Page 3 of Boss Daddy
Tilly
Making my way up High Street, I find myself standing in front of the Stomp & Swill bar. It’s fairly new in town, barely open six months. From what I hear, it can get pretty crazy in here. I’m not sure I’m ready to have men throwing money at me while I dance and pour liquor down their throats. I mean, I can do the pouring part, but dancing, even flirting, are foreign concepts to me.
But I need the money, and I have zero qualifications for anything else.
I raise my hand and knock, seeing through the window that a guy with spiked brown hair and black eyeliner is restocking the bar. He spots me and moves to the other side of the door. “We’re closed, sweetheart. Come back at five-thirty when we open.” I can barely hear him through the glass.
“I’m here about a job,” I yell back, fighting against the noise of the street behind me.
“There’s no Rob here,” he says, scrunching up his face and turning away.
“No. Ajob.I need work.”
He stops moving, turns around, and flashes a straight-toothed smile my way. “Can you pull a beer?”
“I’ve been working at O’Sullivan’s since I turned twenty-one in March.”
“Show me.” He pulls the door open and waves his arm to usher me in. When I hesitate, he purses his lips. “Do you want a job or not? I don't have all day.”
“Oh, sorry,” I say, hurrying to step inside.
He leads me to the bar and gives me about a second to look around before he starts throwing orders at me. At first, I’m not sure what’s going on. But I quickly realize he’s giving me a test to see if I can handle the pace here. I twist my long blonde hair into a knot on my head and get to work. He’s obviously never worked St. Patrick’s day in an Irish pub before—it was one of my first shifts, so I step up to this challenge with little trouble, lining up the orders without breaking a sweat.
“Good.” He nods, an interested gleam in his eye. “But can you dance?”
“Uh…” My cheeks flame. “Not really. I mean, I’m not sure.”
Tilting his head to the side, he frowns. “Not sure? How can you not know if you can dance?”
“Well, of course I can dance, just like anyone else can dance. But there haven’t been many occasions for dancing on bars in my life, so if I’m being honest here, I’m not sure how I’ll do with that particular requirement of the job, sir.”
“Sir,” he repeats with a chuckle. “Why in God’s name would you callmesir?”
I open my mouth, closing it again when I’m unsure what words I should be letting out. “Well,” I start. “I don’t know your name.”
“Queen,” he states. “If you must call me anything other than Elijah—which is my name—then you may address me as queen. I run the girls, so you’ll answer directly to me.”
“Wait. Are you telling me I have the job?” My eyes go wide, and I bite my lip to hide my smile.
“If you can be here at five, you have a job. But, sweetheart, you must learn to dance, or you won’t last long here.”
“Oh, I will,” I say. “I’m a real fast learner.”
He laughs. “That’s what they all say. How about you clean up this mess while I get you some paperwork? Oh, and I should probably ask your name.”
“Tilly,” I say, beaming while hoping my financial troubles are about to be a thing of the past. “My name is Tilly Adams.”
“Well, Tilly Adams. Welcome to the Stomp & Swill.”
