Kickstart My Heart (Burgers and Brew Crüe Book 1) Page 2

  And maybe ask him to say it again.

  “Well, Mallory, we’ll let you go. You’ll meet the rest of the team tomorrow morning. See you at ten,” Isaac says cheerfully, throwing me a little wave.

  “Thank you, Mr. Thompson,” I reply, turning back to the doorway.

  Isaac chuckles behind me. “Just Isaac, Mallory. Isaac is fine.”

  “Right. Sorry.” I feel a slight blush return to my cheeks as I give him a quick grin and fly out the door. I don’t look back at the other eyes, even though I can feel them on me. Instead, I keep my gaze locked forward, as it should be. My motto is don’t look back, and I’m trying to stick to it. Lord knows, my past is nothing to look back on willingly.

  I hop into my beat-up Ford Escape and head toward my apartment. It’s on the edge of town, just a short ten-minute drive to my new place of employment. It’s somewhat mild for late August, which I’m grateful for, since the air-conditioning works at fifty percent on a good day. Instead of grumbling about the temperature of air filtering through, I opt to roll down the windows and let the warm breeze blow my hair.

  Smiling, I think back to my interview. I was so stinking nervous. I haven’t had to do a formal interview in forever. My last two jobs were cashier at our local grocery store and merchandise stocker at the farm supply store. Both positions I was offered without so much as a glance at my application, much less a reference check. See, my hometown of Gibson, Indiana was small enough where everyone knew everyone, and if you didn’t know someone, there was always another employee willing to vouch for you. That’s what you get with a town of twenty-four hundred.

  The best part about today’s interview was the position. Day shift server. That never would have happened in Gibson. All the best shifts are taken by the older servers, and all the later shifts are for those with less seniority. Those usually involved less hours. I always fell in the last category.

  As I pull into the dinky apartment parking lot, with potholes the size of buckets, I recall the moment my eyes met Walker’s. There was definitely something there. Lust. I could see it written all over his handsome face. I’m not oblivious to the look a man gives a woman when he’s thinking about getting her naked. Hell, not that long ago, I was used to seeing that look on a man who I thought adored and cherished me.

  Boy, was I wrong.

  Rolling up the windows, I slip out of my car and make sure it’s locked. This apartment is in a somewhat questionable part of town, but I can’t beat the price. Rent and utilities for a two-bedroom, one bath, third-floor apartment for only four hundred a month. You just have to ignore the stained carpet, the yellowed linoleum and ceilings from cigarette smoke, and the window air-conditioning unit that sounds like a plane landing in the living room.

  It’s home.

  I’m making the best of this fresh start.

  I hit the dollar store and bought carpet cleaner, some scrub brushes, and a few rugs. I can’t afford to repaint it yet, but I’m hoping after a few weeks’ worth of tips, I’ll have some extra cash saved up for those little details. The landlord made it very clear he wasn’t worried about splashing some paint on the walls, so instead of complaining about the dinginess of the space, I decided to take it upon myself to help spruce it up.

  As I hit the concrete steps, I slip my hand into my purse and pull out my keys. The front door is propped open, the tenants apparently more concerned about airing out the hallways than their own safety if the wrong person snuck in. I push those thoughts out of my head, though, and head up the stairs. When I hit the platform for the second floor, I make my way down the short hallway to the last apartment on the left. Number 205.

  I knock loudly over the sounds of Wheel of Fortune coming through the old wooden door. “Just a minute!” the deep, older voice hollers.

  The moment the door is unlocked and opened, I smile. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Fritz.”

  She shuffles back, granting me entrance. “Hey, Mallory. How’d the interview go?”

  “Really well,” I tell her, entering the apartment that’s identical to my own. “I got the job. I start tomorrow.” I’m all smiles now, anxious to start earning my own paycheck again.

  Mrs. Fritz grins, her aging eyes crinkled at the corners. “Oh, I’m glad,” she replies, shuffling toward her old rocking chair.

  “Mama!” The sweetest sound ever fills the living room as my daughter comes running toward me.

  “Hi, Lizzie Lou. Did you have fun with Mrs. Fritz?”

  She nods, her big green eyes sparkling and her blonde pigtails bobbing.

  “She was an angel, like usual,” Mrs. Fritz adds. She’s only watched my daughter on two other occasions, but now that I have my job, she’ll be helping me out regularly.

  “Why don’t you go clean up the dollies and then we’ll go home, okay?”

  Lizzie nods, running off to the second bedroom where Mrs. Fritz set up a small twin-sized bed and some old garage sale toys for the kids she babysits. “She was no trouble?” I ask, taking a seat on the floral couch that’s older than me by a good decade.

  “None, dear. She’s a good girl.”

  I instantly smile at the compliment. Even though I might be a tad biased, I think Lizzie is a wonderful little girl. Smart, funny, and compassionate, even at the young age of three. “I’m glad to hear it. Are we okay to start tomorrow on a regular basis?”

  “Yes, I’m good. Just as long as you remember I have Bingo at the community center on Wednesdays at four thirty. I never miss Bingo.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem. I get off work at four, and I’ll buzz straight here to get her. You’ll be sitting in that folding chair by the time the first ball is called,” I assure her, praying I’m right. Isaac said it’s rare I’d have to stay past my four o’clock quitting time.

  “Well, if anything ever happens, I supposed I could drop her off to you.”

  “We’ll call that our backup plan, Mrs. Fritz. I’ll do everything in my power to get here by four-fifteen so you can get to Bingo.”

  The older woman nods. “I appreciate that, dear. Coverall is creeping up again. Last time it got up to six hundred dollars before someone won it.”

  Wow, six hundred dollars. What I could do with that money. Hell, I wouldn’t even complain about half of that amount. Anything to put more food on the table and make sure Lizzie has what she needs. What little savings I had went toward our move. Burgers and Brew was the third place I applied to and the first offer I received. I’d be silly not to take it, at least for now. I can rebuild my savings, and maybe then, if it’s not working out, I can find another job. Until then, I’m all-in as a day shift server at the local gourmet burger restaurant.

  “I’ll run and check on Lizzie and help her clean up her mess,” I say to the old woman watching the television.

  When I slip inside the small bedroom, I find my daughter throwing the last doll into the basket. I grin as she heads my way, her arms already extended up. “Thank you for picking up. You’re such a good girl,” I say before kissing her small cheek. She giggles as I use my nose to tickle the side of her neck.

  “Mama, stop it!” Her laughter makes me smile and fills my heart with joy. My daughter’s happiness is my only goal in this life. To love and protect her, to give her the life she deserves.

  The one we’re creating here, in Stewart Grove.

  “Okay, Mrs. Fritz, I’ll see you tomorrow morning at nine forty.” I wave at the woman and lock the door behind me as I go.

  Even with the open doors downstairs, the second floor is humid and stuffy. I can only imagine what the third floor is going to feel like. As we trudge up the old, dirty steps, Lizzie tells me all about her short time with Mrs. Fritz. I slip my key in the knob and release the lock, grateful to be inside. The air isn’t much cooler, but it’s better.

  After relocking the door and sliding the chain into place, I say, “Let’s go see what we have for a snack.”

  Lizzie grins from ear to ear. “Cheese!”

  I chuckle as we h
ead into the tiny kitchen, my foot catching on the corner of the ripped, worn linoleum. There isn’t much in the fridge, but there’s enough to get us through a few days. I’m hoping the tips start rolling in tomorrow, and we can restock the cabinets and fridge quickly.

  Finding a cheddar and Colby jack cheese stick, I remove it from the wrapper, help my daughter hop up on her booster seat on one of the two chairs left by the previous tenant. No, they don’t match the table, but I don’t care. We have a place to sit and eat, and it didn’t cost me anything. I’m hoping I’ll be able to paint that too, when money starts to come in.

  I cleaned out my checking and savings to move here. Not that I had a lot to begin with, but it was enough to secure this apartment with first and last month’s rent, as well as give me the gas money I needed for the trip. We didn’t bring much, just whatever I could fit in my car.

  Not that I wanted much from my old life anyway.

  Shaking off the unpleasantries of what I left behind, I glance down at my daughter. “Would you like some milk?” Lizzie nods eagerly, taking another bite of her cheese. When I pour the small glass, I take the empty seat beside her. “Tomorrow Mommy starts her new job. That means you get to go play with Mrs. Fritz again. Is that okay?”

  Light green eyes gaze up at me. She seems to think about my question before nodding her approval.

  “Good. And tomorrow, when I get off work, we’ll go to Walmart and grab a few more things for your room. Sound good?”

  “Yay!” she exclaims, her blonde pigtails bouncing as she gets excited to go shopping.

  Smiling, I reach over and swipe a strand of hair off her forehead. “Finish your cheese and milk, and then I’ll turn on a movie, okay?” She agrees, and I just sit there and watch as she sips her milk like a big girl from her favorite purple cup and shoves the last of her cheese stick into her mouth.

  When she’s cleaned up, we head into the living room. I was able to bring the old twenty-seven-inch television from our old place, along with a well-used DVD player. Lizzie goes over and picks out a Care Bears movie, grabs her purple blanket, and curls up on the couch. I know she’ll be out in a matter of minutes.

  While my daughter takes a nap, I wash dishes in the sink and prepare for dinner. Mac and cheese and hotdogs. Again. But they’re cheap and easy, and Lizzie loves them. There’s a noticeable pile of dirty clothes on my bedroom floor, but I hate the idea of leaving Lizzie up here unattended, even to just run down to the basement to start a load of laundry, but considering I only have one pair of black pants, I’m definitely going to need to have to bite the bullet. Maybe when she’s asleep I can lock her in here and run down to start a load. It won’t take very long, as long as I have everything sorted up here and ready to go.

  I glance around my bedroom, which consists of two opened boxes of clothes that also serves as my dresser. There were a few wire hangers left in the closet, and after I rebent them into shape, I was able to hang a few shirts to hopefully help with wrinkle control. Mentally, I add hangers to the growing list of merchandise I’m going to need from the store.

  Slipping off the black pants and white button-down shirt I wore to my interview, I hang them back up to wear again tomorrow and throw on a pair of legging capris and a fitted T-shirt. I’ll have to provide my own pants for work, but Isaac assured me they’ll have five polo shirts ready for me when I arrive tomorrow. I’m grateful I don’t have to go out and buy clothes to start the job.

  The job.

  My mind returns to Walker. Those eyes were the most brilliant blue eyes I’ve ever seen. Like sapphires sparkling under the Caribbean sun. Throw in chiseled arms and hair a woman could get her fingers tangled in, and you have a recipe for trouble.

  But I shake it off.

  I have no business thinking about him, or any man for that matter. Especially not Walker, who’s basically one of my bosses. I just left behind one I thought was a good guy, who ended up being anything but. My heart starts to race as I think about Devon and the trouble he caused. Of the damage he’s done. Of the fact I could have very easily lost my daughter.

  I blink back tears and leave my empty bedroom. After making sure Lizzie is still sound asleep on the couch, I slip into the bathroom to take a quick shower. Usually I take one before bed, but I could definitely use it right now, especially since I know the tears are coming and there’s no way to stop them.

  When I’m alone in the small room and the water is hot—or as hot as I can get it— I finally let them fall unchecked from my eyes. I cry for the life I wanted for my daughter. The one I thought we had but was stripped away in a single moment. I cry for the fact I was naïve and dumb and didn’t see Devon for who he really was. And I cry for the future and the big question mark it possesses.

  Finally, when the tears subside, I wash my face and my body and get out. I grab a towel to dry off, only to put on the clothes I just took off once more. I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are tired from lack of sleep and worry, but I’m determined. I’ll make a good life, a better life, for Lizzie and me. I’ll start my new job tomorrow and earn enough to get settled. Lizzie and I will be fine.

  I know it.

  Chapter Three

  Walker

  “I hired two new servers today,” Numbers announces, as he takes the last empty seat at our table of four.

  My mind instantly goes back to the beautiful blonde I met in the hallway. The one who’s pushed her way to the front and center of my mind no less than three times already, and it’s only been an hour.

  “Finally. Do they have experience?” Jasper asks, sipping his water before pushing the fourth plate of food over to Isaac.

  “Both do, yes. They start tomorrow. Gigi will be ready for them,” he says before taking a hearty bite of his burger. “Mmm, what’s this?”

  “I call it the Morning BJ,” Jasper announces with a wicked grin. All of our burgers have an unusual, and somewhat sexually laced innuendo name to them.

  Isaac slowly chews, glancing at the ingredients between the bun. “Is that…”

  “Jam? It is. Bacon and jam, hence the BJ. It’s onion jam, which is slightly sugared and caramelized onions. I played around with it all night last night, until I got it just right,” Jasper says, taking his own bite, slowly chewing and clearly critiquing his masterpiece.

  “I really like it,” I tell him, already halfway through my burger.

  “Me too,” Jameson mumbles, his mouth full of food. But Jameson likes just about anything.

  “I’m thinking of introducing it in this weekend’s menu.”

  “Definitely,” Isaac agrees. “I can get my sister to work on a graphic for social media. Maybe even some teaser ones leading up to it Friday night,” Isaac adds, already inputting notes into his phone. His sister, Hannah, helps with our social media accounts, constantly posting and keeping our pages fresh. Apparently, that’s pretty important, but I couldn’t care less. Sure, I have a Facebook page, but I’m barely on it. Most of my posts are tags from one of my friends.

  “I’ll make up a fresh burger after we finish our meeting so you can photograph it,” Jasper replies.

  “Sounds good. Now, anything you want to add for this weekend on the bar side?” Isaac asks, his eyes meeting mine.

  Clearing my throat, I wipe my mouth, my wheels starting to turn. We rarely offer deals in the bar, mostly because we don’t have to. We don’t need a sale or special to draw in the customers, but we will offer them on occasion, especially when we debut a new burger special. “Well, since your hamburger is titled Morning BJ, how about the blow job shot?”

  This particular shot is popular for girls’ nights or bachelorette parties. Even though there are a few different ways to make it, our recipe consists of half an ounce Kahlua, half an ounce of Bailey’s Irish Cream, and a dollop of whipped cream on top. The catch to the blow job shot is you’re supposed to take the shot without using your hands. So, girls will set the shot glass on the counter, wrap their lips around the glass, and guzzle the b
ooze, usually leaving a small trace of the whipped cream on their lips.

  Blow job shot.

  “What are those priced at?” Isaac asks.

  “Five,” I confirm.

  “Will a dollar off still cover our expenses?” he asks.

  “Definitely. Both liquors are popular enough, I’ll probably amend the order I just placed to add another two bottles of each,” I add, swiping a fry through mustard and popping it into my mouth.

  “Sounds like a plan,” Isaac replies, making more notes in his phone. “I’ll have Hannah add it to the graphic.”

  He moves on to music, asking Jameson about his set for Friday night. We usually publicize a few songs from his set to grab potential patrons’ attention. But like the rest of the business, we don’t have to promote it too much. Jameson draws a crowd all on his own on Fridays, with or without mentioning a few of the songs he’ll be performing.

  Isaac goes through our numbers for most of August, complete with bar graphs and pie charts. While the bottom line is important to me, as long as it’s in the black, I’m good. I focus on the numbers for my side of the business. Summers are a double-edged sword. Everyone is out and about, enjoying the beautiful weather, but then at the same time, there tends to be more activities we’re competing with. Fairs and festivals, sporting events, and family vacations can put a damper on our numbers, but by the looks of things, August of this year was better than August of the last five years.

  I know because Numbers added a graph for that too.

  When the meeting is over, we clean up our mess and prepare for the early dinner rush. We do a lot of take-out orders between four thirty and five thirty, including curbside pickup, which we just started earlier this year. I don’t pay too close attention to all the details, but one of the servers gets a small table section and is in charge of managing the curbside pickups, which are scheduled fifteen minutes apart.