Page 2 of From the Start

“I told you not to bring Boozer to the bar anymore.”

“But look at his face,” she pouts. “Who can resist this face?”

She squashes his face with her hands and bats her eyelashes at me. I cross my arms over my chest and give her the ‘look’. My employees have nicknamed it my Siren’s Scowl. They think I don’t know. Ha! I know everything happening in my bar.

“Sloane,” I grumble. “This is a business. I can’t have patrons being licked by your dog. It’s not professional.”

She rolls her eyes. “Did you forgetRumrunneris a speakeasy on a touristy island?”

I frown. I don’t deny the island of Smuggler’s Hideaway is touristy. It’s impossible to miss with all the festivals and beach seekers, but I grew up on this island. It’s my home. I don’t enjoy people making negative comments about my home.

“Tourism isn’t an excuse to be unprofessional.”

She groans. “Are you going to give me one of your lectures about professionalism again?”

“No. What I am going to do is make you pay for whatever drink Devin wants.”

Her nose wrinkles. “Who’s Devin?”

“The man your dog just felt up!”

“Oh. Him.”

I check the time. “You can have your break now. Take Boozer home.”

“But then he’ll be all alone.”

I grit my teeth before I end up shouting. I promise I don’t have an anger management problem. What I have is a problem with employees who don’t listen to me.

“He gets sad when he’s alone.”

“If you don’t want him to be alone, you can have the day off.” I’ll end up working late again, but I’m used to it.

“I need the money.”

“Then, you know what you need to do.”

“You’re mean.” She huffs before spinning around and marching out of my office.

I’m mean because I insist my employees don’t bring an animal to work? Whatever. I don’t have time to worry about what my workers think of me.

I quickly make a note to add the price of whatever drink Devin orders to her paycheck before returning to the bar.

“Boss!” Trent, the bouncer, shouts from across the room.

I make my way to the door. “What’s up?”

“A couple of guests who don’t know the password.”

My brow wrinkles. “How did they get the location ofRumrunnerif they don’t know the password?”

TheRumrunner’s location is kept secret. You can hardly be a speakeasy if everyone knows your location. The bar is down a dark and dreary alley and there’s no signage. There’s merely a locked door with a small window in it.

Trent motions to a table of women sitting at a booth. “They’ve been texting and giggling while staring at the door. And the men outside say their women are inside.”

I notice the women are wearing seashell bras.

“I hate Mermaid Karaoke season,” I grumble. Mermaid Karaoke takes place atBootlegger– another popular bar on the island – but it’s not unusual for the mermaids and smugglers to continue their parties at my bar.