Folk Around and Find Out (Good Folk: Modern Folktales #2)(21)
Regardless of Hank’s unhelpfulness, I’d worked until midnight on Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, losing myself in the spreadsheets and enjoying every single second of it.
“I see a lot of Dave, though.” I tried to mollify Sienna’s spike in temper. “And that’s been nice.”
She smiled back, the curve of her mouth stiff. “That is nice. Tell him I say hi.”
“I will.”
Years before Dave had worked as Rae’s personal bodyguard or Hank’s bouncer, he’d been a guard for Sienna and they were still friendly.
Dave had been the one to walk me to my car every night after I’d spent my time in the office going through old payroll, credit card statements, receipts, and expenditures, studying the flow of the business and getting an idea of how the club functioned. Fred—the previous bookkeeper—had maintained folders on the desktop labeled clearly with their contents.
Tax forms were in a folder named Tax Forms, and other folders within were organized by year, then employee last name. You better believe I scanned the folders and searched for my cousin. None of the names matched, but that didn’t mean much. Heather could have been using a fake identity.
None of the payroll records clearly detailed house percentages and portions for the dancers, rates for the lap dances, etc., which was frustrating. I found conflicting information from one spreadsheet to the next, from one dancer to the next, one week to the next, and all the contradictory data gave me a headache even as it energized me to solve the puzzle.
“Dave’s the best,” Sienna said, returning her focus to Pedro in the swing, chuckling at his antics as he made a grab for Frankie. Glancing at me again, she opened her mouth, maybe to comment on the two rascals. Instead, her scrutiny became an inspection. “Seriously, if you need Hank to be more supportive and helpful, let me know. I’ll talk to him.”
“Please do not talk to Hank.” It was better if he left me alone. Then I would be free to question the dancers and kitchen staff about Heather. “Everything is fine.”
“I feel like you two would like each other better if you got to know each other outside of work.”
I offered a small smile, too tired and careworn to manage more than that.
What I needed was to ask one of the dancers about the photo of Heather without raising suspicion, which meant I needed to start interacting with them more than the quick introductions I’d made on Thursday and Friday nights.
So far I’d met nine of the dancers. I already knew Hannah Townsend and had an acquaintance with Tina Patterson, but the rest had been unknown to me. Each of the new faces had been friendly and excited to have a replacement bookkeeper.
Yet Hannah greeted me with a pleasant smile but eyed me with suspicion. She’d always been smart, and I had no doubt she knew why I’d taken a job at The Pony. I only hoped she’d keep the information to herself and not ruin my chances of finding Heather.
The ladies’ unified kindness on Saturday night settled my nerves, giving me hope that Hannah hadn’t revealed my true motive for taking the bookkeeping job, and I figured I’d be able to ask one of them about Heather and the photo sometime soon. I considered bringing in cupcakes or muffins this weekend as a thank-you for their warm welcome, and then using the opportunity to request information about the photos in the hallway.
My primary objective seemed to be progressing well, but every night when I drove home after Dave walked me to my car, I’d felt that twinge of guilt.
I was lying to these women about my objectives, and that didn’t feel right no matter how important and well-meaning my intentions. Would they forgive me for deceiving them after I quit?
Maybe I could . . . stay for a bit longer than two weeks?
Righting Frankie’s swing and giving him a soft push, I finally allowed myself to consider the invasive idea that had taken root in the back of my mind since last Thursday after work. I needed to find my cousin, but I hadn’t expected to like the job this much. Except Hank, everyone else had been gracious. I missed working with numbers. And adults. And it paid really well.
The kids’ school was starting up again soon, but I wished staying at The Pony was a possibility. Especially if setting up FastFinance for the club saved as much time as I thought it would. I could lay the kids down at night and then work remotely for a few hours, driving to the club two times a week on the weekends in case someone needed to meet about a payroll issue or if Hank had questions about the canned reports.
The part of me that had wanted to immediately dismiss the idea finally silenced as I realized the truth: a big part of me liked the notion too much to set it aside. I enjoyed working in an office environment, seeing people in the breakroom, and chatting between their shifts.
At the kids’ school, I suspected conversations in the breakroom stalled whenever I arrived because I wasn’t only a teacher’s aide, I was a parent. Compounding complicated matters, Kimmy—my oldest—had been a tricky child to teach and to parent. She challenged authority constantly and I suspected this contributed to me feeling like an outsider in the teachers’ lounge.
But not at The Pony. I’d immediately felt like part of the team. Sure, excluding the kitchen staff and bouncers, my coworkers were all mostly naked and covered in glitter, but that didn’t bother me any. I worked with kindergartners nine months out of the year. They also liked to take off their clothes and paint their bodies with glitter.