Hayden's Timbre Read online

  Thirty minutes later we were leaving the store with him holding his new phone like a piece of gold. We discussed rules all the way home. I wanted him to think he had ownership in this arrangement but ultimately, I made the rules and he would abide by them, or the phone would be turned off. We agreed on a few we could both live with, and that was that.

  My preteen had a cell phone.

  Was this normal?

  I needed to ask around.

  There might be some rules I hadn’t thought of so I told him we would revisit rules after a week or so. I could gather intel on them in a week.

  He took off to the shower still sporting his new lifeline as soon as I stopped the truck.

  I called after him, “Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes.” He made some reply I didn’t understand as he headed up the stairs.

  I pulled my phone out. I didn’t remember the last time I looked at it today. The sign for a voice mail blinked in the corner, and some texts were on the front screen.

  I took the steak out of the fridge to start working on the meal while I listened to the message.

  “Uh, this is Timbre. You know, from this morning. I called you but no answer so I called again to leave this. I don’t know why I called you, though. I probably shouldn’t have so anyway… I just called. Thanks for bringing me home today and for the money. Uh, bye.”

  While trying to decide if I should call her back, I listened to it twice. She didn’t say to call her, so maybe she felt the need to thank me for the money and was embarrassed about it. Who knew what went on in a female’s mind? I read the texts from one of the bands I worked with and threw my phone on the bar to finish dinner. I knew Crew would be starving after getting clean, so I needed to fill him up for a few hours, at least.

  With dinner simmering on the stove, I glanced back at my phone and thought about Timbre. Maybe I should call back and check in. Her day went from bad to worse all thanks to me. I picked it up and hit her number on the call list. It rolled immediately to voicemail, so I ended it. I didn’t expect it, so I hadn’t planned on what to say. She’ll see it and call me if she wants to talk.

  Four Months Later

  I sat on the twin bed in the shelter and looked around. How had my life come to this? A job, an apartment with a roommate, a car, and a life all went to hell in the blink of a an eye. Selling my car this morning to pay the last of my bills for the month, left me with basically nothing. My cell would stay on one more month and then it would be gone if I didn’t find a job paying more than minimum wage.

  When Caylor told me he planned to move to Los Angeles, I didn’t realize he meant right away. It took me completely by surprise. I knew he was getting tired of paying my rent and his, but I paid what I could from my retail job. A decent job after the dickwad let me go was impossible to find. One bad day turned my life upside down in a flash.

  Meeting a hot guy and getting fired started my downward spiral. No matter what I did, it seemed I couldn’t stop the free fall. I prayed that living in this shelter would be such a temporary stop that I’d barely remember it in a few months.

  My student loans from the college degree that got me nowhere would continue piling up. I needed to find a better job fast. After settling in my new home, I would start looking everywhere.

  A tall blonde woman with too much makeup came in and started loading up a suitcase from under her bed. I watched her gather her meager belongings, and when she looked up and saw me, I quickly looked down.

  “Hello,” her words were softly spoken.

  “Hi. Are you packing to move out?”

  “Yeah, I finally have enough saved to get my own apartment again. It’s not too bad as far as shelters go, but having my own place will be great.”

  “Congrats, that’s great. You must have a good job then.”

  “Yes, I’m a cocktail waitress over at a place on Congress.”

  “Nice. Do you make good tips there?” I could be a waitress. I’d done it in high school and college, but I’d need to make a lot more than I did back then.

  “Yeah, they’re good. Of course, you only make the usual two seventy-five an hour, but the tips more than make up for it. You know, you’re cute and have big boobs. You could make a lot with those girls on show.”

  I didn’t know how to respond to that. I’d never worked someplace that my body would bring in more money. That sounded close to prostitution in some sort of weird way.

  “Do you think they would hire me? I mean, are they hiring where you work?” I sounded desperate even to myself.

  “They’re always hiring because someone’s always quitting. I don’t know if they’re hiring for waitressing, though… but yeah, apply, and I’ll put in a good word for you. My name’s Jenna.” She stuck her hand out, and I shook it.

  “I’m Timbre.”

  She wrote down the name of the place and the address before she left. Fortunately, a bus ran right in front of it so I wouldn’t need a car. I opened my suitcase and pulled out my only pair of nice jeans I had left and a shirt that needed ironing. The shelter helped women get back on their feet, so I felt sure they had one for me to use.

  The dark bar’s funky vibe hit me when I walked through the door. Only a few people sat drinking with it being the middle of the afternoon. The place held lots of patrons’ memories from the looks of the décor. Signed t-shirts, flags, and dollar bills hung in interesting locations. A bar with some attitude. I liked it.

  “What can I get you?” the man behind the bar asked.

  “Oh, yes. My name is Timbre Simons. I spoke with Jenna this morning about applying for a job.”

  He came to the end of the bar and gave me a quick once over making me self-conscious. Had I chosen the wrong kind of clothes to apply to be a waitress?

  “Hello, Timbre. Interesting name. I’m Ford Turner. I’m the manager.” I shook his hand. “Tell me what kind of experience you have working in a bar? Waitressing, bartending, barbacking, dishwashing, food handling?”

  “Oh, uh.” Get it together, Timbre. “I waitressed in a restaurant before. I handled food, did some bussing and dishwashing. I’ve never worked in a bar, though.”

  He stared down at my boobs making me feel weirdly uncomfortable. “Well, I need another cocktail waitress since the one who works with Jenna quit last night. It’s a fast-paced job once the evening hours hit. It’s wild in here on Friday and Saturday nights since we have a band on those nights. Do you think you’re up for it?”

  “Sure. I mean, yes, I am up for it.”

  He returned to the bar and pulled out a clipboard from a drawer down below the counter. “Fill out this paperwork. You’ll need to wear shorts and a tight t-shirt from the bar. If it ever gets cold, you can wear jeans with the tee. Feel free to tie it up or split the neck or cut out the sleeves if you want. I’m sure you know the more skin, the better the tips.”

  I looked up at him. Was he joking with me? From the blank look on his face, I decided he wasn’t. I stood in a bar that catered to mostly singles and loud groups. Yeah, more skin probably did equal better tips. Earning the most I could each night became my ultimate short- term goal, so bring on the scissors. This would never be my career choice, but bills demanded otherwise for now.

  “I’m assuming you can come in tonight since I’m one waitress short.” He continued to stock the liquor behind the counter.

  “Yes, I can.” Score one for me. I would have money in my pocket tomorrow morning when I woke up. That would be a change and change was good.

  “Come in around five, Jenna will be here to get you started. If the evening goes well, the job’s yours.”

  I felt like leaping from the bar stool and attacking him in a boss/employee kind of way. If he only knew how happy this made me. I didn’t, though. Instead, I stuck my hand over the bar to shake his. “Thank you, Mr. Turner. I will do my best, I promise.”

  He shook my hand. “Just show up on time, do your job, and don’t quit in a week or two, and we’ll all be happy campers. And it’s F
ord by the way.”

  “Okay, Ford. See you at five.” I practically skipped out the door with my two new tees. I had a job that gave me instant money and a little check twice a month. My day immediately improved one hundred percent.

  I looked in the mirror above the sink. My makeup needed to be a little heavier with the dark interior of the bar. I stood applying more when my new BFF walked in the bathroom of the shelter.

  “Jenna! What are you doing back here?”

  “Came by to see if you wanted a ride. I managed to keep my car. Ford called and said he hired you, and we’d be working together tonight, so I thought we’d go in together.” She stared into the mirror next to mine adjusting her lipstick with her fingertip.

  “Thanks so much. Really, for everything.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. You haven’t worked the bar with all the old men and their wandering eyes and hands.”

  “Ewww. Really? Are they gonna, you know, like be pinching my butt and stuff?”

  “Probably not. Ford would shoot them, but don’t think they won’t cop a feel every chance they get. If any of them get too frisky, tell him. He’ll set them straight. The regulars know that, and the new customers learn pretty fast.”

  “Good to know. I’m not sure how I’ll react to that. The restaurant I worked in wasn’t like that. More of a family place, you know.”

  “Yeah, that’s not what you’re getting here, at least Monday through Thursday. This is a bar on Congress, nothing more. Mostly men come in to drink a beer, maybe shoot some pool, talk shit to each other. That sort of thing.” She turned and leaned against the sink eyeing my clothes.

  “What’s wrong? Isn’t this appropriate for working there?”

  “Not if you want to earn the best tips. You have any shorter shorts? Like ones that make that great ass you have look even better?”

  “Uh, well, yeah. I do have some short ones from college that I’ve refused to let go of, but my butt’s a little more filled out since then so they’re pretty tight. I keep saying I’m going to lose a few pounds or exercise enough to make them look more presentable.”

  “Bitch, you don’t want them to look presentable. Your butt’s to die for like it is, but you need to show off those ‘assets.’” She laughed at the way she said it which made me laugh, too. I needed some fun in my life, and Jenna seemed good for it.

  “Let me show you, and we can decide.” I ran to my suitcase and dug out the tattered shorts. I couldn’t let them go when I packed what my suitcase would hold. I’d attended many ACL festivals in those things, and I knew I’d look good in them again one day.

  I dropped my longer shorts on the floor and pulled on the old ones. When I turned and looked at my butt in the mirror, my cheeks peeked out when I barely bent at the waist.

  “Now that’s what I’m talking about… those are perfect.” She stood behind me in the mirror and pulled the t-shirt tight and twisted the back so my stomach almost showed.

  “I can’t wear it this way. It’s too tight and high.”

  “Yes, you can, and if we find some scissors, we’re going to cut a slit in the neck, so the girls make an appearance, too.”

  “No, my butt showing’s enough. My stomach will show, too, if I even move.”

  “Just saying, girl. You want the tips… you entice the customers. You’re young and beautiful and have a body to die for, although you’re a little on the skinny side. Use your best assets to make the most money. The only thing that would look better are heels, but Ford says they’re dangerous on the slick floor.”

  “How would I ever walk in heels for that many hours? My feet would scream at me.”

  “Yeah, but your legs would look great in them, too. They’re long and tanned, but you know what heels do for them.”

  “Well, my red Chucks won the position when he said I wouldn’t sit down for eight plus hours.”

  “Most of the girls wear them, so they’ll be fine. You ready?”

  “I guess so. Let’s do this.” I glanced in the mirror one last time looking for the confidence I didn’t feel.

  I didn’t expect the bar to be crowded on a Tuesday night, but I did expect a few more people than sat around the room. I honestly didn’t understand why Ford had me come in. Jenna could work this entire room with no help at all.

  “Timbre, you look lost,” Ford called to me from his spot behind the bar.

  “Oh, sorry. Is there something else you want me to do?” I glanced around at the few people.

  “It’s early still. It’ll pick up around ten and last until two—always does. It’s like the men have to go home and get into it with their old ladies before they show up here for the night.” He wiped the insides of glasses before reshelving them.

  “So this is typical? I just expected more people already.”

  “I had you come in early so you could get used to the place before it got crowded. Tuesday isn’t the biggest day which makes it a good day to start.”

  “True. Thanks again for hiring me. I needed a job, badly.” I pushed my hair behind my ear and looked down.

  “Yeah, I kinda got that from seeing you earlier. You living over at the shelter where Jenna moved from?” I nodded. “The address matched her old one, so I figured it.”

  “It’s only temporary since I lost my last job. I haven’t been able to find another one in the same field. So when my roommate moved to L.A., I couldn’t afford to keep it since he paid the rent.”

  “Does this mean you’re going to continue to look for a job in the same field?” He quoted me.

  “Oh, no. Not right away. I need the money, and since tips are instant, this is perfect for me right now. So you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.” I smiled at him hoping to add to my statement confirming my decision.

  “Good to know,” he nodded his head toward the door when he said it, indicating to people walking through the doors.

  I wiped the bar off where I stood, threw the bar rag to him, and turned to look at my next potential tip. Nothing prepared me for what I saw. Standing at the door, looking hotter than a group of guys had any right, were five men that took my breath away. They all looked familiar, but it was dark at the doorway where they crowded their bodies through. Did men like this really exist and hang out together?

  “Oh, my God,” I said aloud when I recognized the men. Jenna walked up behind me.

  “What’s going on, hun?” Jenna asked.

  I stood staring as they walked in and moved toward the tables in the back by the pool tables.

  “Oh, those guys? Yes, they come in sometimes, but they usually have some women with them.”

  “Do you know who that is?” I whisper-yelled it to her. I knew I’d fangirled out on her. “That’s Assured Distraction.” I couldn’t believe she acted so nonchalantly about these guys taking up a huge booth in the back.

  “I’m not a fan of rock music. I’ll take my country music any day over it. But hey, if it’s your thing, go wait on them.”

  “I can’t. I don’t think I could stop staring long enough to remember their order. I’d look like a damn fool.”

  Jenna laughed at me. “Girl, they’re just men. They put their pants on one leg at a time.”

  “No, you’re wrong. These are like gods in their own right. They probably snap their fingers, and their pants appear.”

  “Shit. You do have it bad. Come on. I’ll do the talking and you can stare.” She grabbed my elbow and shoved me forward. The potential for this turning into a disaster ran through my mind. When we approached the table, I put my face down. I know red glowed from it, and I felt so stupid. A twenty-four-year-old woman should not act like a lunatic over a group of hot men.

  “What can we get y’all today?” Her voice didn’t hold an ounce of thrill in it.

  “Let’s have five Shiner Boch’s, please,” the blond one on the outside said. I finally glanced up, and my eyes landed on someone I thought I recognized. I had to be wrong. He never mentioned being in a band. Of course, why would h
e?

  He looked at me and back down at his phone. His head jerked back up and he looked at me again, only harder this time.

  “Timbre?” he said it softly. Maybe he didn’t know if it was me.

  “Ye-Yeah?” I stumbled over the word.

  “Did you get another job?”

  “No, uh. No.” I didn’t want to talk to him about this. He never got in touch with me after I left that lame excuse for a message on his phone. Why did he care now?

  “So, you don’t work here?”

  “Yeah… yes, I work here.” I didn’t need to act shy because I was better than that. I still had my pride.

  He pushed on the blond to let him out. “Move, KeeMac. I need to talk to her.”

  “Oh, yeah?” The blond didn’t move but turned to me instead. “So you know our boy, Hayden here?”

  “Sorta.”

  “Move, dumbass. I need to talk to her without you in the way.” Hayden pushed on the big guy again. The others started laughing.

  I looked around at the table. I must be sleep walking.

  “Well, hell, what kind of answer is sorta? This guy right here knows a lot of pretty ladies.”

  “Quit being a douche bag and move, KeeMac,” Hayden said again, and the table laughed once more but then the others chimed in to let Hayden out.

  Jenna turned to me and said quietly, “You didn’t say you knew one of them.”

  “I didn’t know it until I got a good look at him,” I whispered back to her.

  Keeton MacDonald, the lead singer for Assured Distraction, finally stood and towered over me. “Now be nice to the kid here. He’s kinda shy around the women still, even though he’s a grown man.” This started another round of hoots and comments.

  “Dude, I’m a grown-ass man. Quit starting shit, please.” He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me to the other side of the pool tables away from them.

  “What are you doing working here, Timbre?” He kept his hand wrapped around my arm.