Make more money
AMARA
The light above me flickered and I looked up at the ceiling, squinting at it as if I could diagnose the problem with just an irritated look and my willpower. But we were lucky the lights were still on, with the wad of red bills clamoring for my attention on my desk, and I sighed as I leaned over the table to wipe the worn wood.
“Quiet tonight, my dear. “ Hall Yard's soft voice broke the silence and I stiffened, pausing my movement for just a split second.
I shrugged, trying to look unconcerned. “I guess that's what I get for having ancestors who didn't know the direction Baton Rouge would expand in.” We weren't exactly on the tourist trail in town, and The Pour House remained quiet most nights. The people passing through had pretty much dwindled to an army of frogs and too many mosquitoes.
Paul , Hall's brother , chuckled. “But the chicken wings were good tonight.” He patted his slightly rounded belly, with a smirk that softened his scarred features.
Paul wore his ex-cop years in the lines and wrinkles of his face like a badge of honor, but he was soft on me (both brothers were, the uncles I never had) and Paul probably contributed the lion's share of my profits on nights I served wings.
I nodded, automatically making mental calculations as to when they would be back on the menu. The proceeds had probably been enough to offer more food the next day. It was always a fight to pay a bill and try to make more money. Speculate to accumulate... But the only thing that seemed to accumulate was more of Dad's gambling debt.
“One day,” I said, ‘life will be better and I'll have the money to pay all the bills when I need to, right?’ I smiled in the direction of the brothers, their once blond hair now shining grayer under my dim lights.
They were my most loyal customers. Always in the same corner, as if they were personal bodyguards. That they were both ex-cops also helped keep me out of trouble. Their tattoos were as intimidating as their discreet presence to the wrong people, that's for sure.
Well, maybe they couldn't keep the kind of trouble that answered to Dad's name at bay, but not many others tried anything.
Hall nodded. “I hope so, dear.” He cleared his throat and stirred in the booth; his portly figure no longer had as much muscle as it must have had in his youth. “How are things going with . all that?”
He gestured instead of being specific, which gave me the option of not answering his question, but what the hell? Avoiding the answer didn't make my cash flow problems any less real.
Things weren't going well, and both Hall and Paul already knew it.
“Same thing. I'm surrounded by foreclosure threats and demands for money, and I don't see any of that changing anytime soon. “ I hesitated as I grabbed a couple of dirty glasses from the back of the bar. “Well, I guess until I'm surrounded by foreclosure letters and it all goes away, right? Now that would be a change.”
Although the constant threat of losing the bar and my house haunted me right now, losing them both was going to be much worse. Paul made a sound of sympathy, but I ignored it as I took the glasses to the sink before returning to wiping down the surfaces. I couldn't afford to feel sorry for myself or accept the responsibility of soothing the sadness of others.
I had to survive day to day with a broken heart every time I remembered that I was about to lose everything: so much family history and the last link I had with my mother. She had worked so hard to build the bar before she died, and now she wouldn't even acknowledge it.
I had failed her legacy at some point, and I wouldn't even have a chance to make amends if the bank took it all away. I stopped my long sweeps of the counter, ignoring the areas where the varnish had lifted and the damaged wood had warped, and looked across the room.
This was my kingdom. Here I reigned. The jewel-colored bottles on the shelves behind me were one of my greatest treasures, and the smell of stale beer that lingered like perfume at all hours of the day and night simply smelled like home.
I had invested much of my life in this business, at the expense of making friends and boyfriends, or even having a personal life. I always had things to do. Tables to clean, order sheets to fill out, bill roulette to play. Which utility company would get lucky this month? It really depended on a camera and a wildly spinning destiny.
Paul exhaled a small sigh and stood up, his belly hanging just barely above his belt. He pulled a crumpled handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his glistening forehead. “I know you have your reasons, Amara , but damn, it's hot in here when you turn off the air conditioning.”
I smiled in response. A
paid for the air conditioning every night after the last customer left. Hall and Paul could stay as long as they wanted, or as long as they could stand the sweltering heat.
“I'm glad you went ahead. “ Her brother chuckled. “See you tomorrow, my dear. He offered me a brief hug.”
Losing this place would be as hard for them as it was for me. They had been friends with Mom and Dad for many years, and The Pour House was practically their second home. Not to mention that they had also practically adopted me when it became clear that Dad wasn't up to the role biology had thrust upon him.
“Thanks, guys. See you tomorrow. I followed them out the door and walked them out into the dark of night before closing the door and bolting it.”
Then I let out a sigh as I carried the last of the empty glasses into the kitchen and left them by the sink. I would clean them up in the morning. It wasn't like they'd run out overnight or like a fairy godmother would appear and give me a nose or something. But it would be my bad luck to have a sudden problem with overly friendly mice.