I’m an idiot for not telling him in the first place. For thinking I could hide something as massive as this. But that’s exactly what I did, preferring to try and ride it out and somehow stay employed until I found myself in court or worse yet, in jail.
Guess the unemployed part’s going to happen first though.
When I get to the bar, it’s still closed, so I head around to the back entrance and let myself in. I walk into the office, but it’s empty and so make my way to the staff room where I find Ken sitting at the table, a whole bunch of papers and invoices spread out in front of him.
“Isn’t that my job?” I say with a forced smile, trying for a joke to lighten the mood.
Ken looks up, gives me a quick smile before indicating the chair across from him. “Hey, Caleb, thanks for coming down early. Have a seat.”
I pull out the chair and sit down, wishing I could also have a beer at this point. Anything to take the edge off my nerves over what’s about to be said. “No problem. What’s up?”
Ken takes off his glasses, laying them on the table before resting his arms in front of him. “I just want to start by saying I really think you’ve done a great job here, Caleb.”
Fuck, he really is firing me.
“I know it’s not easy to come into a place, take over, and turn it around, but that’s exactly what you’ve done. Profits are up, costs are down and the staff are all working well. I really can’t commend you enough for this.”
I nod once. “But…?”
Ken gives me another smile. “But,” he continues, his eyes flicking to the papers on the desk in front of him.
I can only imagine what he’s thinking right now. How can I let a criminal manage my bar? What if he attacks a customer? What if he steals from me? Maybe he’s already stealing?
“I’ve been approached by—”
“I get it,” I immediately say, cutting him off. I don’t need to hear all the shit someone’s obviously been telling him and I sure as shit don’t need to hear Ken’s fake compliments or bullshit excuses about why he now has to let me go.
I push my chair out and stand, fixing a fake smile on my face as I say, “Thanks, Ken. I appreciate all you’ve done for me.” Then I turn to leave the room, heading toward the office to grab my things.
“Wait, Caleb,” Ken shouts, the sound of his chair scraping along the floor echoing into the hall. “Hold up.”
I stop, turning to face him, and see the confused look on his face. “What?” I ask. “You’re firing me, right? You’ve obviously heard about what I did and you don’t want me working here. I get it, seriously. It’s all good.”
Ken’s brows narrow as he stares back at me. “I’m not firing you,” he says.
“You’re not?”
“No,” he says with a laugh.
“Then what’s this about?”
Ken holds an arm out. “Come and sit down,” he says.
I walk back into the room, taking a seat across from him again. Ken shuffles the papers on the table in front of him into a neat pile before finally looking back up.
“Okay, so now we’ve established you’re not getting fired,” he says, smiling. “I do want to say that yes, I did hear about what happened, Caleb and while I’m not judging or assuming anything, it would’ve been good if you’d told me before I had to read about it in the news.”
I tip my head in acknowledgement, feeling like a complete asshole for him finding out like that. “Sorry about that.”
“I believe in the whole innocent till proven guilty thing, you know,” Ken continues.
I scoff. “Pity no one else does.”
Ken offers a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure none of this has been easy, especially in a small town like this,” he adds waving his hand around. “Are you doing okay?”
I shrug, running my thumbnail along a groove in the table. “It’s not ideal, obviously,” I say. “I mean the criminal charges have been dropped but I’m still looking at civil ones.”
Ken nods, letting out a breath. “Can’t be easy.”
I shake my head, not really wanting to talk about this shit with my boss. “So, if you’re not firing me, what did you want to talk to me about?” I ask, trying to steer the conversation away from the shit I’m dealing with.
Ken uncrosses his arms, flattening his palms on the table as he says, “I’ve decided to sell the bar.”
All of the air leaves my lungs in a rush. He may as well be firing me, because there’s a good chance that whoever buys this place isn’t going to want someone like me running it for them. Word travels fast in this place, especially when it involves a respected college professor from the local university getting the shit beaten out of him by some kid. It doesn’t matter that the charges have been dropped, people still assume I’m guilty and it’s an assumption that’s probably never going to go away, no matter what I do.
“Okay,” I reply, not sure what else I can say.
“Obviously this isn’t something you want to hear, but I will be making a case for the new owner to keep you on as the manager,” he says, smiling. “You’re an asset to this place, Caleb and the new owner would be a fool not to keep you on.”
“Yep,” I say, not really believing anything anymore. “Okay, well thanks for telling me,” I say, standing. “I should probably go and get ready for my shift.”
I push my chair back in, feeling the weight of Ken’s stare as he watches me. I avoid his gaze, moving to the doorway so I can just get the fuck out of here. Just as I step into the corridor though, Ken speaks.
“I hope you’re doing okay, Caleb,” he says, his voice sympathetic. “And if there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”
I nod once without looking back, before walking out.
Time passes quickly with the lunch rush and by the time Adam and I are sitting down to have a break, I’ve forgotten about Ken’s plans to sell and instead am thinking about that car from the security footage. Wondering if Ed’s managed to find out who it belongs to.
“Your future sister-in-law move to town yet?” Adam asks as he takes a seat opposite me with a plate of nachos in one hand and a beer in the other.
I raise a brow at him. “You do remember she’s underage, right? So no serving her in here.”
Adam grins, giving me a mock salute as he shovels a mouthful of food into his mouth. “She’s only underage for drinking, boss and yes I remember.”
I shake my head at him, realizing it probably won’t even matter soon. Whoever buys this place is probably going to want to put their own stamp on it and it’s unlikely to include any of the current staff, especially not the manager with the anger management issues and lawsuit hanging over his head.
“You’re hopeless,” I tell him.
Adam’s grin widens as he takes a mouthful of beer. “And you didn’t answer my question.”
I let out a laugh. “No, she’s not here yet,” I tell him. “Maybe next week, I think.”
“She staying with you?”
“No,” I say. “With another friend apparently.”