Just Roommates

by Ferrell, Charity

  “I’ll hire you to renovate the pub.”

  My breathing catches. “What?”

  “The pub hasn’t been updated in fuck knows how long. Renovate it … work your magic.”

  Excitement ripples through me, causing me to grin, and I squeal, clapping my hands. “I would love that! I’ve already thought of ideas of how I’d change things if ever given the opportunity.” I needed something to do to pass the time when Maliki left me to make someone a drink.

  I suddenly remember the conversation I planned to have with him this morning. Even with his offer, one job won’t exactly load my bank account. Plus, I can’t charge him as much as Devin’s dad did his clients.

  “You know …” I pause. “I have my bartending license.”

  He stills. “What?”

  “I have my bartending license. I bartended on campus my senior year for extra cash.”

  Even though my parents paid my tuition and a chunk of my bills, I worked two jobs. Most of that money went toward the down payment for the condo.

  “Your parents were okay with that?” he asks skeptically, raising his brows.

  “Hell no.”

  My father would’ve flipped his shit.

  A grin twitches at his lips. “How’d you manage to hide that from them?”

  “Told them I was tutoring.” I hold up a finger. “Which, technically, wasn’t a lie. I was tutoring. It just wasn’t where most of my cash came from.”

  “What about now? If I hire you, there’s no lying about tutoring. This is a small town, princess … and you’re you.”

  “Their opinions are the least of my worries. My father ruined our family name with his little affair, so I can’t do any worse damage. Plus, a change would be nice.” I’ll also be able to hang out with you.

  He taps the countertop. “Lucky for you, my sister is leaving for a few weeks. You can take her bartending shifts. When she comes back, I’ll have to move you to waitressing.”

  Shit. I forgot about Liz.

  He laughs, as if catching on to my thoughts. “Don’t worry. I told her to be nice.”

  Ugh, I’m not three. You don’t have to force someone to be nice to me. “So, I’m hired?”

  A slight smile hits his lips. “Why not? Looks like you scored yourself two jobs today.”

  “When do I start?” I ask eagerly.

  “Whenever you want. I planned to ask Mikey to cover her shift tonight if you’re game?”

  “That works.” It’ll take my mind away from the chaos of my life. I give him a wide grin and bounce on my tiptoes.

  He laughs. “Look at you, Jailbait. You’re redecorating the pub, slinging drinks, and cleaning like a boss. Is there anything you can’t do?”

  “Keep a man.”

  “No. A man can’t keep you.”

  * * *

  “Any brilliant ideas yet?” Maliki asks, stopping next to me.

  I grin. “You have no idea how many I’ll pitch to you. You might regret hiring me.”

  “As long as you don’t remove the authenticity and create a replica of the club you worked in the city, I trust you.”

  “I’d never.”

  With the little clients I’ve had, I’ve never forced my styles onto them. They tell me what they’re looking for, and I bounce ideas off that.

  “It needs to keep that easygoing vibe. And brace yourself … there’s shopping.”

  “Shopping?” He groans dramatically. “Don’t I write you a check, and you do all the work?”

  “We can do it that way, but I don’t suggest it. This is your bar, your baby, Maliki. I prefer you have a voice in the changes. You’re looking at it for the rest of your life, not me.” I signal to the empty bar. “I promise, nothing crazy.” I clap him on the back. “We’ll look at paint, furniture, decor. It’ll be fun.”

  “Oh fuck, I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

  “Hiring me is one of the smartest moves you’ve ever made.”

  I proceed around the room, jotting down ideas, for an hour. When I’m finished, Maliki gives me a tour of the bar and explains everything that happens behind the scenes. I’m shown where all the alcohol is stocked, he introduces me to the kitchen staff, and I ask him countless questions.

  When we’re finished, he curves an arm around my shoulders and drags me into his side. “Welcome to the Down Home Pub team, princess.”

  * * *

  I was smart, making my first night during the week. I’ll have time to adapt before the weekend comes.

  This is the only place in Blue Beech if you’re looking for fun or seeking to drink away your sorrows. Like every bar, the pub has its heartbroken, drunks, and partiers.

  The pub is nothing like the club I worked in. It’s relaxed compared to crazy coeds who just turned old enough for their first shot of vodka. There was no relaxing at the club like it is at Down Home—no sharing a quiet, deep conversation.

  The prying eyes come as soon as my shift starts. The pub is hosting a pool tournament tonight that usually brings in a decent crowd—meaning more people seeing me and the higher the chances my parents find out about my new job. I’m already dreading the phone call.

  “You okay over there?” Maliki calls over from his side of the bar.

  “I’d be better if someone ordered a drink from me,” I answer with a sense of rejection.

  Nearly every customer has ordered from Maliki, avoiding me as if I had the plague. Either they don’t trust my drink-making skills—which is a joke, considering the drinks served here are basic as hell—or they’re scared of my father finding out I served them. I’ve already spotted a few of his employees.

  He nods in understanding. “Give it a few shifts. It was the same when I started working with my dad. They’re comfortable with me.”

  I hold my hand up and cross my fingers. “Let’s hope so. Otherwise, I’m coming over there and making their drinks without their permission.”

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  The glass I’m holding crashes to the floor when Liz steps into the bar area. Her hands are parked on her skinny hips, and her usual snarl toward me is darker. I lean down and scramble to pick up the pieces of glass.

  Great. Already dropping shit on my first day.

  Maliki comes up behind her, towering over her small frame, and his eyes set on me. “I gave her a job.”

  Liz backs away to face him and shakes her head. “Last time I checked, we weren’t hiring.”

  “Someone needs to cover your shifts while you’re in Florida,” Maliki replies sharply.

  I twist to grab a rag from a shelf to stop the glass from cutting me as I clean up and focus on their standoff.

  “Have Mikey cover them,” Liz says, raising her voice. “Not a girl who’s probably never stepped foot behind a bar.”

  I rise and toss the shards of glass into the trash. “I worked in one of the busiest clubs in the state.”

  The glare shot in my direction tells me she either didn’t expect that answer or for me to defend myself.

  Her face tightens. “Of course you have, Barbie.” She rolls her eyes, turning her back to me, and continues yelling at Maliki, “What happens when I come back?”

  “She’ll serve,” Maliki bites out. His eyes drift to me in reassurance and then return to his sister. “Now, unless you have business to discuss other than my employees, I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Whatever,” Liz huffs out. “Fuck up our family business because you’re thinking with your dick.”

  Maliki’s jaw tightens in frustration. “It’s my business, and I’ll do with it as I fucking please.”

  “Wow,” she draws out. “We’re going there now, huh? I’ll be back in a few weeks. Oh, and consider this my resignation.”

  She storms away, and Maliki is running his hand over the stubble of his jaw when his eyes snap to me.

  I smooth down my tank top and rush out my words. “You can fire me. I don’t want to cause friction between you and your sister.”
/>
  He chuckles, the stress slowly fading from his face. “Appreciate it, but Liz resigns once a month.”

  He squats down to clean up the remnants of glass I missed. I didn’t exactly want to crawl around on the floor by their legs.

  He tosses the pieces into the trash can, and a relaxed smile crosses his face. “Now, get to work before I write you up.”

  I salute him, and he drifts back to his side of the bar.

  “Your brother is going to kick your ass, and I’ll take a Bud Light, please.”

  I shift my attention from Maliki to Gage—Kyle’s best friend since childhood. They’re partners on the Blue Beech police force.

  I groan. “Please tell me he’s not coming.”

  “Last I heard, he was,” he answers with a smirk.

  “Perfect.”

  I was so concerned about my parents’ reaction to my job that I didn’t think about my brothers. Rex, my younger one, won’t give two shits about it. He’ll probably ask me to make him a drink. But Kyle, as the overprotective older brother, won’t be happy.

  “I take it, he doesn’t know about this new gig of yours?” Gage asks.

  “Nope, so I’d appreciate it if you kept your lips sealed and led him to Maliki’s side of the bar … or better yet, inform him the bar has shut down for the night and he can stay home.” I smile, reach into the cooler for his beer, and hand it to him. “Don’t forget my generous tip.”

  He slaps cash onto the bar. “This is a shitshow I can’t wait to see.”

  I nod. “Facts.”

  “Then, why do it?”

  “I need money to, I don’t know, not starve to death.”

  “Seems legit.” He swipes his beer from the bar. “I’ll make sure to order my drinks from you, so you can have a cheeseburger tomorrow.”

  I roll my eyes. “Very funny.”

  His phone beeps. He reads the screen, laughs, and shows it to me. “Oh, he’s most definitely coming.”

  Kyle: Is my sister working there?

  My mouth turns dry, and I pour myself a water while groaning. “Great. The masses have already started gossiping.”

  He slaps his palm against the bar. “Good luck, little one.”

  I chug the water and refill my glass. Just as I’m about to finish it off, Kyle bursts through the crowd.

  “You. Me. Talking now.” He shoots his thumb toward the kitchen area.

  My gaze darts toward Maliki, who gives me a silent nod, as if he knew Kyle would show up. I slam down my water and circle around the bar. Kyle is talking behind me, but I ignore him and take us to the back office.

  I slam the door shut when we make it there. “Seriously? You’re going to get me fired!” I haven’t finished one shift, and I’m already bringing drama into the workplace.

  My brother looks nothing like me. His hair is darker, taking after my father. He’s built, strong, but he has nothing on Maliki.

  Sorry, big brother.

  He folds his arms over his chest and places his glare on me. “A. Maliki won’t fire you. B. What the fuck is going on? Since when are you a bartender?”

  I swallow hard, tears approaching. “Devin cheated on me.”

  “That son of a bitch,” he hisses, straightening his stance. “Good.”

  “Good? How the hell is my husband cheating on me good?”

  “I can kick his ass now. He’s always annoyed me.”

  “Seriously, Kyle, don’t touch him.”

  His face tightens. “I should’ve known he was a joke when he wore loafers to a barbeque.” He balls up his fist. “I’m going to kill him.”

  Even though he works in law enforcement, he’d have no problem roughing Devin up. Being the oldest, he’s protective of our family, especially now with everything that happened. His relationship with a woman who carries serious baggage has made him more vigilant.

  “You’re not killing anyone,” I say. “Last I heard, inmates don’t like police officers in their block. Do you know how bored you’d be when they stuck you in solitary confinement?”

  My joke eases some of the tension on his face, and he blows out a breath that calms him further.

  “Thanks for the tip, little sister, but I won’t go to prison for punching him a few times.”

  “I want it to be done and move on with my life.”

  “So, you found out your husband cheated, and instead of coming to your family, you ran to Maliki?”

  That does sound crappy. It takes me a moment to reply to his question. “Yep,” I finally croak out.

  He’s mentioned how much time I spend with Maliki several times, and I’ve always blown him off—the same as with everyone.

  His shoulders loosen, and with each minute that passes, the more he eases. “You’re in better hands with Maliki anyway.”

  “Me and Maliki … we’re not—”

  He cracks a smile. “Not yet.”

  I shove his chest. “Hey, I’m still married—only a few days separated.”

  “I’m not saying marry the dude. He’s an awesome guy, a good friend to you, and from what I’ve heard, he’s a wonderful fucking boss.” He whistles and jerks his head toward the door. “Now, come on. Let’s see how well you serve a beer.”

  I glance back at him. “With extra spit.”

  * * *

  “Ki, I’m out of here!” Tamara calls out while scooping up her tips and shoving them into her purse. “What time do you want me to come over tomorrow?”

  I drop my towel on the bar, and my blood turns colder than the beers chilling in the cooler behind me.

  Excuse me?

  Tamara is one of the gorgeous waitresses. Her boobs are bigger than mine, her curves are sexier, and I don’t know anything about her. She’s an outsider who lives in the next town over. She also has taken up flirting with Maliki as a second job.

  My attention shoots to Maliki, who’s on his side of the bar, ridding it of empty glasses and baskets of bar food.

  He takes off his hat and scratches his head. “Tomorrow doesn’t work. Let’s try again later this week.”

  She nods, smiling brightly at him. “Just text me.”

  She uses three fingers to wave good-bye to me, and I turn the dirty look I’m giving her into a fake smile while doing the same wave. She doesn’t deserve my animosity, but I can’t stand watching her flirt with him.

  Maliki walks her out and locks the bar when he comes back in. That’s one thing I respect about him. He walks his female employees to their cars at night. He cares about the people who work for him.

  “Why are you shooting murderous glares at my waitress?” he asks.

  I pull in a breath and set my attention on cleaning the bar. “Do I need to find somewhere to go later this week when she comes over?”

  “She cleans the apartment.”

  “Oh.” The annoyed expression remains on my face. His answer still hasn’t put me at ease.

  “Why do you still look pissed, even after I explained that?”

  “Does she do more than clean your apartment? Is there a particular time I should steer clear of the apartment, so you and her can have privacy to clean?”

  “All she does is clean, so there’s no need for privacy. Is there a reason we’re having this conversation?”

  I shrug. “Just in case we have people over to—”

  “Ahh,” he cuts in. “In case I have someone over to fuck.” He leans back against a pub table, crosses his arms, and releases a laughter filled with edge. “Are you going to have guys over to fuck? Do we need to set up schedules?”

  “What? No.” I stare at him, baffled.

  “Then, why is this coming up?”

  “I’m not planning on sleeping with anyone in your apartment.”

  “Appreciate that.”

  “I don’t want to be a buzzkill for you and … your women.”

  “I won’t bring a woman home while you’re there, okay?”

  “So, what?” I grimace. “You’ll go to their house?”

  “Why
are you asking so many questions?”

  “I told you, I’m curious.”

  “Do you not want someone to come over because you don’t want me with anyone else other than you?” He tilts his head to the side.

  Yes. “How would you feel if I was going to another man’s house and sexing it up?” I mirror his head tilt.

  “You can do whatever you want, Sierra.” He shoots me a frustrated look. “You’ve done that for a while now.”

  10

  Maliki

  “Now that you’ve slept on it, how was your first shift?” I ask Sierra, strolling into the kitchen. “Still want to work with me?”

  She’s wearing a tight, ribbed tank top with a sports bra underneath that shows just the right amount of cleavage and black leggings. Her blonde hair is swept back into a ponytail, and her face is makeup free—my favorite look on her.

  The view of Sierra early in the morning is the best goddamn view ever.

  Scratch that. Even though I’ll never see it, I’m sure the best goddamn view of her is waking up next to her in bed.

  Thank fuck she gave up on asking me irrelevant questions about Tamara and bringing other women home when we finished closing last night. I’d never pull that shit with her here. From what it seems, Sierra believes I’ve screwed every woman who’s flirted with me at the bar. Little does she know, I’ve wanted to punch every man who looks at her with desire while ordering his drinks. As the night turned later, people grew more comfortable, heading to her side of the bar.

  She cracks an egg into a skillet. “I liked it, so no quitting from this girl.” She grabs a bottle of coconut water and takes a long swig. “Egg?”

  “Sure.”

  She cracks another egg. “How do you like them?”

  “However you want to make them. I’m not picky.”

  “What if I add pickles and mustard to them?”

  I scrunch up my face. The fuck? “Do you add pickles and mustard to them?”

  “No, but you didn’t know that. That could have been how I liked my eggs, and then you’d be stuck with them for breakfast.”

  I chuckle. “You are the most random person I know.”