She laughed. “I was teasing you. Lula’s just wild and unreliable. But she’s sweet as sugar, so we all seem to tolerate the inconvenience.” She led me into a back storeroom lined with wire racks weighed down by huge boxes. Along the back wall was a metal cabinet above a collection of smaller lockers. A couple of them were secured with padlocks, but the rest were unlocked. Several coat hooks jutted out from the wall. Only two were in use—a navy blue woman’s coat hung from one and a man’s work jacket hung from the other. It struck me that it looked much too large for Max.
She saw my gaze and laughed. “That belongs to Tiny, the cook. I’ll introduce you in a minute.”
“Oh.” Of course there was a cook. There was likely more than one, but the size of that coat scared me. It had to be from a big-and-tall men’s store, which meant Tiny was someone’s idea of a cute nickname.
“Hang up your coat while I find you a shirt,” Ruth said as she tugged a plastic bin off the bottom of one of the shelves.
“Yeah, sure.” I shrugged my coat off one arm at a time so I didn’t need to let go of my purse.
Ruth seemed to notice my reluctance to put down my bag, but she remained silent as she sorted through the small stack of shirts in the bin.
“It might be on the small side,” she said, tossing one of them to me, “but it looks like you’ve got good tits, so show ’em off, honey. I suspect you need the money for that multi-day car repair, which means you’re gonna need the tips. But it’s your lucky day because tonight is Monday Night Football, sugar. Cute face, nice tits, and somethin’ new and intriguin’ for the boys? They’ll tip you well as long as you’re friendly.”
“How friendly?” I asked, my voice tight.
She laughed. “Not as friendly as you’re insinuating. Max won’t tolerate that—from either side. So don’t go promising some big reward after you finish your shift because he’ll fire you lickety-split. On the flip side, he won’t tolerate any man trying to grope you, so you be sure to tell one us immediately if that happens. Got it?”
The fiery look in her eyes promised me she meant every word. I pushed out a sigh of relief. “No worries there.”
With a sharp nod, she said, “Good.” A smile spread across her face. “I think I’m gonna like workin’ with you.”
I smiled back. “I think I’m gonna like it too.”
She laughed. “We’ll see if you’re saying the same thing at midnight.”
Chapter Three
After I swapped my long-sleeved T-shirt for my snug Max’s Tavern shirt, Ruth assigned me a locker and gave me a padlock and a key. I locked everything up and stuffed the key in the front pocket of my jeans.
“Don’t you worry about anyone stealing anything,” she said. “Max won’t put up with that nonsense, and Tiny would make them regret it until their dyin’ day, which would likely be sooner than they anticipated. But no one would dare try. For one thing, Tiny is slow to anger, but once he’s pissed…look out. As for Max, this is the only bar in a thirty-mile radius, and too many men in these parts love to come in for Monday Night Football to risk pissin’ him off.” She grinned. “Like I said, if you’re short on funds, you’ve picked a good night to show up. The Tennessee Titans are playin’ tonight, so we’ll be busier than ever. Truth be told, I’m thankful I won’t be workin’ it alone.”
I was only partially relieved. All the Tiny references had me on edge.
Chuckling, Ruth tucked her hand around my right arm and pulled me to the door to the hall. “By the look on your face, something I said scared you, but don’t you worry. Max and Tiny don’t take no shit from anyone, and they definitely don’t make us take shit from anyone either.” She leaned closer. “I’ve waitressed a few places, and nobody takes care of his girls like Max does.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Takes care of his girls? I was hoping the antiquated description wasn’t as misogynistic as it sounded.
Was it wrong that it made me feel safer?
“Let’s go meet Tiny before the rush hits,” she said, dragging me out of the storeroom and down a short hall into the kitchen.
A huge man with closely cropped red hair stood in front of the grill. “You stop right there,” he said, waving a spatula at us. “What do you think you’re doin’, Ruthie?”
He had to be at least six-foot-five or six, and while he was wide and thick, he didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. It was easy to see why Tiny was Max’s enforcer, but the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end at the thought of Max needing someone like Tiny in the first place. We’d never needed an enforcer at Applebee’s.
What kind of place was this?
“Don’t you be worryin’,” Tiny said to me with a warm smile. Then he shot a mock glare to the woman beside me. “It’s Ruthie I blame. She knows the rules.”
Ruth laughed. “Tiny doesn’t allow anyone not workin’ in the kitchen to step foot inside it.” Then she said, “I only wanted you to meet Carly before the chaos hits.”
“You keep the chaos out there.” Tiny pointed to the rectangular window opening on the wall to my right. “I’ll control it in here.” He squinted at me. “New girl, huh? Max finally decided to replace Lula?”
“Oh, no,” I said, lifting up a hand. “I’m just temporary help for a few days while my car’s getting repaired.”
He gave me a look that suggested he didn’t believe me but didn’t call me on it. “The menu’s pretty simple, and the system’s not complicated. Take the order on a notepad, then pin it on the line. We’ll pull the ticket and put it with the plate when it’s done.”
“What if there’s an appetizer?” I asked.
Tiny released a belly laugh, then said, “This ain’t no hoity-toity res-taur-aunt.” He tried to make the last word sound French but did a very poor job of it. “It all comes out at the same time.”
“Got it,” I said.
“Don’t you worry,” Tiny said. “If Lula can handle it, you won’t have a lick of trouble.”
“Thanks, Tiny,” I said, feeling foolish for being frightened of him and also relieved by his reassurance. I hadn’t waitressed in nearly a decade. I hoped it all came back.
An hour later, the tavern was half full—a big group of men had descended on us, scooting the tables and chairs around so they could get the best views of the big-screen TV. Ruth had been right about their interest in me, but their attention seemed good-natured and respectful.
“Gentlemen,” Max said, walking over to the group and putting a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sure you’ve all met Carly by now. She’s fillin’ in for Lula. I expect you to treat her with the respect she deserves or you’ll be answering to me or Tiny.”
“That goes without sayin’, Max,” one man grumbled in the back. “The rules ain’t changed since you took over the place.”
“A little reminder never hurt anyone,” Max said. “Be sure to tell your friends when they come in. Now, to celebrate our newest employee, how about a round of beers on the house?”