Chapter 4

Mikah

For the third day in a row, I'd woken earlier than the bar. My smart watch alarm stirred me at nearly four in the morning. It was pivotal I be up before Hallie for my plan to succeed. And for it, I'd need my phone's flashlight app. I blindly searched the floor beside my bed until my fingertips located it, finding I'd neglected to charge it before falling asleep. It also notified me of one missed text message from the very person I'd been trying to avoid last night... my ex, asking if I was coming back for a repeat of the night before.

While some nights we found ourselves back in bed together, I knew better. I'd fallen asleep deleting photos of Shelby and me instead of going back two nights in a row. There was too much hope hidden behind them. I wasn't ready for anything more than a few random hookups and still felt the need to punish her for lying about her feelings for Ollie. That heartbroken feeling wasn't going away soon, if ever. I wanted to stop having feelings for her altogether. There would never be a time where I believed Shelby no longer had feelings for my brother. The only thing I was sure of was Ollie no longer loved Shelby back.

The nearly dead phone was tossed over my shoulder to the mattress where I sat. The plan would have to go on without it. I rubbed at sleepy eyes, trying to focus. After spending an evening cleaning piss off the floor, my roommate was due for some karma.

The line of light from beneath Hallie's door was nothing new, and would aid with my lack of a flashlight. It didn't mean she was still awake, and it also didn't mean she was sleeping. The light was more commonly left on at night than not. I was banking on her getting little sleep with the drum show the night before. After snagging a few more items needed for the plan, I held a kitchen chair with one hand and used the opposite to open her door as quietly as possible. Heavy breathing confirmed the blonde being asleep. Although, you'd never know for sure with the mound of blankets Hallie was buried under.

It was weird to be in the room I had once occupied. The space had changed. My idea of décor was a few framed Chicago Bulls jerseys and some mementos from bands I'd played with over the years. Hallie's space was kept tidy, same as mine, but the amount of girly-shit she had accumulated in her twenty-three years was absurd. No one needed this many paisley pillows, makeup, and hair shit. The bathroom was bad enough with the birth control, tampons, and more makeup. With Shelby, it was the closet that was always the problem. Shelby had so many clothes, many still with tags and still in bags. She would spend money just to spend it and never cared whose money it was.

Looking to Hallie's open closet, there were clothes—mostly various colors of scrubs. That wasn't surprising. What caught my attention were multiple sets of clear plastic drawers beneath them. Normally, these drawers wouldn't have been questioned—I would have assumed they were full of more clothes. But one drawer hung open, and it was definitely not clothing.

"Jesus Christ." My eyes widened with the whisper, careful not to wake Hallie. I took another step to get a better look.

Sex toys.

Every size, shape, and color of dildo were present, including the crazy-looking dragon Hallie had used to troll my one-night stand with Kristina. With a quick glance over my shoulder to ensure Hallie remained sleeping, I quietly pulled the drawer beneath it open. This one housed the biggest selection of vibrators I'd ever seen, other than a sex shop my friends dragged me to during a bachelor party. Before the third drawer could be opened, Hallie rolled, causing me to shut the vibrator drawer quickly. She didn't wake, but it was too close; I needed to wrap this up fast—even with all the questions I now had about the closet of kink.

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"Have you seen a stack of notecards anywhere?"

I sipped my expresso as Hallie rushed around the apartment, tossing every pillow, cushion, and blanket in her path. She'd been going at this for at least a half hour. Even though there was an interview to attend for the bartender's position, there was no way I was missing this. I had outdone myself.

"Nope." I attempted to hide my grin behind the mug.

The lie was an easy one to tell. My child within was constantly repeating the words she started it. If I had any luck at all, Hallie would be the one to finish it by finding another place to rent. This was a favor to Sloan—one that was growing old fast. If Hallie were to decide to leave, I'd finally be able to select my roommate—another guy, preferably. One with fewer pillows.

My stare lifted again, watching Hallie attempt to tie her long, curly blonde hair back as she moved the furniture with her knees. "I know I had them here last night," she said with a groan. "I stacked them right before I went to my room to..."

"To...?" I smirked, now knowing exactly what Hallie had been doing in there. A drawer of dildos being left open meant Hallie had been fucking herself silly as I slept. Just how often does that happen? I wondered. That was just one question of many after what I'd seen.

Her eyes narrowed, tightening her ponytail at the same time. "Nothing."

"Right." I chuckled, placing the empty mug into the sink with the other dirty dishes being hoarded to further piss her off. "Well, I'm late for a meeting. Good luck with the notecards. Hopefully, your day starts... looking up."

The glare on my back as I walked out the front door could have burned a hole straight through my flesh. She was on to me. That was fine. The sooner she lost her cool, the sooner I would have the bachelor pad back.

Unlike the notecard lie, the interview was the truth. Finally, Ollie had made good on the promise to use the extra rent money from the apartment to hire another full-time bartender. Mulligan's currently staffed one full time and two part-time bartenders. It wasn't enough. Maybe Ollie could pull those open to close shifts, but I wasn't a fan of having no time for myself. Unlike my brother, I didn't have friends I trusted to run a bar for the entire night if time off was needed.

Tending the bar was never the dream. Neither was music. Being a musician was just a fun hobby. Fun was something I never had much of. Growing up on a farm, farming seemed to be the only other option in the eyes of my father. I had attended college for agriculture for all of a semester before dropping out. Even that didn't bring me to this restaurant. There were a bunch of jobs between that time and now; none that stuck or led to anything resembling a dream job. There was a grocery store shelf stocker, a shoe store clerk... even a janitor job that lasted all of two days. For being the last place I wanted to spend time, Mulligan's was the longest position I'd ever held. Now that the restaurant was back to turning a profit, and Ollie's depression was under control, the break I needed was here.

The place had only been open for twenty minutes. The bar was always slow in the mornings, other than the occasional patron wanting a Bloody Mary or mimosa with their lunch. Jack, who mainly stocked the bar during the mornings, could handle that much.

"Thank God," Ollie muttered as soon as I entered the kitchen. "Is it time?"

"Time for what?" Sloan questioned behind him as he tore off his jacket. Hands fell to her hips, telling everyone in this kitchen what mood she was in. "Ollie, don't you dare leave me in this kitchen on oyster day. I'm not shucking all these. I hate them."

"Half hour tops," Ollie promised without looking back. He grabbed my shirt on his way towards the door, dragging me with. "Get out of here. You don't want her to follow."

"Oliver Dean Mulligan!" The shriek came after the doors had swung shut.

"What did you do to piss her off?"

"Everything, apparently. She is a whole other level of salty today, and yesterday... and the last few weeks. I can't wait for Mexico. The sooner this wedding happens, the better."

The only part of Mexico I was looking forward to was getting shit-faced and planting my ass on the sandy beaches of Cancun. If I was really lucky, I'd get drunk enough before the ceremony that it was tolerable. Every engagement announcement and wedding were another reminder that my own didn't work out. There was a ring in my sock drawer, reminding me every day. Part of me wanted to give it back to Shelby. Part of me wanted to toss it into Lake Michigan.

"Your guy is at table six." Jack's head motioned toward the dining area.

Table six sat in the far back corner of the restaurant, giving us the privacy needed to conduct the interview. Our father's office was still in the chaos of being boxed up, which wasn't a process either of us wished to speed up. The interview was more of a formality, anyway. This guy could make a crappy screwdriver, and I would still have the mindset to hire him.

Upon our approach, the man stood to offer out his hand. "Mikah?"

"Nice to meet you," I said, confirming by taking his hand. "This is my brother, Ollie. He's the executive chef and also part owner of Mulligan's, along with our sister. Kit couldn't be here today."

"Great." The man smiled, offering his hand to Ollie. "I like the aesthetic of the place. I'm used to sticky floors and fried food."

"Well, no promises on non-sticky floors." Ollie took his seat after shaking hands. "I will promise more than fried foods."

The applicant was young, and by young that meant younger than myself—mid to late twenties, clean shaven, and dressed similar to the way I would for a Mulligan's shift in dress pants and a more casual dress shirt. His black hair stood spiked on his head in a way that said he had no control over its style. He didn't appear like a bartender—more like someone who hit a gym rather than out drinking like someone his age would do. Lack of a wedding ring made me hopeful his commitment would be to his work. Women took up too much time and weren't worth the effort... in my scorned opinion.

"So, you have tended bar?" I was ready to get to business.

"I have. One bar for about ten years. It was a lot smaller than this... family owned."

Closure of family-owned small businesses around here was nothing new. Had Ollie, Kit and I not thrown every dollar we had left into this place, we would have lost ours, too. But although the man's accent was Midwest, it wasn't the Chicago accent we were accustomed to hearing.

"Are you..." I began to ask about his mid-west dialect, watching Ollie lift his hand to halt someone coming from another direction. My brother's eyes had widened.

"Not the time." Ollie stood. "We are in an interview, Hal."

"This will only take a minute," she promised from behind me. I did not have my head fully turned over my shoulder to see Hallie before I was smacked upside the head with one of her notebooks. "You're an asshole! If I fail my test today because of you, I will make you wish you'd never been born."

Ollie's eyes rolled towards me. "I thought I asked you to stop this. What did you do now?"

Hallie hit me again before he could answer and hit me again a few more times as I laughed. "He taped all of my notes to my ceiling! It took all morning to find them. I was supposed to be studying."

"I found it funny." I shrugged, proud of myself.

"Ugh!" Hallie scoffed.

In the time Hallie had made herself known to the entire restaurant, Sloan had left her post in the kitchen and was watching from the swinging door behind the bar. Her arms crossed over her chest, clearly hoping that Hallie would come to her for a venting session between friends. Instead, Hallie stormed out the front door in her school uniform in a rush to make it to class. Sloan's frown sank further before she disappeared back into the kitchen.

The glare coming from Ollie only made my smile broaden. "She left out the best part. They spelled out fuck you. It took me a good hour, and I did it while she slept right beneath me. It's impressive and you know it."

Ollie's head shook no before turning back to their interview. "Can you handle having a child as a boss?"

The man looked from the door Hallie had stormed through and back to Mikah. "There's a lot of sexual tension built up there."

"Yes." "Absolutely not!" Ollie and I answered at the same time.

"There is not," I reiterated. "She's my roommate and is a royal pain in my ass. Let's wrap this up, shall we? The bar you worked at has closed. I cannot contact references from there. Not a huge deal if you worked in the industry as long as you say. We are not about to pay for a criminal background check. Anything you'd like to warn us about before we cyber stalk you?"

The man nervously clutched his hands together on the tabletop and dropped his stare at them. I knew this was going to be too good to be true. The last thing I wanted to do was interview a second person today.

"Probably would be better if you did the background check. I don't have a record. My family's name is mud where I'm from. I helped make it that way. No record, but I'm definitely searchable. It's why I left town. I needed to leave that life behind. I've only been in Chicago for a month."

Ollie and I shared a look of hesitance. The man wasn't offering more information on what had made his name searchable, but it obviously wasn't bad enough to land him a record.

"Listen,"—the applicant sat up straight, looking me in the eye—"I'm a damn good bartender. I grew up in a bar. Literally learned to walk in one. I was a stupid kid. I promise I pose no threat to you, your employees or your customers. I need a new start, and I would love for that to begin here. Name a drink and I can make it."

If we were going to have new staff trained before Ollie's wedding, we needed to start now. All the guys working in the kitchen were given fresh starts by our father, and it seemed fitting to continue that tradition. With another shared look, my brother and I silently agreed to give him a chance.

"Alright." Ollie nodded. "We won't search for you unless we feel it's necessary."

"Thank you." The man exhaled. "You do not know how much I appreciate this."

I held out my hand once more for a shake. "Welcome to the team, Tyler."