Page 2 of True Honey (The Hornets Nest #4)

COURTNEY

“ I t gets busy here on game nights, so prepping’s important.

” The brunette pointed at the trays of empty salt shakers stacked at the end of the bar.

For the life of me, I couldn’t remember her name.

It was something with a K but by the time she had walked me around the main floor of the sports bar I had forgotten anything past that, and she wasn’t wearing a name tag.

“There’s little breaks during the weekdays when we fill them, but don’t stress over it too much, if you don’t get to it, someone will,” she said.

I nodded and took the time to survey my new surroundings.

Hilly’s was the only bar on campus, or close to it, I couldn’t quite remember what she had said in her welcome speech.

But it was clear that they took the celebration of their sports teams seriously.

With packed walls of history, every team had its moments framed eternally on the walls for everyone to see.

It was entertaining to see such deep roots, most of the places August and I stopped in were ghost towns, nothing there but an older population just hoping that a tourist would get lost in their small town.

Harbor was immediately different. In the last two days of being here, I’ve noticed that everyone seemed to know someone, there were connections and friendships in every place I looked.

The grocery store was teeming with people chatting about their lives, the bank was bustling with conversation about how everyone’s children were growing too fast.

It felt like we’d driven straight into the Twilight Zone: East Coast edition.

“On game nights we separate the tables a little differently because upstairs is VIP only. For now, I’ll keep working that section, it’s been a while since we had a new hire and it’ll take time to work you into the rotation,” she explained.

“Plus the stairs take some getting used to, especially when ten drunk hockey players are yelling like they own the air you breathe.” She rolled her eyes.

“Are they bad? I’ve never worked in a college town.” I confessed. I had nearly fifteen years of waitressing and managed to stick to smaller cafes, local diners and family-owned restaurants. But the tips of a bar forward restaurant called to me. I needed the money.

“Oh,” she sighed and swung around me to the back of the bar to grab something, she whipped out a binder that was full of plastic filing sheets and threw it open. “This is the binder of shame.”

“The what?” I leaned over the counter as she turned it toward me. Each plastic page had a shabby polaroid photo shoved inside with notes written on all sorts of paper, napkins, receipts…

“When a customer is rude or handsy, they get put in the binder. It’s mostly so the part-time girls can warn everyone else.

They work the busiest nights on the main floor, and it can get rowdy in here.

The baseball team isn’t bad, but stay clear of this one,” she said, pointing to a picture of a guy whose eyes were wide with shock as the flash blinded him.

“That’s Colton Todd, he’s a well I didn’t hear you say no , type of handsy. ”

“Lovely,” I said, swallowing tightly.

“The football team has its moments, if they win they’re all in here, and they’re all drunk. It’s the running backs you have to watch, they think catching balls and scoring touchdowns makes them God’s gift to the earth. But this isn’t a football town,” she said.

East coast, no, Harbor , was a hockey town.

“The hockey boys—” she sighed, “but only the college boys. Harbor has a minor league and an NHL team, you won’t see the professional guys in here often but you can always tell the difference.

Just stick to the bar when the team is here, at least for now.

I don’t need a lawsuit during your first week of work. ”

“Gotcha,” I said, “stay away from literally every man in the bar.”

“Now you’re getting it,” she said with a small laugh. Maybe there was hope for me to make some friends here in the long run. But I wasn’t going to get ahead of myself, one day at a time. That’s all I could promise myself.

“What other sports are there at Harbor?” I asked, just trying to reroute my thoughts.

“Lacrosse, soccer, water polo, basketball, rugby—” she shrugged, “the list is endless. Harbor is a massive hub for sports.”

“It sounds like it.” I flipped the pages in the book and took in some of the drunk faces.

“Don’t worry, most of them go easy on the new girls,” she said with a smile.

“You’ll get your first taste of busy on Tuesday,” she said, sliding the binder away under the counter.

“It’s Hornet’s game night,” she whispered like someone was listening.

“If we’re lucky, they’ll keep the rowdiness to Delta, the party house on campus. ”

“I suddenly feel very old,” I laughed and carded my fingers through my hair tugging the red strands back until it was pulled into a long ponytail at the back of my head.

“That’s the best part of Harbor, it's a melting pot of old and young. The workforce is older, they’ve been here for years, grinding and fostering a space for the young to grow and thrive,” she said.

“Is that the speech you give every new employee?” I chuckled.

“Oh god no, the last girl was an absolute idiot, she quit her first shift. But you,” she said, her eyes narrowing on me. “I like you.”

“You can tell that after…” I pause, looking up at the clock on the wall, “forty two minutes?”

“I could tell when you showed up to the interview,” she said and scrunched her nose at me.

“Okay moving on,” she said, clapping her hands together.

“Trevor comes by and changes out all the barrels for the beer so we don’t have to worry about most of that but if you notice anything weird with the tubes, his number is…

” she did a spin and pointed to a little taped on label by the register, “right there. He’s also the bouncer on busy nights so he’s around more often than not, I’ll introduce you on Tuesday. ”

“Alright,” I brushed my hands on the back of my jeans nervously.

“Deep breath, it’s usually like this in here,” she said and I looked around at the empty bar.

There were a couple eating dinner in the back and a few students crammed into a booth studying over french fries but for the most part the restaurant was empty.

“It picks up on weeknights, but otherwise? Easy.”

“You make everything sound simple,” I said softly.

“It can be,” she replied. “Touch POS system, you have a notepad?” she asked and I nodded. “Good, then you’ll be fine.”

“What about a name tag?” I asked her, hoping she’d forgotten hers and that she would put it on so I could remember her name.

“Oh hell no, we don’t do that here. Name tags are a surefire way to get college age boys to stalk you. If they’re brave enough to ask your name, sure, but I’d give a fake one more often than not. Not many people actually know my name.” She laughed.

Please remind me, I thought but followed her behind the bar. She stopped, looking for something but waving off her thought as the bell above the door rang.

A tall man sauntered in, tie loose, eyes glued to his phone.

“Hey Si,” she said to him as he wandered by with his head down. His jaw was set tight with what might have been concentration to the passing eye, but I knew the grinding of teeth too well to recognize it as anything other than worry.

He sat down at the long bar that ran along the back of the restaurant. When he finally laid his phone down, he looked up at her and smiled. “Hey Kayla, can I get a whiskey?” He asked.

Kayla! That was her name.

She pointed to the salt shakers and made an awkward filing motion with her hands as she went to move around the bar. I popped the lids on the salt shaker and tried not to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Not used to seeing you in here on a Wednesday,” Kayla pulled a bottle from under the cabinet that looked nicer than the rest and poured the amber liquid into a small glass. She set it on the counter as the man rolled his shoulders back.

“There’s a first for everything,” he raised the glass at her and threw it back in one shot, leaving her to fill it more.

“Anything I can help with?” She asked him, flicking her long hair over her shoulder she filled the glass again and leaned over the bar until she was closer to his face.

He smiled at her and the lines around his gray eyes crinkled in amusement.

He pressed the glass to his bottom lip considering her proposal.

It was clear what she was offering and for a moment I thought he might take her up on it.

It was painfully obvious how attracted he was to her, his body showed all the signs; leaning in, offering laughter, fidgeting with his glass but he sighed, taking it down again in another shot, “not tonight,” he hummed.

“Oh now I know something's wrong, you never turn that down,” Kayla rested her face in the palm of her hand on the bar and batted her long lashes at him. “I know things have been stressful but—”

He chuckled, “This is bigger than that,” he wet his bottom lip and ran a hand through his dark hair exposing some of the gray that peppered through it. “There’s no stress relief for this problem.”

“Now that, I don’t believe,” Kayla purred. “You’re the best stress reliever in Harbor.”

His eyes watched the way her fingers danced against her jaw, his body going tense for a moment before he set his glass back down for her and she poured him more.

Suddenly, I became acutely aware that this conversation wasn’t meant for me and went back to the salt shakers.

My mind wandered to August, sitting in the car in the parking lot with his headphones blasting and reminded myself that filling salt shakers was the best I could do right now.

Thirty-five years old. A career waitress.

A son who hated my guts. And depression so deep it could eat me alive.

It could be worse , I thought. She could have told you that they weren’t hiring . At least here, I would make tips on busy nights that would pad the wallet enough for me to get August and I, a hotel room for a few nights until I found an apartment we could afford.

“Careful,” His voice broke through my thoughts and I looked down to see I was spilling salt all over the counter.

“Shit.”