Real Dirty (Real Dirty #1) by Meghan March

Author:Meghan March [March, Meghan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9781943796724
Publisher: Red Dress Press
Published: 2017-05-08T04:00:00+00:00

28

Ripley

The last hour passed in a fog.

When the fire marshal leaves, I shut the front door behind him with a decisive click and throw the lock. Leaning against the nearest table, I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes.

More than anything, I want to sink to the floor, wrap my arms around my knees, and give in to the tears that have been threatening since the first awful question was thrown at me like a Molotov cocktail by those reporters.

How could anyone think I had something to do with Boone and Amber breaking up? I didn’t even know him then.

Who would give them that kind of tip? It doesn’t make any sense.

I swallow back the lump in my throat and straighten.

The stack of citations the fire marshal left sits on the bar like the pile of crap it is. In addition to overcapacity, he wrote up the Fishbowl for outdated fire extinguishers, failure to test the sprinkler system regularly, and three other violations that sounded made-up to me.

“What a crazy night.” Carter picks up a toppled stool before reaching for another.

The bar is a wreck. Two tables, three stools, and six chairs—all broken. There’s shattered glass on the floor, along with puddles of spilled drinks, vomit, and what looks like blood from the fight. Cups cover the tables, some tipped over and leaking onto the floor.

Dory, Carter, and I survey the mess with the same daunted look on our faces.

“You guys can go. I’ll deal with this.”

They both look at me like I’m nuts. And maybe I am, but right now I don’t think I can handle making small talk while we clean up this disaster.

“Not a chance. I’ll clear those tables and wipe them down. Carter will get the broken furniture out of here, and you can handle the mopping. Let’s do this.” Dory sounds like a drill sergeant, and they both spring into action.

I stare at the citations for another long moment, flipping through them and tallying the numbers in my head. I don’t know how much we made tonight, but these fines are going to eat up most, if not all, of the cash. But first, I need to make sure Carter and Dory get paid. They rallied tonight with the kind of loyalty that’s worth more than money.

Another hour passes and Dory and Carter have finished their tasks, leaving me with a hug from each and half the floor to mop.

“Call me if you need me tomorrow. My daughter picks up the kids at five, so I’m around after that,” Dory says.

Carter offers his help if it’s needed again too, but I can’t imagine it will be.

Can I even open tomorrow with these citations?

I wave to both of them, and the sick feeling that’s been churning in my stomach intensifies as the question hangs over my head.

It’s the weekend, so it’s not like I can pay the fines or call the city and ask questions. The only thing I can do is get this

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