know if that was true, because Boomer never talked about himself or his past, but, given his size, she could believe it.
“Let’s see,” she said, tapping the short stack of bills on the bar top. “The table full of Heathers who ogled the musicians all night and sucked down three hundred bucks’ worth of Bellinis left five bucks, and that son of a bitch Earl Joffrey”—Earl Joffrey was a local newscaster with a reputation at Jico for being the worst tipper ever—“literally left the coins from his change. Seventy-six cents.”
“Did you give him his change in ones?” Boomer asked, hauling a rack of mugs to the sink. “If you change him big bills instead of small ones, he gets pissed.”
“I know that. I gave him seventeen ones.”
Boomer drained a half-empty beer bottle and tossed it into the recycling bin with a clang. “And seventy-six cents.”
She gave a dry laugh. “Yeah, and seventy-six cents. The cheap jerk. Don’t watch Channel Six news.”
“Never do.”
“Me neither.” Tod, one of Lorna’s coworkers, stopped and set a check down on the bar top. “Last one of the night. Thirty-four percent tip. I saw Earl Joffrey coming, and I just prayed he wouldn’t sit in my section.” He gave Lorna an affectionate nudge. “Sorry, baby.”
She rolled her eyes and put an arm around his rock star–thin waist. “You are not.”
“No, I’m not.” He gave her a squeeze. “Because I have got a date tonight.”
“Now? It’s so late!”
“Not for all of us, Mom.” Tod gave a laugh.
She remembered feeling that way about dates. It seemed like a hundred years ago.
“I met the most amazing guy,” Tod went on. “We’re meeting at Stetson’s at one-thirty. Then…who knows?”
“ I know.”
“You got me.” Tod cracked up. Here was one guy who was totally comfortable with letting it all hang out. “Hey, live, love, laugh, and get laid, right?”
She mentally checked off which items she was not currently doing and got even more depressed, but she kissed Tod good-bye and told him to have extra fun for her. She had little doubt that he would do it.
“I don’t know about that guy,” Boomer said when Tod had left. “I hope he’s being careful.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve had the Talk with him. He’s a slut, but he’s a cautious slut. I, on the other hand, am a tired nun.”
“At least that’ll keep you healthy.” Boomer gave her an affectionate smile.
“There’s that.” She sighed and put her money into her purse. “I’m going home.” She stood up. “Pass the word along that I’m looking to take over extra shifts, would you? If anyone wants me to cover for them, give them my number.”
Boomer, who had been drying a wineglass, stopped and considered her. “Are you in some sort of trouble, kid? Something more than just being tired and single?”
Lorna smiled. “No, everything’s fine. Really.”
He looked unconvinced. “So what’s with the need for extra work? If you need a loan, I could—”
“Oh, God, no.” She laughed. “Boomer, you are so sweet, but no, thank you.” Why he was so financially stable, she’d never understand. It probably had more to do with his NFL past than his bartending gig, that was for sure. “I’m working more to try and pay things off .”
“Ah.” He nodded sagely. “Credit cards?”
“And how.”
He paused, then said, “I don’t want to butt in where it’s none of my business, honey, but there was a fella in here a couple of weeks ago who works as a credit counselor. Ever heard of that?”
A credit counselor. Sounded like something that would cost $150 an hour. And take credit cards. “What, exactly, does a credit counselor do?”
Boomer smiled. “Drinks a lot of Fuzzy Navels, for one thing. But what he said is his company helps people with debt to consolidate it and get lower interest rates.”
She thought of the two credit cards she had at twenty-nine percent and sat back down. “Really? How?”
“He told me
“Let’s see,” she said, tapping the short stack of bills on the bar top. “The table full of Heathers who ogled the musicians all night and sucked down three hundred bucks’ worth of Bellinis left five bucks, and that son of a bitch Earl Joffrey”—Earl Joffrey was a local newscaster with a reputation at Jico for being the worst tipper ever—“literally left the coins from his change. Seventy-six cents.”
“Did you give him his change in ones?” Boomer asked, hauling a rack of mugs to the sink. “If you change him big bills instead of small ones, he gets pissed.”
“I know that. I gave him seventeen ones.”
Boomer drained a half-empty beer bottle and tossed it into the recycling bin with a clang. “And seventy-six cents.”
She gave a dry laugh. “Yeah, and seventy-six cents. The cheap jerk. Don’t watch Channel Six news.”
“Never do.”
“Me neither.” Tod, one of Lorna’s coworkers, stopped and set a check down on the bar top. “Last one of the night. Thirty-four percent tip. I saw Earl Joffrey coming, and I just prayed he wouldn’t sit in my section.” He gave Lorna an affectionate nudge. “Sorry, baby.”
She rolled her eyes and put an arm around his rock star–thin waist. “You are not.”
“No, I’m not.” He gave her a squeeze. “Because I have got a date tonight.”
“Now? It’s so late!”
“Not for all of us, Mom.” Tod gave a laugh.
She remembered feeling that way about dates. It seemed like a hundred years ago.
“I met the most amazing guy,” Tod went on. “We’re meeting at Stetson’s at one-thirty. Then…who knows?”
“ I know.”
“You got me.” Tod cracked up. Here was one guy who was totally comfortable with letting it all hang out. “Hey, live, love, laugh, and get laid, right?”
She mentally checked off which items she was not currently doing and got even more depressed, but she kissed Tod good-bye and told him to have extra fun for her. She had little doubt that he would do it.
“I don’t know about that guy,” Boomer said when Tod had left. “I hope he’s being careful.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve had the Talk with him. He’s a slut, but he’s a cautious slut. I, on the other hand, am a tired nun.”
“At least that’ll keep you healthy.” Boomer gave her an affectionate smile.
“There’s that.” She sighed and put her money into her purse. “I’m going home.” She stood up. “Pass the word along that I’m looking to take over extra shifts, would you? If anyone wants me to cover for them, give them my number.”
Boomer, who had been drying a wineglass, stopped and considered her. “Are you in some sort of trouble, kid? Something more than just being tired and single?”
Lorna smiled. “No, everything’s fine. Really.”
He looked unconvinced. “So what’s with the need for extra work? If you need a loan, I could—”
“Oh, God, no.” She laughed. “Boomer, you are so sweet, but no, thank you.” Why he was so financially stable, she’d never understand. It probably had more to do with his NFL past than his bartending gig, that was for sure. “I’m working more to try and pay things off .”
“Ah.” He nodded sagely. “Credit cards?”
“And how.”
He paused, then said, “I don’t want to butt in where it’s none of my business, honey, but there was a fella in here a couple of weeks ago who works as a credit counselor. Ever heard of that?”
A credit counselor. Sounded like something that would cost $150 an hour. And take credit cards. “What, exactly, does a credit counselor do?”
Boomer smiled. “Drinks a lot of Fuzzy Navels, for one thing. But what he said is his company helps people with debt to consolidate it and get lower interest rates.”
She thought of the two credit cards she had at twenty-nine percent and sat back down. “Really? How?”
“He told me
Similar Books
