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CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

PERRY

I’m full of mixed feelings as we walk into Lethal Poison. On the one hand, I love the place; on the other, this is where I got shot and thought I was going to die.

Very, very polar ends of the spectrum and enough to make any guy confused.

Colin has been working with the baddie bunch to keep Lethal Poison up and running. Between Tommy “easily” hacking all of Luther’s accounts and making it look like he took his money and ran, the missing person’s case is coming along as well as Colin’s did.

The police are too busy, Luther convincingly bailed on all his responsibilities, and now the baddie bunch are going through the process of taking over the lease on the building since he’s completely MIA. Part of me is worried that his body will turn up, and suddenly, we’ll all be under investigation, but my pals have been doing this for a long time, and unlike me, they’re actually good at what they do.

The bar has been cleaned up from the mayhem it was the last time I was here, and the baddie bunch are sitting in a corner, laptops huddled on the table in front of them while they work on whatever they’re working on. They didn’t even look up when the tinkling bell let them know I was here .

“Hello, people much smarter than me,” I say, grabbing their attention.

“You’re late” is all Arlie answers. I’d be offended if she hadn’t visited me a thousand times while I was recovering, all under the guise of making sure I “stayed quiet” about what happened while she reacted to every little grunt or cringe I made.

I might have even put it on a little bit. Felt nice to see her care.

But her presence also meant that poor Lars was in a constant state of the stutters.

“Maybe you didn’t hear,” I reply, hands up in surrender. “I was shot, very bad. Might never be the same again. I can’t overdo it.”

Arlie rolls her eyes. “I swear to fucking god, if you’re late for a shift, I’m going to add your name to my own list.”

I look from Tommy to her again, lost. “Ah, what?”

“My list. You’ll be dead.”

I wave away the threat. “I got that part. What do you mean shift? I don’t know if you heard, but I’m a terrible hitman. You don’t want to hire me, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to take that part out of my resume. Probably.”

Tommy cackles. “You weren’t a terrible hitman, Perry.”

At first, I think he’s being sweet.

“You weren’t a hitman—period. You couldn’t even kill the bad guy.”

“I was gonna.” And I’m seventy-three percent sure that’s the truth. “But Arlie got there first.”

“You were already close to dead when I took him out.”

Everett grunts. “Thanks for that. The one thing I had to look forward to.”

“There will be a lot more bad guys out there for you to play with,” she says, patting him on the shoulder like she’s comforting a child. Then she turns her attention suddenly on me. “You start Monday.”

Did I hallucinate half of this conversation? I point at my face. “Not a hitman. Remember?”

“On the bar ,” she finally clarifies. “You know, the job Luther should have given you in the first place. ”

My mouth drops. “You want me to work for you?”

“Don’t get too excited. It’s impossible to staff the bar for a place like this.”

“Wait, you want me to be manager ?”

“I don’t think I said that.”

“If it’s impossible to staff, then apparently, a guy like me is in short supply. This is called negotiating.”

Everett leans back in his chair, lips pulling upward. “You’ve got balls negotiating with us.”

“Gotta shoot my shot.” I mime firing pistols with my fingers. “Get it?”

“What have I done?” Arlie mutters, burying her face back in her computer.

“I like your spunk,” Tommy says. “I bet there’s a course you can take to become bar manager. Arlie?”

She actually gives in. “Fine. But only because Tommy wants it. Not me.” Aww … she’s basically proposing to me. She keeps talking. “And tell Lars I’ll be there at ten.”

There’s a record scratch in my brain. “Wait, what?”

“Ten. Tonight. He needs to be ready.”

“Ready for what?” Ever and Tommy look as confused as I do.

“Wait …” Tommy leans forward. “Are you going on a date?”

Arlie’s gun is in her hand and against his chin before I even work out where she pulled it from. “Say another word.”

He doesn’t, but it’s less from the threat and more because he bursts into wheezing laughter.

Lars and Arlie, huh? Guess the big man finally won her over.

“Damn it,” I say, suddenly remembering something. “We were supposed to finish our show tonight. I bought popcorn.”

She turns her gun on me instead.

“The last time you did that, I got shot,” I remind her. “Somehow, I got through this thing without PTSD, and I’d kinda like to keep it that way.”

She huffs and tucks her gun away.

“But I’ll remind Lars to be ready for your date ,” I say before bolting .

Because sometimes I’m smart enough to learn from other people’s mistakes.

St. Clare looks up the second I step back outside.

“You good? Everything okay?” He wasn’t sure about me being here in the first place, but he’s slowly trusting the baddie bunch again since Colin has been doing so much work with them.

“Sure am.” I hold my arms out to the side. “You’re looking at the new manager of Lethal Poison.”

He blinks in confusion. “The what?”

“Well, bar manager, but I don’t think it really makes a difference.”

“They offered you a job?”

I puff out my chest. “One that comes with a qualification.” I’m going to hold them to that part.

“I … fuck. Congratulations.”

I accept his congratulatory kiss, wishing we weren’t standing on a street in broad daylight so that he could really congratulate me.

“Careful,” I tell him. “I’m going to know more about running a bar than you soon.”

“It wouldn’t be hard, if we’re honest.”

“Hey! Maybe we could go into business together one day.”

“Or maybe we focus on getting your medical bills paid down before we start getting ahead of ourselves.”

Elle had offered to pay them off for me, but if she did, when does it end? I’ve always been bailed out my whole life; now, it’s time for me to fix things myself.

With a little bit of help from St. Clare.

After all, I took a bullet for him. As far as I’m concerned, this injury was equal parts both our fault and would have happened whether I mistakenly shot off his ear or not.

Which he’s been gracious enough not to bring up for at least a week now.

All in all, I’d say watch out, there’s a new power couple in town .

“We’ll franchise,” I tell him. “Saint Nikov’s. Peilly’s. Niclare’s. We’ll workshop it.”

“Perry …”

“I suppose Colin can be involved too.”

“You suppose?”

“Well, he does know the most about the boring stuff.”

“Mkay.”

“And I can make us a signature drink.”

“Of course. In this far distant future where you’re a skilled mixologist and we have the financial freedom to do anything we want.”

Despite his words, I can see it. Not only the future, but he’s giving me that look. The one that tells me even if I don’t believe in myself, he thinks I can do anything.

And I can.

So long as we do it together.