Alessio frowned. “Nothing new there. They’ve been at each other’s throats for months.”
Years, really. But…
I went over what he said and how he said it. I heard something in that statement. “What do you mean ‘for months’?”
“They don’t get along. It’s gotta be difficult for ’em, you know, at the club.”
Uh, what now?
At the club?
Both of my brows rose, and I sputtered, “Excuse me?”
Alessio blew out a breath, looking mildly frustrated. “Aphrodite’s Kiss. Your ex-fiancé and your main squeeze, working together.” He shook his head at me, puzzled. “Any of this ringing a bell, princess?”
A chill went through me, and my entire body turned numb.
No. No, it sure as hell was not.
I spoke very slowly. “Vik’s been working at Aphrodite’s Kiss?”
My question brought on an instant change in his face. Alessio blinked at me, falling back in his seat. It took him a minute to say, “You didn’t know.”
Ding-ding-ding. Give the man a prize.
My mouth dry, I all but croaked, “How long?”
Alessio, knowing he said too much, just shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Alessio.” It was a plea, plain and simple.
His shoulders fell, and he dipped his head, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Six or seven months.”
Okay. All right. Don’t freak out, Nas. Be cool.
But I did not feel cool. I felt barely composed. “And what does he do there?”
Alessio reached up to scratch at his neck, and the move told me he was uncomfortable telling me what he was about to. “Odd jobs. Mostly security. He’s a good door bitch.” He spoke soberly, and suddenly, what Philippe said to Vik the day before ran through my head on loop.
Get the fuck out of my way, you second-rate mall cop.
My gut twisted. I felt like I was imploding on myself, and I was pretty sure I knew the answer to the question I was about to ask. “What are his hours?”
“Nas…” Alessio attempted to be Switzerland. Neutral. “I don’t think I should be talking to you about this. Maybe you should talk to Vik.”
My brain snapped like a rubber band. I grated out, “Don’t you think I would if I could? He’s impossible. Every time I try to talk to him, he fights me on purpose, so one of two things happens. We either fight or fuck. I just want answers.”
Alessio took in a deep breath and spoke on an exhale. “He works Friday through Monday, two thirty ’til five.”
I was so confused. The bewildered word that left me sounded strained, even to my ears. “Why?”
“Think that’s pretty obvious, Nas,” Alessio answered with a cold laugh. “He needs the money.”
That was crazy. He had money.
As Vik’s girl, I was privy to most everything, his finances being one of those things. I’d seen the accounts myself. Hell, at the later stage of our relationship, I’d even do his banking for him, paying his bills while he slept with his head in my lap, a frown permanently etched on his face.
Vik did well for himself. At least, he had when we were together. Sure, he wasn’t Scrooge McDuck, diving into pits full of gold coins, but he had savings enough that I wasn’t worried about him paying his rent or missing payments on his car.
A terrible feeling twisted the pit of my stomach. It sat heavy, like a rock, until it overshadowed every other emotion striving to be heard.
My internal dialogue must’ve shown some, because when Alessio asked, “How much do you earn, Nas?” my head snapped up.
“I don’t….” I shook my head, confused by the question. “What?”
“How much do you earn?” he asked again.
I wasn’t 100 percent sure, but I thought it was close to the figure I gave. “Around seven and a half a month.”
“Okay.” Alessio got out his phone and got into the calculator. “That’s ninety grand a year.”
Yeah. That sounded about right.
Then he asked, “Do you know how much the average bartender earns in Jersey?”
No, I didn’t.
But he told me. “Anywhere between thirteen and seventeen dollars an hour, all right?”
What?
No way.
That sounded awfully low.
He went on. “I don’t know about you guys, but we pay around the sixteen mark. And if you’ve got a bartender earning sixteen bucks an hour for fifteen hours a week, do you know what their paycheck looks like?”
My stomach sank.
I had no clue.
“That’s two hundred and forty dollars a week. So, a little over a grand a month. About twelve and a half a year. Now, these are all just figures here. Plus tips, less taxes and life expenses, do you think a person can live off that alone? What about a single parent who needs to feed and clothe their kids? How about someone with health issues? Or the sole supporter of their family?”
I was beginning to get the point.
My tongue felt like sandpaper in my mouth, my reply full of regret. “No.”
Alessio began to nod in agreement. “Now, I’m not saying Vik earns so little, because I know he doesn’t, but every now and again, it’s good to take a look at what your employees are earning versus what the lucky sons of bitches like us earn. Because it’s crumbs, babe. I can tell you right now that Vik ain’t earning ninety grand a year to sling drinks and roster bar bitches on, you get me?”