tonight.

Jagger gets up and walks behind the bar. “I’m making wings. You guys want some?”

The rest of the night, we sit at the bar, eating wings—our Monday night tradition with Mom. The old man was always taking off on Monday nights and going somewhere. Always said it was a card game, but I heard him telling Mom once that he needed a break from his responsibilities on Mondays. His responsibilities. That was a fucking joke.

As I look at my brothers, both seem happier than they have been in a long time. I’m sure Momma is proud of them.

Chapter Six

Bars mean tips. Tips mean immediate pay. If I show up Thursday night and work, I will have tips. If I do it well, if I make this work, I can pay my water bill on Friday and avoid disconnection.