This Cruel Love

“Steve’s an

ignorant asshole, but we aren’t all like that.”

The guy on the other side of the bar was a mountain of a man. He stood towering over me and his frame eclipsed the rest of the room, but he smiled like a child who’d just seen the ice cream truck go past on a hot day.

“I’m Dennis. I do security here. You must be Emily, the new barmaid.”

I didn’t correct him. I’d happily take Emily’s shift today if she was new. She’d need all the help she could get with this crowd. I guessed Dennis was an angel, though.

“Anything you need, just holler. We’re a good bunch here. Mr Caine runs a tight ship, but he’s a good boss. You won’t regret coming to work here. Despite what your first impressions of Steve are, don’t let that cloud your judgement of the rest of us.”

I took Dennis’s outstretched hand and winced as he gripped my miniscule hand in his like he was crushing rocks.

“Do you drive?” he asked.

“Err, no not at the moment. I haven’t had chance to get a car. I got a cab over here today.”

Dennis nodded to himself. “Get receipts if you call your own cab, but just so you know, we have a cab company we use for our employees. Mr Caine likes to make sure all of his staff get home safely after a shift. Just let me know when you’re clocking off and I’ll sort that out for you, Emily.”

How very baffling. So Jackson was happy to send thugs to an apartment at three a.m. to scare the hell out of the occupants, but he’d make sure everyone got a free cab home to keep them safe when they’d done a day’s work for him. Could this guy be any more of a conundrum?

Dennis gave me a captain’s salute as he pushed off from the bar and wandered back over to the doors leading to the back of the club. Today was certainly becoming quite the eye opener for me.

I restocked every fridge, wiping down the shelves as I did. Then I took the crates with the surplus stock back towards the cellar, where Steve was busy doing whatever it was he was working on.

“Thanks. I’ll take those back down the stairs. Wouldn’t want you breaking a nail,” Steve said snidely.

Exasperated by his comment, I plonked the crates onto the floor and held my nails up in front of my face.

“Sure thing. I gotta keep my nails looking sharp, haven’t I? I mean, what else would I use to defend myself from all the bitches here?”

“Whatever. Have you started those glasses yet? Or is that too much for the delicate skin on your hands to cope with?”

Boy, Steve was the biggest bitch of them all.

“Oh, I can cope with a lot, Steve. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be just fine.”

I’d done bar work before to help pay my way through university. Not that I’d told my family, but it felt good to earn some money of my own. Plus, it kept me focused on something other than missing Justin, and the long distance crap that we’d endured. The dishwasher they used here was a higher spec than the one I was used to, but it was easy enough. Load the tray up with glasses, pull the hatch down, wait for the green light to show the wash was over, and then take the tray out and leave it to drain. Not rocket science, but Steve would probably make out that it was.

I’d just run what felt like the hundredth tray through the washer, and was carrying it to the back of the kitchens to a free space to dry, when I heard a familiar voice.

“I thought I told you never to come here again.”

I placed the tray slowly onto the side and peered around the back door of the kitchens to see Jackson standing with his back to me. At first I couldn’t see who he was talking to, but as he moved to the side, I recognised the other guy. Ed, the unwanted house guest. The one who’d threatened us in our apartment that night, and the one who, according to Justin, was doing Jackson’s debt recovery.

“What, I’m not welcome here anymore?” He had a cocky air to him, and he was enjoying pushing Jackson, I could tell.

“No, you’re not fucking welcome. I already told you, I don’t want you anywhere near my home or my club. I paid you to do a job. It’s over. So you need to disappear back to the sewers you came from.” Jackson took another step closer to this Ed character. “If you can’t manage that, I can arrange to make you disappear another way.”

He reached behind and under his suit jacket and pulled out a hand gun, then held it up, pointing it straight at Ed’s face.

“You seriously think you can threaten me?” Ed laughed then moved a step forward, forcing the gun to push against his forehead like some kind of gangster movie stand-off. He had balls, I’d give him that.

“It’s the only fucking language you understand,” Jackson barked. “You had no problems threatening a woman not long ago, remember? I won’t warn you again. Stay. Away.”

Ed huffed in displeasure and pushed the gun out of his face. “So I’m exiled now, huh? You gonna talk shit about me too? Fuck with my business?”

“You got paid, didn’t you? Job done. I have no use for you or your shit. Leave. Before I do something I won’t regret.”