Page 30 of Mourner for Hire

TWENTY-FIVE

DOMINIC

“Dad! Guess what!”

Eli’s daughter runs into the bar wearing her Hungry Hermit baseball hat.

“Hey, no kids in a bar.” I point a finger at Lucy.

“Hey, Dunner.” She rolls her eyes and smiles at me expectantly.

I reach into my pocket and toss her a butterscotch candy. She catches it with two hands.

“What happened?” Eli asks.

“That new lady in town promised to pay for the rest of my telephoto lens,” she answers, unwrapping the candy and popping it into her mouth.

I slam the glass I was drying down hard enough for it to crack. If the early rejection from Hillsboro wasn’t enough to sour my mood, this tips the scales. “She did what?”

“She’s not crazy like you said, Dunner.”

I toss the broken glass in the trash.

“Tell me how this happened,” Eli demands, rotating on the barstool to face her.

“When I rolled down the driveway to deliver her food, I couldn’t stop and skidded into the garden, taking out at least three bushes of flowers and then I cut my ankle, so she got me a Band-Aid?—”

I cock an eyebrow. I thought she was afraid of blood.

The fucking liar.

“Anyway, it turns out she ordered a ton of food—like it was all over the counters. And I was the last one to show up, and I made a comment asking if she was having company and she said, no, just hungry and couldn’t decide what she wanted to eat so she got a little of everything.

Then I made a joke about her probably wishing there was a Cheesecake Factory in town and she said, ah yes, variety at its finest.”

Eli chuckles, and I continue to zero in on Lucy’s retelling that is explaining absolutely nothing.

“Anyway, I thanked her for the tip because it was actually a lot—like twenty bucks when you know everyone usually just adds a dollar or two. Anyway, I thanked her and told her why tips are important, and she said she’d order food three times a week and tip me enough to pay for the lens.

” She pauses with a huff. “Do you know what this means?”

“She’s going to be eating a lot of food?” I mutter.

“No! I will have the lens by the eclipse!”

“That’s great, sweetie,” Eli says. “It’s going to feel good to work for something you want. I know how long you’ve been saving.”

“Oh, come on, Eli. Just buy the lens. Don’t make her deliver biscuits to Dr. Death three times a week.” My eyes practically roll onto the floor. Then I turn to Lucy. “How much money do you need?”

“One-hundred-and-forty-three dollars and twenty-three cents is what I have left to save,” she answers.

I open the till, grab two hundred-dollar bills, and slide them across the counter.

Her eyes widen at the crisp bills.

“No, Dunner. She has to work for this,” Eli says, slamming a soft fist on the bar top.

“Come on, Eli? You’re going to make her spend extra time with some lunatic and call it work?”

“She’s not a lunatic, Dunner. She’s a very nice lady.”

She is. She’s incredibly nice. With skin like silk and a mouth like?—

No.

I watch the storm settle behind Eli’s eyes. He doesn’t do bailouts—hell, he doesn’t even do favors—and he sure as hell doesn’t like to be questioned about his parenting.

“Let her do the work so she can accomplish the goal she made for herself,” he says calmly.

I shake my head, taking the bills back. Lucy’s eyes follow, and her fingers seem to be itching to snatch them off the counter.

“Well, then she can help out around here, and I’ll pay her.”

Eli stares pointedly. “She’s twelve. She can’t work in a bar.”

“We’re closed. She can unload the dishwashers and slice the limes.”

“How much do you pay?” Lucy asks.

“Two hundred bucks an hour.”

Eli grits his teeth. “You are really going to beat this dead horse to the ground, aren’t you?”

I shrug. “What dead horse?”

He clears his throat and throws back the rest of his beer. “I’m out of here. I’ll see you at the house, Luc. Mom is making tacos tonight.” Then he turns to me. “Pick a different hill to die on, Dunner. This one is a waste of time.”

He leaves the bar, and Lucy stares at me. “So, when can I start?”

“Monday. We’re closed,” I answer. “But also…” I slide my phone with the Amazon app open to her. “Order the lens. We’ll figure out the money later.”

“Dunner, Dad will?—”

“Dad won’t know.”

“This feels like lying,” she offers timidly.

“It is lying. But like, it’s a forgivable lie,” I counter .

She squints at me and crosses her arms. “According to who?”

“Me,” I answer. “Look, Eli is like my brother. I’m practically your uncle. He is not going to hold it against me or you for working a shift at the bar on Monday and buying the lens you need for your camera.”

“Fine,” she says, reluctantly grabbing my phone and ordering the lens. “But if I get grounded, you have to be grounded with me.”

“How will that even work?”

“I don’t know, but I will find a way to make sure you’re miserable.

” She sings the last bit, typing in her address and then hitting Complete Order with a sassy finger.

She slides my phone back to me. “Like, maybe tell Vada that you are crazy about her but you don’t know what to do because all this stuff with your mom and the will is making you develop egregious feelings toward her. ”

“Egregious? What?”

She sighs with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “Men really don’t get any better with age, do they?”

I snort out a laugh, knowing she’s about to divulge some profound twelve-year-old wisdom.

“They’re mean when they want to flirt. And flirt to be mean.

They never say what they feel exactly but dance around the issue like a Riverdancer from the nineties.

They’re ninety-seven percent full of crap unless you can find the rare man that will own up to the choices he makes and choose the life he wants to live, man up, and take care of the life he’s created. ”

I stare at her, stunned. “You are becoming your mother.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not. I love your mom.”

She grins. “See you Monday, Dunner. And thank you!”

Lucy skips out of the bar, and I watch her in disbelief. I don’t know who made the observation about me and how I feel about Vada. Whether it be Eli, Joelle, or Lucy, it’s not true. Vada can’t sexy harlot me into falling for her. This is a Delilah and Samson scheme if I ever saw one .

I want nothing to do with her, and I want her to have nothing to do with my people.

Flipping on the espresso machine, I brew two shots of espresso to add to my coffee, preparing me for the night shift. As I do, I swipe my phone open to send her a text.

Me

Don’t have Lucy deliver food to you. I’m taking care of the lens. You can back off.

Back off may have been a rude touch, but whatever, it’s sent, I can’t undo it. I rip open two Splendas and add them to the hot espresso shots as my phone buzzes with a notification. I finish stirring the black coffee into the espresso before opening it to see her response.

She thumbs-ups the message. My ears heat with annoyance.

But I have no time to dwell on it. I sip my coffee and flip the neon Open light on and carry on with another slow night at the bar.