Lowlander Silverback (Gray Back Bears #5)(2)

“All right, so will you include Kong’s crew on Shifter Night?”

“Not until he registers. Or no! Not until he pulls his weight and f*cks a couple of groupies.”

“Jake!”

“What? They are the honey attracting the bees, Layla. And from what I’ve seen, Kong hasn’t taken a single girl home. When he dips his toe into helping me bring in customers, he can have all the free booze he wants. Oh! Could you tell him that? Here.” Jake ripped bright pink and neon green flyers off the top of the stack and shoved them into her hands with the one she already held. “Tell his crew our plans and explain why they need to get their dicks wet.”

“Oh my gosh, Jake, no.” Layla shook her head and headed for the door, clutching the flyers. “If they aren’t chasing women, it’s because they don’t want wives or mates or whatever they call it when they pair up.” And she wasn’t encouraging Kong to screw groupies, nope, nope, nope.

“I’ll give you twenty bucks on top of your tips tonight.”

Layla halted her retreat, her back to him. Double damn, she’d almost made it to the door.

“I know you need the money for Mac. Just talk to them subtly, explain there’s free weekly booze in it for them, and let them make the decision to participate on their own. You don’t even have to do a hard sell. I mean, shit, it’s free booze and *. What are they going to say? No?” Jake let off a single, loud laugh.

“Why can’t you talk to them about it?” she asked, turning slowly.

“Because I don’t have those.” He looked pointedly at her boobs and arched his eyebrows. “They’ll listen to you over me any day. Thirty bucks.”

Layla let off a growl and muttered, “Fine. Thirty bucks.”

The nerves hit in the hallway. She was going to talk to Kong, on purpose. And not just to get his drink order. She pressed her back against the wood paneling in the hallway and closed her eyes tightly. Gah, she was an easy mark. All Jake had to do was wave a few ten dollar bills in her face and she was asking how high he wanted her to jump. Her self-respect was swirling the toilet right now.

Pursing her lips, Layla pushed off the wall and strode into the main room of Sammy’s, her boots making sticky sounds across the floor. She mopped the damned thing every night, but the townies couldn’t seem to go ten minutes without party-fouling and sloshing their drinks everywhere.

As she made her way behind the bar, she smiled politely at Jackson, who untied his apron and shoved a wad of tips in his pocket as he passed. It looked like mostly one dollar bills, which meant the mid-day shift must’ve been slow. One look behind the bar, and she puffed air out her cheeks and tried to figure out where to begin. Jackson was nice and was good with the customers, but holy moose patties, he was the biggest slob she’d ever encountered. Maybe all bachelors were like that. No, Mac had never been a slob, and his wife had died years ago. Perhaps it was different with widowers than bachelors, though.

“Hellooo,” Barney sang out. “I’ve been waiting ten minutes for you to come and refill my drink.”

Barney was a regular, and he was also a steady source of headache material. Lucky for him, she was a pro. “Why didn’t you have Jackson refill you, Barney?”

“Because,” he slurred as she refilled his whiskey and coke, “Jackson don’t do nothin’ for my boner.”

“Charming. There you go. Just give me a holler when you need another. You want me to turn the volume up?” She pointed to the television above the bar and waited with the sweetest smile she could manage over her gritted teeth. Barney liked sports, and turning up the volume was the quickest way to get his attention off her.

He slurped and nodded, then pulled a bowl of mixed nuts to his chest and began snacking while she searched for the remote. Freaking Jackson. Empty bottles, dirty rags, bottle caps, and used wine glasses littered the bar. She was a tidy person by nature, and cleaning up after Jackson’s shift was her least favorite chore. She turned to Barney who was staring at her tits with a gap-toothed grin. Well, it was one of her least favorite. Barney tipped her well, though, so he could stare all he wanted. This was part of the job. She’d known it the day she was hired a few years ago. Did she like being ogled by handsy strangers? No. But she had a steady job in a small town with a nice enough boss, and the tips kept food on the table. She was lucky to work here, a mantra she would probably repeat to herself a hundred times tonight.

Saturdays were busy thanks to the two men sauntering in through the front door right now. Denison and Brighton Beck, and she had a genuine smile for those boys. Denison waved as he set his guitar case up on the stage.

“Let me clean up, and I’ll get you two a drink,” she called across the bar.

“No rush. I know Jackson’s shite at cleaning up his mess,” Denison said through a grin.

He and his brother had been playing here on the weekends as long as she’d worked here. They were the reason she hadn’t felt frightened like some of the other people in town when the bear shifters of Saratoga had begun registering to the public. Denison and Brighton were always nice to her. Growly as hell if anyone pissed them off, and sure, they could rip someone’s esophagus through their mouth hole if they were ever so inclined, but the twins had a strong moral compass, and damn they could sing. Or, at least Denison could. His brother, Brighton, had no voice. Didn’t stop him from the raspy whisper he used in the microphone, but Brighton shredded guitar in the background while Denison sang lead. And shit could they play. If they’d had a mind to, they could be big. She’d asked them once why they hadn’t gone to Nashville and chased the big stage, but Denison said his inner animal wouldn’t let him, and he was happy to stay here where he knew the crowd.