Page 3 of The Reluctant Roommate

“I’ve worked bar in Queensland, waitressed at weddings and events,” Heidi said.

The man grunted. “Australian accent?” At her nod, he said, “You legal to work?”

“I have a green card and social security number.”

“Will need to see your papers. You girls got transport?”

“Not yet,” Lula said.

“Week’s trial. Afternoon shift. If I take you on after that, you’ll get evening shifts too.”

“When do we start?” Lula asked.

“Today, if you want. Can get rid of my useless nephew. He doesn’t want to be here anyway.”

“What’s the pay?” Heidi asked.

“Eleven dollars an hour. Plus tips.”

Heidi hesitated. That was below the legal minimum in Denver. And it didn’t look as if there would be much in the way of tips. The two drinkers at the bar had a pile of silver in front of them. Did they even tip a dollar? “That’s low.”

“That’s what you get for your week’s trial.” The man hitched his pants up under his gut.

“And after that?” Was this just a scam to get low-paid workers? Would there be no job after the week’s trial?

“If you’re okay, you’ll get minimum wage, plus tips. You’ll do all right on evening shifts with the tips.”

It wasn’t as if she had much choice right now. At least she should earn enough to pay for her hostel accommodation. Her toes curled in her boots. It didn’t feel right, but it would do—for now. She glanced at Lula, gave the tiniest nod.

Lula turned to the owner. “We accept.” She stuck out her hand. “Lula Diaz.”

“Robert.” He shook her hand and turned to Heidi. “What’s your name, Aussie?”

“Heidi Lincoln.” She shook his hand. “Ready to work.”

“Good girl. I’ll get Luis to show you the bar. I’ll show Lula the kitchen and server area.”

“What about paperwork?” Heidi asked. “And when do we get paid?”

“You can do the paperwork after your shift. You’re on the clock now. You get paid at the end of the week.” He leveled a glare at her. “And there’s cameras here. I’ll see what you’re doing.”

Of course he would. Heidi suppressed a sigh. She just hoped she earned enough to get by while she looked for something else.

Chapter 3

What a Difference aDMakes

A couple of days later, Morgan stepped out of her office building and pulled her collar up. October in Denver and the flakes were already whirling out of the sky. The forecast predicted a couple of inches by morning. She trod carefully over the powdery snow toward Snarf’s Sandwiches.

The sidewalk was busy with office workers, most going north to downtown, where there were more lunch options, but Snarf’s was closest for Morgan. She could get a sandwich and be back at her desk in under fifteen minutes.

She passed Foxies, the bar where she’d met the Australian a few days earlier. Had she found where Foxies had moved to? Or, more likely, it seemed the bar had simply closed. Nothing seemed to have changed—the bar was still dark, still with the stools on the tables. She reached Snarf’s and stamped her feet on the mat before heading up to the counter to order a small turkey and Swiss, and a cup of tomato soup.

Back in the office, Morgan returned to her cubicle and set down her lunch. Out of habit, she tapped the keyboard to see if there were any messages in the fifteen minutes she’d been gone.

One jumped out at her, or more precisely, the big redUrgentflag next to it. Her boss. She opened it. My office. Now.

Morgan pursed her lips, looked at the cup of soup next to her keyboard. David’s summons could be good or bad. It could be an important new client he was throwing her way, one that he wanted her to prioritize—at least in the short while. Or it could be extra reporting he wanted her to take on, or a new staff member to mentor—neither of which she had time for.