Chapter 25
Chapter 26
The stack of overdue notices glared accusingly up at Bailey from the backdrop of her wobbly kitchen table. Credit cards. Car payment. Student loans. Overdraft fees. They all read the same: “Dear Ms. Sinclair: Overdue. Demand for payment. Respond in ten days.” One after the other. What was not in the pile was what she needed most—the scholarship letter that would pave the way for her to return to law school in the fall.
She’d applied for every scholarship that she could conceivably be eligible for but had yet to receive a positive response. For years she’d put her life on hold for her family. This was her time, but now with the fall semester beginning in just over four months, her goal of completing her law degree was becoming more of a dream than a reality.
Bailey stuck the notices back in their envelopes and stared out of her third-floor apartment window at the approaching dusk that had turned the horizon into a soft rosey hue. She drew in a long breath. Sitting there wishing things were different wasn’t going to get the bills paid. She had a job to get to, and her shift at the Mercury Lounge would not wait for her. She pushed back from the table, and it rocked in response.
The Mercury Lounge was the hub for the who’s who of Baton Rouge, Louisiana. On any given night the patrons ranged from the average customer to politicians, business entrepreneurs, and entertainment and sports figures. She enjoyed her job. Meeting new people, listening to their stories and their problems fed her legal mind, and, of course, there were the regulars who came in to simply get free advice. Too bad that enjoying what she did for a living wasn’t enough to keep her afloat.
Fortunately, she had her side hustle with her best friend, Addison Matthews, whose business was catering parties for the rich and fabulous. The extra income certainly helped, but it was no longer enough.
Addison swore that if Bailey would loosen up and give a play to one of those sexy, wealthy men that were always hitting on her, she could put an end to the demand notices and collection calls and return to school. Not to mention the perks of having a man to warm that big empty bed of hers at night. Bailey had stopped listening to Addison. She knew all too well what running after money could do. It destroyed lives, and the trait ran in her family like a string of corrupted DNA, and she vowed to break the chain. That meant doing it on her own no matter how difficult that might be.
Bailey grabbed her purse, a light jacket and her keys then headed out, hoping on her way downstairs that her ten-year-old Honda—that was five years old when she bought it—would start, just as the ringing of her cell phone slowed her steps. She glanced at the name on the face of the phone. Her sister Tory. Her stomach knotted.
“Hey, sis.” She threw up a silent prayer. “What’s up?”
“Hi, Bailey. I know you’re probably getting ready for work.”
“I’m on my way out the door.”
“Um, you know I hate to ask...”
“What is it, Tory? What do you need?”
“You don’t have to say it like that,” she whined petulantly.
Bailey silently counted to ten. “What do you need, sis?”
“I’m behind on my rent.”
“Again? Tory...”
“I just had more expenses than I thought this month.”
“More shopping and partying.”
“That’s not fair!”
“How much, Tory?”
“Twelve-hundred dollars.”
Bailey’s jaw tightened. She did a quick calculation in her head. Giving her sister twelve hundred dollars would dig deep into her savings, set her back on her own plans. But Tory was her younger sister, and she swore when their mother died that she would take care of her sisters, no matter what. “Fine. I’ll put a check in the mail.”
“Thank you, Bailey. I really appreciate it. I swear I’m going to do better, sis.”
“Sure. Listen, I gotta go.”
“Okay. Thanks again. Love you.”
“Bye, Tory.” She disconnected the call, and her shoulders slumped.
* * *
Bailey arrived at the Mercury Lounge, and the instant that she stepped through the doors she felt the energy and knew that it would be a busy night. Busy was good. Busy meant plenty of customers and lots of tips. She finger-waved and lifted her chin in salute to several of her coworkers as she strolled through the lowest level of the tri-level venue. She still had about an hour before her shift started and plenty to do until then.
Although she was originally hired as a mixologist three years earlier, the owner, Vincent Mercury, “saw something” in Bailey, and when an opportunity presented itself, he offered her the assistant manager spot with a nice bump in her salary. Combined with her duties of running the bars, things started looking up for her financially. That all changed, with one thing after the other.
“Vince in back?” Bailey asked Kim, the Friday night hostess.
“He went upstairs to check on the setup in the private dining room. We have that party tonight.”
Bailey squeezed her eyes shut for an instant. She’d totally forgotten. “Right.” She should have come in earlier. “Guess I’d better get busy.” She continued on toward the back offices tucked along a narrow corridor. She dug her keys out of her purse and unlocked her makeshift office that had been transformed from a storage room that was about a half inch bigger than a walk-in closet. The tight space was big enough for a desk the size of a small kitchen table, two chairs and a six-drawer file cabinet. She’d had the room painted white and hung a floor-to-ceiling mirror on one wall to give the illusion of space. A couple of potted plants, two wall paintings and a framed photo of her and her siblings made the space cozy without feeling overcrowded.
Bailey unlocked her desk drawer, put her purse in and locked it again. She opened the cover of her laptop and powered it up. The first thing that she needed to check was that all the staff that was scheduled for the night shift was accounted for and had not called out. Then she had to plan the scheduling for the week, verify the details for an upcoming local company luncheon and approve an order for linens that was requested by the floor manager. By the time she was done, it was about fifteen minutes before her shift at the bar was to begin, but she wanted to make a quick stop up to the private dining room and make sure that Vince didn’t need her for anything before she got behind the bar.
* * *
The private dining room was on the third level. One wall was glass and looked out over the city’s horizon. The space seated fifty comfortably, and for bigger events one wall retracted to join the next room that could accommodate another one hundred guests.
When Bailey got off the escalator the waitstaff was fully engaged in preparation. She spotted Vince on the far side of the room, giving directions while checking his clipboard.
“Hey, looks like you have everything under control,” she said, sidling up to him.
He barely glanced up at her over the rim of his glasses. “There’s always something that doesn’t get done,” he said, and his tone clearly relayed his annoyance.
“What happened?”
“The centerpieces were supposed to be crystal goblets with white orchids floating in water.” His brow cinched as he ran his hand through his golden-blond hair.
Bailey looked at the centerpieces, which were lovely but clearly not what Vincent