My Brother's Girl by Sienna Blake

Author:Sienna Blake [Blake, Sienna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SB Publishing
Published: 2020-04-07T05:00:00+00:00

Kayleigh

I figured maybe a night or two of wall-shaking music, eardrum shattering karaoke, and a brain-piercing headache might drown out any and every thought of Darren from my mind.

Turns out the thoughts of him were louder.

After I fought with Darren in his shop, I texted Aubrey and asked if I could pick up a shift or two at The Jar for some extra cash; I didn’t bother telling her right away that by “extra cash” I meant rent and food costs and utilities and anything else I needed to stay alive, because I wasn’t going to go back to work with Darren.

Thankfully Aubrey didn’t ask any questions and said yes right away. The roughest part of the whole process was listening to Candace scream for three minutes straight when I told her I’d be working with her that night.

We walked over to The Jar together for our shift. With her normal exuberance, Candace showed me where the kegs were located in case they needed replacing during the night, how to load up dirty pint glasses into the dishwasher, and who to call in case someone got just a smidge too rowdy. I nodded along politely and tried to show enthusiasm for what she was showing me, but truthfully, it was nothing new.

If you’ve worked in one bar, you’ve worked in every bar.

Ten minutes into the shift, I’d learned everything there was to learn, and there were still seven hours and fifty minutes left. At least the single clock on the wall was covered with a splatter of neon silly string so I wouldn’t be tempted to check the time every thirty seconds or so.

“Are you just loving it?” Candace shouted over the music that rattled the floors beneath us after returning from the back with a clean rack of pint glasses. “Isn’t it just the best job in the world, Kay?”

I started to help her stack up the glasses and nodded. “Yeah, it’s alright craic, I guess.”

It was the fifth rack of pint glasses we’d unloaded that night, and we were only halfway through at that point.

“Way better than that dingy, dirty garage, right?” Candace nudged me with a wink for good measure. Her tactics in trying to convince me to work here full-time weren’t exactly subtle. But then again, Candace didn’t exactly do subtle. Ever.

“Emhmm,” I managed to eke out half-heartedly without pointing out the obvious fact that the soles of both of our pairs of sneakers were sticky with spilled liquor and that the bar top was coated in a layer of cheese and onion Tayto crisp crumbs.

“I mean, here you have great music.” Candace waved her arm in the air above her head to the lively rhythm of Beoga’s contemporary trad hit, “Dolan’s 6am”, as she poured a Guinness for a customer. “Is music even allowed in that place? Or do you have to whisper like it’s a boring old library?”

“What?” I shouted over at her while running another customer’s card.

“Don’t you like the music here?”

“Oh. Yeah. Sure.

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