“Watch your ass, Sawyer, before you’re out a client,” Michael warned in a low voice. “Don’t mistake my calm for being a pushover. I’ve done a hell of a lot for you over the years. I’ve taken immature rookies and guided them into men who can play the game and keep out of trouble. I’ve pulled sophomore idiots from the brink of disaster. And I’ve kept myself in this game without any problems for a decade. I’ll be damned if you make me feel like an incompetent toddler because I don’t agree with your business moves.”
“All right, all right.” All placating now, Sawyer said, “I’ll talk to her later. She’s an adult anyway… when she chooses to act like it. Ignore that,” he added when Michael growled again. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”
“No, I will.” God knew what Sawyer would say. At this point, Michael was ready to give the guy the boot himself. After a calming breath, he added, “She doesn’t know I called you. I’ll tell her later. She deserves to be told that face to face. It’s the respectful thing to do.”
“Whatever you say, Lambert.” He heard the scorn in his agent’s tone and hung up thinking through a few things.
Kat hurried around Diane at the bar, then waved Sissy down from across the room as she plunked two bottles of beer in front of a patron. Taking their money, cashing out and putting the extra in the tip jar by the register, she waited for Sissy to make her way through the crowd.
“So many people have been asking me about you!” Sissy’s dark eyes lit up. “They all want to know if a real professional tennis player works here or if that was just more of Red’s bullshit, which everyone happily swallows with a smile anyway.”
“She told everyone I was a national cheerleading champion,” Diane said as she walked by carrying two mugs of draft. “Never done a split in my life.”
“Not without a spotter anyway,” Sissy added under her breath. From the way Diane flipped her off, it was clear her voice hadn’t been low enough. Sissy just laughed. Kat chuckled too.
“Not paying you to gossip and bitch,” the redhead in mention said as she sailed by carrying a tray of empties. “Siss, get your ass out there and start bussing glasses, or we’ll run out. Hot damn, it’s hopping early tonight. We’re gonna hit capacity before ten at this rate.”
“All thanks to our sweet Kitten.” Diane gave her a smile and batted her lashes.
Kat just rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, even athletes need money to live. Let’s start making some money, ladies.”
“Here, here,” Red said loudly, pushing through the double doors to get back to the dishwashing area.
“Really though, why do you work here?” Diane bumped shoulders with Kat as she reached into the nearby cooler for some more beer bottles.
“I just need the money. Long dry spell.” She turned to greet the next patron at the bar. “Hey there, what can I get for ya?”
“Two whiskeys for my friend and I.” The man leaned his elbows on the bar top, smiling easily. He had a sort of hipster vibe, with a plaid shirt and thick-framed glasses, messy hair and, if her calculations were correct, skinny jeans. Not really her type but cute for some people. Not unattractive by any means. “And we’d be happy to buy you a shot if you’d join us.”
“On the clock,” she said automatically, adding in a friendly smile as she always did. Patrons offering to drink with her wasn’t uncommon. And though Red had made it clear she didn’t give a crap if the servers partook as long as they stayed sober enough to count out change, check an ID and pour a drink, Kat just wasn’t much of a drinker.
There was probably an article somewhere that refuted that claim. Slut and lush tended to go hand in hand when people were thumping Bibles… or just judgment.
“You’re the tennis player, right?” The customer edged forward, almost leaning on the bar as if to get a better look over it. Looking at her legs, she realized. “No skirt?”
“At the dry cleaners,” she said tightly, passing him two whiskeys. She gave him the price, he tipped lavishly, then didn’t move. After popping the tip in the jar and serving another drive-by patron a bottle, she looked back. “Something wrong with the drink?”
“No, I’m sure it’s fine.” He took a small sip, then nodded. “Great.”
“Good.” She hesitated, hands on her hips. “Anything else?”
“Just wondering what time you got off work.”
“Whenever I’m cut. Sorry, I’ve got to get these,” she added as the receipt from the back room started printing off a drink order from one of the two runners out on the floor. “Enjoy the drinks,” she added as a good-bye.
He tipped the glass to her in salute, then disappeared into the crowd.
“You know, we could make a killing if you’d wear one.”
Kat turned to Diane as she started to pull a local draft. “Sorry, what?”
Diane flipped her blond ponytail over her shoulder and leaned in. “If I wore a cheerleading costume, and you wore one of those little tennis skirts… we’d be millionaires by morning.”
“Not really what I’m shooting for, but thanks.” She gave Diane a small smile to ease the sting. “Sorry, I just mean I need to focus on tennis. I like working here, and it’s fun to dance around and blow off steam on the bar during lip-sync battles or whatever. But I don’t actually want to pick up guys.”