Page 14

“Thank you for your understanding,” I heard my sister say. Sylvie stood at the far end of the dining room, leaning against the hostess stand. I froze, trying to slink back out of sight, but it was too late. The male customer in front of my sister glared my way. He said something low and mean to Sylvie, shaking a finger in her face. She cast a judgmental glance over her shoulder at me and then apologized again. My customer stormed out the front door.

Sylvie followed him, flipped the sign to “Closed” on the outside and turned the deadbolt. I grabbed the mop and set myself to the task of cleaning up the spilled ketchup.

I heard my sister and brother’s muffled voices coming from behind the bar on the other side of the kitchen doors. There would be no escape for me. I couldn’t just sneak out the back and drive away. I lived in the apartment upstairs. My brother owned the building. And he owned the bar as well.

When the kitchen doors swung open, I braced myself.

“What happened?” Sylvie asked.

I swiped the mop over the last sticky spot and then went to the utility tub to rinse it.

“Just dropped a bottle of ketchup. No fatalities.”

Sylvie came up to me and put a hand on my shoulder. She turned me toward her. “I’m not talking about the ketchup and you know it, Corrine. Put the mop down. Leave this for the bussers.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. I wanted to go right upstairs and lock the door. But Sylvie would follow. I’d get no peace tonight until she got this out of her system.

I untied my apron and hung it on a hook by the door, then followed Sylvie to the back office. My brother sat at the bar, counting the night’s receipts and reconciling the cash in the drawer. He gave me a hard look as I passed.

“PJ,” I started. He put a hand up and shook his head. Great, I thought. It meant my older siblings had been talking behind my back all evening.

Sylvie sat at the desk when I walked into the tiny office with dark paneling from the early 1980s. The room was only big enough for one chair in front of the desk. I felt like I’d been called to the principal’s office.

“Whatever that guy told you,” I started. “He’s a jerk.”

“He said you never brought his and his date’s drinks. He said his burger was dried out like it had been left under the heat lamp too long. And he said you disappeared. Never checked on him.”

“Fine,” I said. “Believe whatever you want.”

“Corrine,” my sister said, softening her tone. “You haven’t been yourself all week. You’re coming in late. You’re missing things. Kristen said she had to cover your tables twice yesterday. Are you okay? Just tell me. That was our deal, right?”

“I’m fine,” I said through tight lips.

Sylvie reached for me across the desk, but I scooted my chair back.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Nothing.” My back went stiff. I started pulling a loose thread on my sleeve. “I just haven’t been sleeping very well.”

“I think it’s more than that. I’m giving you an opportunity to tell me what’s been going on before…”

“Before what?” I shot back. “Before you fire me again?”

Sylvie took a deep breath, which flared her nostrils. “That’s not my call. This is PJ’s bar. You know I’m just helping out. This was supposed to be temporary. I have my own business to run. I’m busy with the kids. You were supposed to take over managing this bar by the end of last year. It’s almost April and you’re barely able to handle waiting on a handful of tables.”

“Can we be done now? You’re not Mom, Sylvie.”

“And you’re not a child,” she shot back. “You’re almost twenty-seven. We’ve been patient. We’ve gone over and above trying to help you get on your feet. But you sleep until noon every day. You’ve been late four out of four shifts this week. It’s not like you’re stuck in traffic. All you have to do is walk down the stairs. And on that subject… I know you haven’t paid your rent in three months.”

“That’s none of your business,” I said.

“No,” she said. “It’s PJ’s. He could get twice what he’s charging you for that apartment. More than enough to cover the mortgage on this place. He’s hemorrhaging money. And he’s too much of a pushover to call you out on any of it. So, as usual, it’s my job to clean up everyone else’s mess.”

“I’ll talk to PJ. And as for tonight, that customer was a jerk. Did you ask Kristen why she didn’t want to wait on him? She left early, by the way. I’ve been covering her tables for the last two hours.”

I hated having to rely on either of my siblings. And I didn’t say the things I wanted to say. Sylvie would never see me as anything other than her annoying screw-up of a baby sister. No matter what I did, it wouldn’t be good enough.

“Fine,” she said, throwing her hands up. “But I’m worried about you.”