Page 47 of Another Last Call
He chuckled. “Right, Mags. That kid’s not the boss till he’s earned it.”
“I’m twenty-eight,” Caleb said from his spot on the old green couch that was blocked by the open door, where he was reading the resumes I’d put in my “not as stupid as the rest of them” pile.
Big Tim peered around the door, not an ounce of shame on his face. “No offense. But I can’t call you ‘boss’ on principle, you know?”
“None taken,” Caleb said pleasantly. “Just clarifying that I’m not a kid. Technically, Mags is the youngest.”
“Hey!” I said.
Big Tim laughed. “Good point, rich boy.”
Caleb raised his eyebrows. “If the choice of nickname is between that and ‘kid,’ wanna go back to ‘kid’?”
“You got it, rich boy.”
I was worried Caleb would be upset, but he just laughed and shook his head.
“Anyway, Mags,” Big Tim said. “I dunno if we’re ready to go or not, but I don’t mind jumping in early if you wanna get a head start on that lineup.”
I frowned. “What lineup?”
“The one wrapping around the building waiting to get in and order food. ‘S gonna be a busy one tonight.”
I shot out of the office so fast that I nearly knocked Big Tim over, and considering his name was Big Tim and mine could have been Not Quite Average Height Mags, that was saying something. Sure enough, a glance out the front window showed what seemed like all of Marble Beach standing out in the cold, patiently waiting for the doors to open.
“What the hell?” I gasped as Caleb came up behind me. “How did they even know we were opening today?”
“Great turnout, eh?” Annie said brightly. “I called my cousins and asked ‘em to spread the word.”
I nodded mutely.
“It’s okay,” Caleb said. “We’ve got this. We’ve totally got this.”
“Don’t worry.” Annie put an arm around my and Caleb’s shoulders. “I did some extra prep, just in case. There should be more than enough.”
It was nowhere near enough.
Luckily, no one really seemed to mind when we ran out of burgers and Annie had to race out to the grocery store to get more ground beef. And no one yelled at me when every single table in the place was full and they had to wait for forty-five minutes before getting a seat. And when Caleb mixed up the soda lines and accidentally sent out a round of Long Island iced teas with splashes of root beer instead of coke, he put up with the good-natured razzing from the locals and smiled.
“Well, I just figured you’d want to try our signature drink,” he said smoothly. “That right there is a Marble Beach iced tea.”
He spent most of the rest of the night serving those up. To be honest, they were surprisingly good.
We’d been at it for a few hours and I was balancing a stack of dirty dishes in one hand and a tray of drinks in the other when Fred called out to me.
“We need some music at this party, Mags!” he said.
A few cheers of agreement went around the bar, even as I shook my head.
“Go get your guitar!” someone else suggested. “Play some music for us, Maggie.”
“If I stop to play the guitar, who’s gonna bring you your drinks?” I said, laughing.
Fred shrugged. “Sounds like you gotta hire someone to help out.”
“You offering?”
“With these old knees? You gotta be joking.”
