I rub my eyes. “I don’t want to say, but someone's either terrible at math or helping themselves to the premium stock.”
“You up for a break?” Faddey suggests. “You've been at it for four hours.”
I glance at my watch, surprised. “Where did the time go?”
“I don’t know how you do it.” Faddey pours me a glass of sparkling water and passes it to me. “I hate numbers and could never look over them for four hours. Agafon mentioned you have a head for them.”
“I do.” I nod and stand to stretch my legs. “I learned to budget my pocket money when young and used to invest it away for fun. I beat my brothers’ returns nearly every year.”
Agafon lets loose a whistle. “Help me someday?”
“Anytime.” I grin. I’m thrilled to be working here now, and Faddey and I have formed a friendship of sorts. Some days, Agafon comes to check in on us, and I see him amused at how his brother and I have formed a strong bond, at how we turn against him sometimes.
Faddey checks the time and realizes the bar must have opened for the evening. “Think you can handle the bar for fifteen minutes till I arrive? We need to observe the new hires today, and I need to check something in the stockroom with Misha.”
“Of course,” I say, with a smile.
***
I weave through the growing crowd toward the bar. I help the new bartender with our measuring guidelines and how to record orders for the automated restocking system we are trying to implement.
I then turn to scan the room.
For ten minutes, everything goes smoothly. I spot an amber alert on the computer for a man in the corner who's ordering his fourth scotch in an hour, and inform the floor manager to be careful. Yelena handles his latest order with diplomatic skill, denying it with a suggestion of specialty water and an appetizer “on the house.”
He's sitting at the far end of the bar and grunts in agreement, but there’s something shady about him. His eyes linger on Yelena as she walks away in a manner that makes my skin crawl, even from across the room. When one of the servers approaches to give him his water, he grabs her wrist, pulling her closer to whisper something into her ear.
She pulls away and massages her wrist. When she walks away, I see her brows furrowed, her eyes distant.
I’m suddenly angry, on alert. I watch as he intercepts a different server, his hand sliding to the small of her back before she can step away.
Yelena, the floor manager, is occupied with a group of customers at the other end, and Faddey still hasn't returned. The server in his grip shoots me a subtle look. She needs backup.
I move before I can second-guess myself, plastering on a smile. “Is everything to your satisfaction, Sir?” I ask, positioning myself between him and the server, who takes the opportunity to slip away.
He looks me up and down, his gaze lingering on my curves. I feel my bloodboil.“Well, well. They grow them fuller here than back home.”
I have to try very hard not to punch him.
His accent is Eastern European, but I can’t place where from, exactly. He’s not Russian, for sure.
“You're new.” He gives me a lecherous smile.
“I am,” I confirm without smiling back, calculating how quickly security could reach us if needed. “And you are...?”
“Thirsty,” he says, draining his glass and holding it out expectantly. “For more than just drinks.”
I eye the glass, but don’t take it.
“Come on, bombshell. Bring me something sweet like you. And then you scurry back here, okay? I’m lonely and…” His eyes travel up and down my body again, “…you can help.”
I freeze, anxiety coursing through me. I know I should reach out for help, perhaps motion to someone for aid, but at the same time, I think of what Agafon would do.
“I’m afraid you’re not getting that drink,” I say, staring him right in the eye with cold arrogance.
“What the hell do you mean by that, bitch?” He rises and sputters in my face.
I feel something cold settle over me, like frost. I maintain the blank expression I've seen on Agafon's face when dealing with problems. “You’re harassing my staff,” I say, my voice dropping several degrees. “And you’re drunk.”
