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This time she’d have Mike by her side, and she just knew there’d be nothing tedious about that, success, or no success.
They’d spread their bait. Now they just had to wait to see if the info would be gobbled up, and the rat-trap sprung.
Getting ready for work late in the day on Tuesday, Joe eyeballed the short skirt and tight T-shirt she’d wear, grimacing at how much it displayed her body. She almost went for her black pants and button down, but… That was the point, wasn’t it? To blend in? And that’s what the other servers always wore, sooo…
Joe slathered on the makeup, another perk of the job. Not. She picked up her purse and headed out, making sure to lock up after herself. The sample of what she believed to be xylazine was still in her safe; her mind not yet made up as to whom she should give it. She was leaning toward Mason, but just in case Lester decided to play nice and got back to her with the intel she didn’t need now that she had it from Mike, she’d hang on to the bag a little longer.
During her drive to work, she kept one eye on not only Benji’s rig on her phone app, but also on the warehouse cameras she’d installed. So far, over the course of two days, there’d been no activity at all. It was frustrating, the operation not moving along, but Joe supposed she should be thankful. The longer she was in Maine, the longer she’d have to see if the situation with Mike would go anywhere.
But not seeing him since Sunday? Well, it was one more letdown to add to her pile of annoyances.
The drive was short, and she took a good, long look at the parking lot when she arrived. There were no perp vehicles. Too bad. She was ready to tag another one if she got the chance.
When she walked into the bar, the server on the shift before hers gave Joe a quick smile before hightailing it out with a roll of her eyes.
Great. That meant Wendel was in one of those moods.
An hour into her shift, the establishment was pretty quiet. But seriously? That hadn’t stopped Wendel from groping her nearly every time she had to get something from behind the bar.
After his fifth attempt to get his hand up under her skirt, she finally turned to him and growled. “If you value those fingers, hon,” she drawled extra-hard, “you might want to keep them away from my hoo-hah.”
The man, clearly an idiot, smirked. “You know you love it. Or you will, soon enough,” he leered. “If you start playing nice, I can make things a lot sweeter for you, here.”
Joe was seeing red, but dialed back her nasty retort, soft-pedaling instead. “Wendel, sweetie, I have been playing nice.” She gave him a sickly-sweet smile. “And now I’m giving you a friendly-like warning. When I hit my limit, you’ll wish you’d never started your game.” With a nod, Joe picked up the three beers he’d just poured, whisking them and herself away before Wendel could get in the last word.
Heaven help her with that grassbowl. If he pushed her buttons any harder, she was going to take him down, job and cover be damned. The man was a clueless pig.
Joe’s night went without incident for the next hour; the bar picking up as it got later. But it was disappointing that neither of her suspects showed up, nor did Mellie and Cameron. The whole night was one big ho-hum, and she couldn’t wait for it to end. Luckily, it being a Tuesday, the bar closed at midnight, so…
She glanced at the clock. Only three more hours to go.
A large group of boisterous young women entered a few minutes later, clearly celebrating something that had them all in a fine humor. Joe went to greet them with a huge smile. “Hey ladies,” she grinned. “It’s a slow night, so I’m really glad to see you. How about we push a few tables together for y’all?”
“That’s so nice,” the one Joe pegged as the leader grinned. “We’re celebrating.”
It looked like they might have begun the festivities several hours earlier.
“Really, hon?” Joe questioned. “What’s the occasion?” She walked them toward the best lit corner of the establishment, not wanting them anywhere near a few of the rougher patrons in attendance tonight.
“The office where we work just gave out second quarter bonuses, so we’re flush and ready to party.”
Joe grimaced. The woman had said it a little loudly, and ears around the joint had most assuredly perked up. If Joe wasn’t mistaken, this good-looking crew would be getting offers all over the place. Some nice. Some not so nice.
Joe would have to keep a close eye on them.
They weren’t bitches either, these rollicking ladies. They didn’t hesitate to help Joe rearrange furniture to suit their party, they included her in their banter, and when they finally settled, they all thanked Joe while putting in their orders; orders that didn’t usually get asked for in the locals’ bar.
Joe had a tough time keeping a straight face.
Did Wendel even know how to make espresso martinis?
She set out napkins, told the table she’d bring snacks, then went back to the bar.
“Six espresso martini’s, three glasses of pinot, and two margaritas.”
Wendel looked at her askance, swore once or twice under his breath, but thankfully got to work, which made it a good time to slip behind the bar and grab pretzels and nuts, since his hands would be busy.
Joe had just bent to open a new case of snacks, when she felt the now familiar press of a palm to her rear.