“Trouble follows runners,” he repeated.
Samantha looked directly at him.
“The trouble I’m running from wears tailored suits.”
Wyatt waited.
“He doesn’t come through doors unless he thinks the people behind them are weaker than he is.”
Something flickered in Wyatt’s expression.
Recognition, perhaps.
Grizzly reached for the cigarette burning in the ashtray beside him.
“You look like you weigh a hundred and twenty pounds.”
“Hundred twenty-eight.”
“You look like you can’t lift a keg.”
“I can roll one.”
A man laughed.
Samantha continued.
“I pour fast. I count change. I don’t steal. I don’t ask questions I don’t need answers to. And I’m not afraid of loud men.”
That last statement was not entirely true.
Grizzly seemed to know it.
But he also seemed to respect the effort.
“Trial shift.”
Wyatt looked at him.
“Boss.”
Grizzly raised one hand again.
“Trial.”
Then to Samantha:
“You start tonight.”
Relief hit so hard she almost swayed.
Grizzly pointed toward the end of the bar.
“Aprons are underneath. Register stays twenty dollars over base. If it’s short because of you, you’re gone.”
“Understood.”
“You see something that doesn’t concern you?”
“I didn’t see it.”
“You hear something through the back door?”
“I didn’t hear it.”