Kings of Decay (The Winston Brothers Duet #1)

5. Willow

Chapter five

Willow

T he fire in the woodstove crackled merrily in the silence , broken only by the sound of my keyboard. It was only the first week of October, but every day felt like Christmas when there was a fire burning by the sofa.

I was curled up, working on my homework. Thankfully, I’d settled into a groove now and was able to focus on my studies during the days while my Dad was gone. The only time I left the house was to go into town.

I took a long sip of my tea and stretched before opening the next PowerPoint that our professor posted this morning.

“Good news!” Dad opened the door with a beaming smile.

I jumped in my seat, nearly throwing my laptop across our tiny living room. “Ah! Fuck, Dad, you scared me!”

“Language, missy,” my Dad wagged a finger at me.

I took a few deep breaths to calm my hammering heart.

Dad sat down on the wooden rocking chair across from me. “Guess what?”

“What?” His sudden enthusiasm blows me away. He was practically glowing.

“I got you a part-time job!”

I grimace. Surely, I misheard him. “What?”

“I pulled some strings and got you a job at the bar across from Rose’s store.”

My forced smile faltered further. “What?”

“Rose introduced me to the owner, and he needs someone to help out at night. So I said you used to work at the coffee place back in the city. He says he’d love to have you for a few hours during the week.”

I forced myself to take a sip of tea before replying. My hands are shaking. “Being a barista is different from bartending, Dad.”

“Yeah, but you’ll get the hang of it. Besides, it would do you some good to get out of the house now and then.”

“I’m not twenty-one,” I argue.

My Dad scoffs, waving his hand. “Like they care about ID up here? Besides, it’s cash.”

I can’t believe how he’s acting so nonchalantly about a, quite frankly, illegal cash job. I shook my head and set my shoulders. “I need to focus on school, Dad.” I motioned to my laptop for emphasis.

Dad’s smile slowly faded. “Oh, I thought you’d be happy, Willow. Don’t you miss working?”

I MISS MOM

The pain comes out of nowhere.

I bit back the words I really wanted to say. He’s so happy. It killed me to argue with him about this. Maybe he was right. Maybe a job would help me get out of my head and meet people.

“I guess it would be good to get out of the house,” I said hesitantly after a long pause.

“That’s my girl!” Dad cheered, slapping his knees. “It’s a nice place, and the boss is a cool guy. I promise it will be a great experience for you.”

***

A great experience, right?

I sucked in a breath as my dad drove away, leaving me in front of the bar.

Of course, it's the dive bar and not the nice one. That would have been too good to be true. The neon sign flickers.

PAYDIRT

Well, that was a fitting name for a bar if I’ve ever heard one. The bar was made of wood, with a tall facade that was probably the original from the gold rush days, or at least inspired by it. The wooden porch sagged under the weight of snow and slush.

I pushed open the heavy wooden door. A blast of warmth and the mingled scents of stale beer, fried food, and stale cigarette smoke hit me. Only seven pm on a Thursday, and the Paydirt is already buzzing.

I blinked, letting my eyes adjust to the dim light. The interior is a mishmash of rough-hewn wood, exposed brick, and faded mining memorabilia. A long, scarred bar dominated one side, lined with patrons nursing beers. The booths along the opposite wall are filled with groups of friends and the occasional solitary drinker lost in their thoughts.

The jukebox in the corner blasted classic rock, competing with the din of conversation and laughter. A pool table occupied the back, and it's green looks felt worn and stained. The whole place had a lived-in, well-loved feel to it. Shabby, but loved.

I braced myself for whatever my first shift might throw at me and walked towards the bar.

Behind the bar, a mountain of a man stood like a king watching over his court. He was the kind of burly that comes from decades of hard work, not the gym. His face was a map of time spent outdoors, weathered and lined, with a thick, salt-and-pepper beard framing a gruff, but not unkind, smile. His hands, large and calloused, moved with surprising deftness as he poured a pint, the muscles in his forearms flexing beneath a faded Paydirt t-shirt. He’d been the owner here for thirty years, according to Dad, a fixture as permanent as the worn wooden bar itself.

His bushy eyebrows pushed together as he noticed me walking towards the bar. “Ah, Miss Willow?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Nice!” He extended his hand and shook mine with the force of a giant. “I’m Todd. Nice to meet you. Your dad’s a good fella.”

“Thanks,” I managed to squeak before he started rambling about his bar and showing me around.

Now that I’m up close, I recognize him as the bearded guy who helped my dad get Harvey out of the snow and sobered up. Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen Harvey since.

“Alright then, let's get you acquainted with Paydirt." He led me behind the bar, the worn wood creaking under his weight.

"This here's the heart of the operation," he explained, gesturing to the rows of bottles and taps. "You'll need to know your way around this." He started pointing out the different liquors, beers on tap, and the basics of pouring a decent pint.

It's a lot to take in, but I tried my best to focus, scribbling notes in the small notebook I brought.

Next, he showed me the storage room, a dimly lit space packed with crates and kegs. "Inventory's key," he emphasized. "You'll be responsible for stocking the bar and keeping track of what we're running low on."

I nodded, feeling a bit overwhelmed but determined to prove myself.

Finally, we returned to the bar. "Now, the most important thing," Todd said, leaning in close. "These folks are like family. Treat 'em with respect, and they'll do the same for you. But don't take no nonsense either. You gotta hold your own in this place."

I took a deep breath, the weight of his words settling on me. It's a lot to grasp on my first day, but I'm ready for the challenge. "I understand," I said, meeting his gaze. "I won't let you down."

He gave me a curt nod. "Good. Now, get behind that bar, and let's see what you got."