Five Weeks (Seven Series #3)

“Izzy.”

 

 

“Sounds like a real hoity-toity bar you worked at. Around here, we serve a bunch of roughnecks. They get wild, they break chairs, and damn if they don’t bust out a toilet at least once a month. I keep the place running smooth, clean, and tip-top. I fired the last girl because she decided to show her tits for a big tipper who was waving a Benjamin at her. If you pull something like that, you’ll be right on the street with her. I take care of my girls,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “You’ll get good tips if you know how to handle the customers and work the tables. If someone’s pushing you to do something or holding out, I wanna know about it. I don’t like cheapskates coming into my bar who won’t pay my girls for the hard work they put in.”

 

I rocked on my heels. “What about the uniform?”

 

He dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. “Your shirts are tight, but they’ll cover you up. The shorts are short because it gets hot around here, and there’s nothing wrong with a pair of lovely legs. But don’t even think about taking scissors to the shirts I provide you. Same rule as any respectable bar: watch how you bend over tables. If you know anything about wolves, then you know that’s a green light for them to come on to you. I’m a fan of dipping, and the girls here will show you their moves if you aren’t familiar.”

 

“I know the drill,” I assured him, not revealing I was a wolf. Jake was a chatty fellow, but I liked him right away. “I’ll get changed and have one of the girls show me around before it gets busy. When do we peak?”

 

Jake chuckled and leaned forward on his elbows. “Ten to three. You up for that, honey? It gets slammed here on Friday nights; you picked a helluva night to start your shift. You sure you don’t want to start out with the morning crowd?”

 

“No offense, Jake, but I work tables better than most. I’m a fast learner, hard worker, and I thrive in chaos. Do you have live bands?”

 

“Yep. Usually two nights a week.”

 

“Super. My kind of place.” I loved a busy bar with music, and I especially loved getting to know the regulars because that made it a friendly place to work. “Anyone you want to warn me about?”

 

His eyebrows sloped down. “How’s that?”

 

“You know,” I said with a shrug. “Sometimes there’s that girl who likes to steal customers or the bouncer who gets a little frisky.”

 

Jake pointed a finger. “If any of that goes on, then I want to know about it. I have a good staff, and if you have personal problems with them, that ain’t my business. The bartenders look out for my girls, and no one is stealing tables without answering to me. Get with Rosie and have her show you the ropes. She’s the best one to train you—been here the longest. I have to finish up some work and go home for the night, so if you have any questions, see Rosie.”

 

I spun on my heel and smiled. Jake was an all-right guy.

 

The uniforms for Howlers were sleeveless black shirts with the bar logo on the left breast, and black shorts. The bartenders had similar shirts to show off their biceps, but they wore jeans instead of shorts. I made my way across the bar, smiling at some of the patrons who whistled at me. I had a non-sluttish way of beguiling men that occasionally made them blush and feel guilty for catcalling me. Hawk called it the girl next door hex.

 

I approached a woman in uniform leaning against the bar. “Are you Rosie? Jake said you would show me the ropes.”

 

Rosie was a curvy woman with caramel skin, thick legs, and a generous cup size that no T-shirt could disguise. She exuded confidence in every subtle gesture. Her false eyelashes slowly fanned as she looked me over and smiled.

 

“The boys are going to love you,” she said. “I don’t deal with catty, so if you’re one of those backstabbers, then I’ll find out and cut you up.”

 

Gulp. Was she serious?

 

Rosie laughed and touched my shoulder, as if emphasizing she was only kidding.

 

“You’re a dainty little flower. What’s your name, hon?”

 

“I’m Izzy. Izzy Monroe.”

 

Her red lips turned down. “What kind of a name is Izzy for a girl? Don’t you want to come up with something a little sexier for work? You don’t want these boys treating you like a pal; you’ll never make tips that way.”

 

I gave her a broad smile and jutted my hip out. “Don’t worry, Rosie. When I’m on the floor, I work my assets. I may look like a dainty flower, but I’m really a wild weed.”

 

For emphasis, I spun around and gave her my best walk.

 

She giggled and leaned against the bar on one elbow. “That all?”

 

“Watch my dip.”