Fierce - Brody

by Natalie Ann

  “I don’t know,” Brody said. “Maybe it’s the fact you’ve all been on my case for months. I took my punishment like Cade, but came back to find that you all thought I couldn’t do my job. That you all think I need some kind of a babysitter.”

  “No one needs a babysitter,” Ella said softly.

  “That’s funny coming from the person who seems to be making all the decisions right now.”

  Ella laughed. “I’ve always been the one to make the final decisions. You guys all have your branches and you just run with it and never worry about the messes you create or the work it takes to make things happen behind the scenes. That has always fallen on me.”

  “You love it,” Cade said.

  “Believe what you want,” Ella said calmly. “But in this case, I’m cleaning up the mess you’ve made, Brody.”

  “There’s no mess. The bar’s revenue has increased steadily at ten percent for the last six months. Explain that mess to me.”

  Ella sighed. “Yes, the bar is profitable. Yes, Cade is bringing in more attractions and live music to help that. Yes, Mason is making more brews to help sell at the bar. And yes, Aiden’s food is sought after, also helping the bar. See, you all need to work together to make it work the best. The problem is, you aren’t working with anyone, Brody.”

  It hurt to hear Ella say that. That he wasn’t being a team player. He’d always been the leader of the group and now he was being told he couldn’t lead anymore. That part of his identity was being stripped away.

  He wanted to shout at Ella, at everyone, but he didn’t. The last time he started shouting, fists went flying and he found himself spending a week in a hotel room alone. This time he tried to find some restraint, the one thing he had the least of among all his siblings. Being a hothead went hand in hand with being the loudest and the biggest.

  “So you think hiring me a new day manager is going to allow me to play nice with everyone?”

  Aiden laughed. “You’ve never played nice with us, so we don’t expect it now. We just want to get back to working as a team.”

  He wanted to grind his teeth. “I’ve always worked as part of the team.”

  “Brody,” Mason said. “You haven’t been the same for a good year now and you know it. The last six months, you’ve been downright ornery. More than normal.”

  Again, they weren’t telling him anything he hadn’t known or felt deep inside.

  Cade stood up and walked toward him, then stopped and seemed to hesitate. Very unlike Cade to hesitate over anything. “We’ve given you time to get over what happened a year ago. Rather than get better, you’re getting worse. What can we do to help?”

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “There’s nothing to do. It’s in the past and it’s over with. I’ve moved on. Everyone else should, too.”

  “If this is moving on,” Aiden said, “then we’re in trouble.”

  Little Bit of Heat

  “Are you sure you’re okay with her today?” Aimee asked Rick, her stepfather.

  “We’ll be fine. Go to work and enjoy yourself.”

  Aimee just smiled. Work had been great the past two days. She was learning so much and couldn’t wait to start in the bar.

  A lot of people might hate working in the hospitality industry, but Aimee loved it. She knew nothing else, so it was a good thing she didn’t mind what she did.

  The fact that she was able to get a full-time job doing it was even better. And no nights and only one day on the weekend. Having Thursday and Sunday off was going to be nice. She wouldn’t make as much working eleven to seven as she would bartending nights, but her priorities had changed in the past two years.

  “Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it. Melanie can take Sidney every day but Wednesdays. She has to watch her grandson that day.”

  “It’s not a problem,” Rick assured her. “I’m just glad you moved back home so I could help.”

  Moving home was something Aimee hadn’t wanted to do. She hadn’t wanted to burden her stepfather with her problems. To see his disappointment daily that she’d somehow followed in her mother’s footsteps and became a single mother at an early age. One with no education and no prospects of a stable job.

  Getting this job at Fierce was a chance of a lifetime. If it weren’t for Melanie, her mother’s best friend, putting in a good word for her with Jolene Fierce, it might have never happened.

  Not that she wanted to be beholden to anyone, but at this point, she wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

  She glanced down at her two-year-old daughter, happily playing house with a doll and baby bottle. Twin black pigtails on each side of her head, twirling like a soft serve ice cream cone.

  “Mommy is going to work, Sidney,” Aimee said, squatting down and picking her daughter up. “I want you to be a good girl for Grandpa.”

  “Yes,” Sidney said. She wasn’t much for talking. Aimee worried there was something wrong with her daughter, but the doctors told her everything was fine, that Sidney was just quiet. She’d talk more when she was ready.

  It was just another guilt on her shoulders right now, that maybe she wasn’t doing right by her daughter. That she wasn’t around enough in these early days and should have been spending more time teaching her skills, reading to her, just playing with her.

  But bills had to be paid, and food had to be put on the table. The guy that fathered Sidney sure the heck wasn’t helping, so tough choices had been made. The problem was, were they the right choices?

  With a kiss on Sidney’s cheek, she put her back on the floor with her dolls, then grabbed her purse and started to walk out of the room.

  “Aimee?” Rick’s voice stopped her from opening the door. “Have fun at work and don’t worry about us. We’ll be just fine.”

  “Call me if there are any problems, please.”

  “There won’t be.”

  Aimee nodded her head and walked out the front door to her aging sedan in the driveway.

  Today was the day. She was finally going to meet her new boss, Brody Fierce.

  Well, her immediate boss. She’d met everyone else, including Gavin and Jolene Fierce, the original owners of Fierce.

  With thoughts of Sidney and her stepfather pushed to the back of her brain, she drove the few miles to her new job and parked in the back lot.

  When she got out of the car, she looked down at her black pants and red work shirt with the logo in the right-hand corner. All employees had the same uniform so they stood out. It actually made life easier for her. No worries about buying more clothes that would only get ruined at work, not that she could afford new clothes anyway.

  And no worries if she should dress sexier to get bigger tips. She’d never liked doing it, but had been pushed to plenty of times in her line of work. Sure, the money was great, but not enough to sell out her pride.

  Nope. The black bottoms were her choice. Could be pants, shorts, or a skirt, but nothing shorter than mid-thigh. She’d noticed some of the waitresses went for the shorter length, but not her. Black pants were good enough.

  She even had a choice of red tops. Loose or form fitting, long or short sleeves, but nothing dipped low enough to show cleavage. Fierce wasn’t about objectifying its staff and that was clear. It was a higher-end establishment, and they wanted to keep that image.

  Aimee hoped that high-end image bled over into the bar tips too. She needed all the help she could get right now.

  ***

  Brody felt like one of those cartoon characters that had steam coming out of his ears as he made his way to the bar after the meeting.

  How could they think he hadn’t moved on? How could they think he was a control freak?

  Because it was all true, that’s how. Not that he’d admit it to anyone. Then again, it seemed he didn’t need to.

  Flipping the lights on around the bar, he started to set up for the day, knowing his new employee would be in shortly. Everything he had planned had to be pushed aside, because now he had to train someone
.

  He hated training people. It was just easier to do it himself regardless of the number of hours he’d been working.

  One by one, the kitchen and waitstaff made their way in until someone he didn’t recognize pushed the door open and came to a complete standstill, making eye contact with him, then taking a deep breath and marching forward.

  He was good at reading people. What he saw was forced confidence on a younger woman.

  She extended her hand when she stopped a few feet in front of him, her head barely reaching the shoulders of his six-foot-two-inch frame. “Hi, I’m Aimee and you’re Brody.”

  He returned her handshake, holding on longer than he should have as his eyes lingered over her. Her shake was firm, her stare bold with a touch of nervousness.

  She was much younger than he thought she’d be, even hoped for. A bar manager—especially a woman—and in a bar the caliber of Fierce, should have fifteen years’ experience at minimum unless they owned it, and still that would be pushing it. She looked to be a few years out of high school.

  Her hair was pulled away from her face in front, black curls hanging down her back. Face scrubbed clean of any makeup, hands soft and minus any sparkle or shine of nail polish. Dressed like him in black pants and the standard red Fierce cotton shirt. She went for the fitted one, but a size or two bigger than she should have.

  “Yep, that’s me. I’m afraid you’ve got me at a disadvantage,” he said, his deep voice hinting at amusement. He could be pissed at his siblings, but the lingering family meeting in the back of his brain said to hold any resentment in at the moment.

  “Sorry about that,” she said, walking around the bar and making herself at home. Part of him was annoyed, the other part impressed. She didn’t intimidate easily.

  “Not your fault. Needless to say, my family has had time to get to know your background and experience, but no one has shared that information.”

  She straightened up quickly from where she’d locked her purse under the bar and turned. “Oh. I guess I didn’t expect that. Would you like to see a copy of my resume?”

  He laughed. “That would be pretty useless right now. Besides, you wouldn’t have lasted one hour if you didn’t have the experience. Actually, you wouldn’t have gotten in the door if you didn’t.”

  “Okay,” she said, frowning. “Then what would you like to know?”

  “Right now, nothing,” he said. “It’s going to come down to how you and I work together.”

  “Not a problem,” she said, smiling confidently. “I get along with most people.”

  “Only most?” He was used to flirting with customers, but not employees. Yet this didn’t seem like flirting, really. She was being friendly and firm, keeping her distance and putting up invisible walls. He’d done it enough at the bar to know what she was doing. That alone showed her experience. Keep a conversation going, redirect it if it gets dicey, but never offend a paying customer. It also applied to your boss.

  “I guess we’ll find out if you fall into that category or not,” she said, grinning at him while she tied a short black apron around her waist. “So, show me how you open the bar.”

  For the next thirty minutes, he walked her through his routine. “I’m sure you’ve been told the basics. Bar and restaurant open at eleven thirty. Entrees stop at nine Sunday through Thursday nights, ten on Friday and Saturday. Bar menu only after that, which is just appetizer food.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Bar closes midnight most nights, two a.m. on Friday and Saturday. One bartender on duty until three each day, two or three on from three to closing, depending on the day and time of year. Thirty seats at the bar, we take drink and food orders from anyone sitting here, waitstaff deal with the rest.”

  “Good memory,” he said. “Waitstaff are split. The faster ones serve those sitting in the bar area, since many linger for drinks after they eat and we want to fill them fast. The tables turn over slower here than the back room, but the tips are higher.”

  “I’ve done my fair share of waitressing. From what I’ve seen, the restaurant and staff have a nice smooth flow to them.”

  “Every facet of Fierce does and we want to keep it that way.”

  “A warning?” she asked. “Don’t rock the boat?”

  There was no smile on her face, but no coldness either. Just an honest question. “It could be.”

  “I’m not here to make changes. Are suggestions welcomed, or do I keep my opinions to myself?”

  “Suggestions are always welcome,” he said briskly. He could be businesslike, too.

  It wasn’t long before the tables in the bar area were filling up, along with the stools at the bar.

  “What sounds good today?” Brody heard someone ask Aimee.

  “What are you in the mood for?” she asked, wiping the bar in front of him and grabbing a menu to hand over.

  “I’m open to anything. Sell me,” he said, adding a wink. Brody ground his teeth but pushed away his reaction. This was why he hated women bartending, but he knew they brought in plenty of business. His staff knew how to handle being hit on. There was no reason for him to be bothered since it seemed Aimee could handle herself. The hint of protectiveness threw him off for the moment. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt it so strongly for someone he’d just met.

  “Well, if you like some heat, then you can’t go wrong with the Fierce Fire Tacos and a double IPA as a chaser.”

  “A little bit of heat is always a good thing. What’s so good about it?” the customer asked.

  “As you know, Aiden is a master at what he does, not to mention Mason in the brewery. The pork is marinated in Fierce’s Fire Brew. If you’ve never had it, you really should try it. Then again, it’s not for everyone with the hint of habaneros to it. It’s topped off with a mango pineapple slaw, a sweet afternote to cool down the fire of the sriracha aioli on top.”

  Brody’s own mouth was watering as she described one of Aiden’s top-selling lunch dishes—which also happened to be his favorite. She had a voice that just sucked you right in. Her direct eye contact with the customer wasn’t hurting either. Make them feel like they can trust you—she had that nailed.

  “Sold. I’ll take it with the double IPA and an order of fries.”

  Aimee walked over to the touch screen, put the order in, and got the client’s draft. Two more clients came in to her side of the bar and he watched her do the same. Sell the bar menu as if she’d been eating the items for years, rather than spending one day with Aiden.

  “Have you really sampled those dishes or are you just lying through your teeth?” Brody asked her an hour later, when she moved over to his side of the bar to grab a specialty vodka for one of his signature drinks. “You need help with that?”

  “Yeah, if you don’t mind making it while I watch?” He grabbed what he needed and got to work making this week’s martini special. “And yes. I’ve tried the dishes that I’m speaking of. I went home with a stomachache after, but Aiden was great, letting me sample all the bar food. I like to be able to give honest opinions to people.”

  “Anything you didn’t like?” he asked, shaking the drink, watching her as she watched his hands and every move he made. He could see she was like a sponge. Wondered if that went to all aspects of her life. Damn, there he went again, his mind shifting to spots it had no business going.

  “Some things weren’t to my liking, but I found what I did like about them so I can sell that.” If she had any idea of his train of thought, she didn’t let on.

  “Like what?” He poured the blue liquid into the sugar-rimmed glass that she’d gotten ready for him.

  “I’m not a big fan of artichokes, but I still tried the dip with homemade chips.”

  He handed the finished drink over to her. “So how will you sell that if someone asks?”

  “I’ll ask how much they like artichokes. A hint or full-on assault. If they say a hint, then I’ll kindly tell them it might not be their thing but push them onto something else.”


  He smiled. “I’ve told Aiden there are too many artichoke chunks in the dip too, but he doesn’t listen. Since it sells well, I guess he’s right and I’m wrong.”

  She walked back to her customer with the drink a few feet away, then turned and asked louder than normal, “Are you wrong often?”

  “Rarely,” he said, smirking. She was going to be a worthy foe; he could tell right now.

  Slick-Talking Men

  Aimee washed her hands a little after seven, made sure Brody was all set for the night, and then walked to her car.

  It was a good first day behind the bar. Not as busy as she would have liked, since there was a third bartender on the schedule while she trained in the late afternoon, but busy enough that she was able to absorb everything she saw.

  It was a fast-moving bar and that was what she enjoyed. The day flew by with barely enough time for a lunch break. And even on that break, she was working. She’d gone back to the kitchen and asked if she could sample a few dishes being made so that she had a better understanding of them. Aiden gladly walked her through how they were prepared.

  Brody was nicer than she thought he’d be, considering the circumstances of her employment. But she didn’t miss the narrowing of his eyes or frustrated looks sent to his siblings as they passed through the bar during the day. Definitely underlying issues there, but that wasn’t her problem.

  Her problem was keeping her mind on her job and not on the super sexy, highly flirtatious boss she was going to be working with. The one whose eyes traveled over her more times than she could count. Both in curiosity and appeal.

  She’d been around the block enough to know when to deflect and when to accept silent offers. But the closed-up sign was on her shop at the moment. She had to keep reminding herself that.

  So she focused on work instead of thinking of Brody. He was good with customers but she didn’t expect anything different.

  The women he waited on probably felt like he only had eyes for them. The men were given the impression Brody was their best bud and they were just hanging out after work together. And since she knew he’d honed that skill well, she told herself he was just doing the same with her. Nothing more, nothing less.