by Tasha Hart
“Count on it. I’ll be by later tonight.”
We hang up, and I look at the phone in my hand. There must be something in the Manhattan water supply. Everyone is acting very strangely. Well, except Frank. He’s the same.
Whatever is going on, I can’t really say I mind. Jason has uncharacteristically gone back on his decision and done something almost… generous? On top of that, Patrice seems like a tiger ready to pounce, and I’m the rabbit.
Something inside me really expected her to be more surprised, or even enthusiastic about my news. Still, I have every reason to believe that she’s going to fuck me in half tonight. That will be enthusiasm enough.
Fourteen
Patrice
“I wanted you to see me do this.” Roslyn bursts through the front door, waving a sheaf of papers.
“Just let me finish tallying inventory after last night.”
“Fuck that shit,” she closes the books for me, grinning so big, it’s a wonder the top of her head doesn’t pop off. “Take a look at this damn thing.”
She smacks the papers down on top of my account books, and I realize what it is. It’s the contract. “I can’t figure it out, but if I live to be a hundred, I’ll never complain.”
“Figure what out?”
“Look here.” Roslyn runs her finger down across the page and shows me the crux of the whole deal. All we pay is printing and carrying costs, and a portion of the ad placement fees. That’s it. Everything else is shouldered by the firm.
“Are you serious?” I knew we had Jason in a tight spot, but I didn’t expect this.
“We got the whole kingdom, baby.” For a second, I think Roslyn might hug me. “They are going to promote us like we’re a Fortune 500 company, and it’s damn near F-R-E-E.” Leaning back to give a whoop, Roslyn finally settles against the bar. “Break out the Remy Martin. We both need one for me to sign this.”
“We killed that, actually.”
“Say what?” She looks shocked.
“When we tightened up the bar, we took off a couple of the real top end bottles. In the end, we needed product we could move more of, for less money.” Roslyn almost winces to hear her own words come back at her, but she’s in too good a mood to let it get her down.
“Aw, fuck it girl, pour me a Hennessy. It’s all the same anyway. And whatever you want.” That sounds like a plan to me.
You don’t get to see it all the time, but this kind of easygoing nature is one of the things that makes me love Roslyn. The pressures of work may tamp down her joy sometimes, but she’s got a heart the size of Texas, and when things are going well, she shares it with everyone. It takes a cast iron constitution to be a female bartender in a predominantly black Manhattan nightclub, but this woman makes it worth it.
“To the future,” she says, holding up the generous pour I gave her. Why not pour hers to the top? It’s her booze, after all.
“To the future,” I match my glass to hers.
“And all that it may bring!” She lets out a bark of laughter, taps her glass on the bar and fires it back. Hennessy is too good for shooting, but I let her have her moment. “Damn that’s good,” she coughs out after making a face as if it were anything but.
Not one to waste the fine scotch I chose for myself, I savor a small sip and set my glass to the side.
“You got a pen, Trice?” Do I? Snagging my best one from the cup by the register, I hand it to her like a sword to the Queen of England. She takes a deep breath and signs the contract. You would almost think the place was ready to go under, the importance she’s giving this moment. Celebration is great, but she’s really relishing this.
“Whew! That felt good. Get me another one of these!” She shakes her glass at me, and I’m not one to contradict the boss. While my back is turned, pulling down the bottle, she says something that almost makes me drop it on the floor.
“You’re getting a bonus for this.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you! Don’t think I haven’t seen you with the white boy from this agency,” she waves the contract at me. “A company like this wouldn’t look twice at a place like this unless someone had what we might call a… vested interest?”
“Chase and I have a good time.” It feels good to hint to someone what it’s like to be with Chase. Roslyn cackles at the implication I have dangled out in front of her, and I join in the laughter.
“Good for you girl.” She clinks her glass against mine on the bar, “May we all have that kind of time. You must really be something if we’re getting all this at cost.”
My cheeks burn, and I take another sip of scotch. If only she knew the real reason why all this was working out. She should really be toasting herself for keeping that ramshackle security system running. There are a lot of clubs in town that leave the cameras up but cut the feed.
“Anyway,” she says after slamming back her second Hennessy, “bonus for you, baby.”
“That’s really not necessary…” I try to say, but she smacks her palm down on my account books.
“The hell it ain’t! We wouldn’t see any of this action if it weren’t for you. Here,” she starts digging around in her bag. “I brought this to the meeting with your boyfriend just in case, but I can use it just as well here.” In one sweep, she slaps the company checkbook down onto the bar. “Gimme that pen again.”
I’m numb, but I hand it to her. Even upside down, I can read the number she’s scrawling out, and it makes me cold all over. My heart flutters, and I take another pull of scotch to keep from falling down. That beautiful riiiiiiip rings out and she snaps the check into my hands.
“There you go, baby. You deserve it.”
My hands are almost shaking, and that hot line of water brims up along the bottom of my eyelids. Don’t cry. Not in front of Roslyn.
“It’s okay, Trice.” Her hand is hot on my arm, and I look her in those deep, ambitious eyes of hers. “I’ve got a feeling that money is gonna come back to the club tenfold.”
That’s a hard thing to imagine. This is enough for me, anyway. Sitting between my shaking fingers is a full semester of college.
Fifteen
Patrice
There are so many faces shouting orders at me, my head spins.
“Alright, fellas!” My hands are up over my head, and my voice rings out even over the thumping DJ and swirling conversations. “If you can’t figure out how to order one at a time, ain’t nobody getting shit. You feel me?”
“I’d like to!”
“Don’t get cute with me, or I’ll have Levon throw you out. Hey Levon?”
He cranes his neck over to me. “What you need, Trice?”
“Keep an eye on the one in the purple blazer.”
“Heard.”
Buddy in the purple shrugs like it’s nothing, and I flash him a smile that says I’m kidding—kind of. One by one, I pour out orders, and as soon as the first line filters away, another hoard trickles in to replace it. And, I’m not mad about it.
“Any chance you’ve got a bourbon back there?” Before I even look, I know it’s Chase. He’s been here every night for the last month, and if I weren’t crazy about him, his gloating over the boost in business would make me want to slap him. But the only slapping going on is his hands on my ass as I ride him every night.
“You see this one, Levon?” Again, my big man takes a lazy look over my way.
“I see too much of that cat these days,” he looks casually away. “Getting awful white around here, Trice.”
“Oh, hush.” Levon and I are forming a nice rapport. He’s been stationed closer to the bar since we had to bring on another new bouncer to handle the volume. Levon walks the floor, and Darnell watches the door.
“I don’t suppose you’re free tomorrow night?” Chase speaks as I set the bourbon down in front of him. He gets awful cute when he already knows the answer.
“Wednesdays are my day off, actually.” I say it like I’m some waitress in a seaside bar, picking up some sinewy sa
ilor, hungry from his time on the sea.
“Well then,” he takes a drink, “maybe I could, uh… maybe I could take you out.”
“Maybe you could.”
I love this kind of shit. Chase has a great sense of humor and loves to play little games. On top of that, he’s taken me to a nice dinner every single night I’ve had off since Roslyn signed that contract. I suspect he would have done it anyway, but it’s given him an excuse to be around.
He pretends like it’s about helping with the promotions and keeping an eye on his clientele, but I’d be very surprised to hear if he’s been this attentive with any of his other charges. Shit, there aren’t enough hours in the day.
“Hey, Chase!” We both look, and Roslyn is waving him over. “Come here, I want you to meet somebody.” By the clothes, I can tell it’s a high roller. One of the benefits of Chase being here every night, apart from the obvious, is that my boss gets to show him off. He’s great about it, too. Chase Connor is good at his job, and Sistaz is the living proof.
As my man walks across the floor, I take a long look at the ass I’ll be hanging on to while he hammers into me tonight. It almost makes me wet thinking about it right now.
“Bet you’re feeling pretty good, huh?” Levon has wandered closer, now that the flock of patrons clambering for drinks has lightened up.
“I am, actually.” It almost surprises me to say it. After fighting my way into this city and working my tail off to chase the dream I’ve been protecting, it only now dawns on me that I’m flirting with a thing I’ve never really known until now: happiness.
“You know something,” I say, “I really am.”
Levon just raises his eyebrows. “My mama always told me when I was young,” he drawls in that leisurely way of his. “When you see a light at the end of the tunnel, you’d better make damn sure it’s not a train.”
It’s like I’ve been punched in the chest. I clench my teeth and cut my eyes at him like Judas in the garden.
“Isn’t there some shit you’re supposed to be doing?”
“Yeah,” those eyebrows go up again. “Probably.”
“Well, you’d best get to doing it.”
As he sidles away into the crowd, I look over to where Chase is laughing with some well-dressed man in his fifties. Roslyn is looking like the cat who got the canary, and her hand is on Chase’s back.
I know for a stone-cold fact that he’s been in my bed every night for the past month, but the sight of it sends a chillingly familiar shiver through my soul. Maybe it’s all the time I spent with Jason. Once you’ve been cheated on, every person you’re with from that moment on has the potential to break your heart in the worst kind of way.
I’d love to say I know Chase isn’t like that, but now that the poison has been dropped in my ear, it’s going to be awfully hard to shake out. The seed that split the rock. For whatever reason, Levon has got me running over all kind of scripture.
“Hey, baby girl.”
I snap back to the present so hard, my breath comes up short. After all the times I’ve wanted to smack this man, in this moment it feels weirdly nice to see a familiar face.
“Let me guess,” I say with a broad, genuine smile, “cognac.”
“If you could manage it.”
“Baby,” I put my hand on his. “I know for a fact I’ve got some for you.” He looks down at my hand with that warm, flattered regret that tells me I’m going to get a good tip tonight. An acid feeling pools up in my stomach as I pour out his drink and slide it across the bar.
In answer, he raises the glass to me, keeping his eyes fixed on mine. He’s old enough to be my father. No wedding ring.
“Hey!” Chase has rolled up immediately to my right. His face is flushed and bright. “Any chance I could snag one of those?”
Sixteen
Chase
It’s after midnight when I finally get to splash a bit of hot, hotel sink water on my face. looking at my phone, I calculate it must be nearly two in the morning back in New York. All I want to do is text Patrice but given her long nights and early mornings for class, I’d hate to wake her.
I really should shoot her a line. Even just to let her know I’m thinking about her. Things have been so crazy out here this week, there’s been no real chance to break away and touch base.
The Chicago conference is the biggest one of the year, and it’s been nearly four solid days of seminars, breakout sessions and networking. If there’s one thing I pride myself on, it’s trying to be present in each moment. That means keeping my phone in my pocket, even when all I want to do is duck off to the side and fire sweet nothings off to my sexy powder keg back in the Apple.
To be fair, she hasn’t reached out to me either. That may be a cop out, but it does rankle me a bit that the burden always falls on the man to do the work. It would make me feel good to get even the shortest message from Patrice, letting me know that she’s thinking about me.
My phone buzzes on the dresser, and I race back into the bedroom to pick it up.
You still up? It’s Jason.
Yeah.
Cool. Be sure you go to the Digital Age thing tomorrow at one. Riley is making some real shit happen, and I want you in that room.
You got it.
That’s not the exchange I wanted to be having, but I keep reminding myself that I’m out here for work. I strip down to my boxers and fall back among the covers.
Just text her. You should text her. My phone is in my hands, then I toss it across the mattress. Coming to Chicago without her is a waste of a king-sized bed. Trice and I could have destroyed it nearly a dozen times by now. At least, if you count the number of times I’ve laid back on these pillows thinking about her.
She was weird when I told her I had to leave town for this conference. Honestly, she was acting strange for a couple of days before Jason picked me for this trip. I still went to the club every night, and we still spent long hours gripping each other in the dark, but there was something removed about her. Like she was leaning back.
Not that I can blame her. There have been times when I’ve almost wanted to put the brakes on. We’ve been moving really fast, and I’m in danger of letting myself have some very serious feelings about her.
Who am I kidding? I’ve been falling for this woman from the moment she ran that stop sign. The real question is, where is all this going? I have some suspicions about what I want, but how can I even begin to think about where her heart is? Patrice is an intelligent, dynamic, ambitious woman, and who could blame her if she wasn’t ready to be pinned down.
Okay, maybe I’ve pinned her down a few times. But, that’s beside the point.
It’s not just her. Not if I’m being honest. There’s something in me that’s been holding back as well.
All of the ambitions for the club have been met. Sistaz is as big a success as it’s ever been, and the popularity seems to grow every day. If Patrice said they needed Saturday night business on a Wednesday—they’ve got that and more. The weekends are so packed now, there are people who wait in line and never get in.
If any of my other clients had that kind of success, there’s no way I’d be hanging around every day. You can bet I’d be turning my attention to other places where the help is more desperately needed. Hell, there are files on my desk I haven’t thought about in weeks.
There’s one reason why I can’t shake that club—Patrice.
Before I left, I couldn’t imagine spending a night away from her, but some little devil inside me kept tugging me away from investing fully. Maybe I’m scared?
Goddamn right I am. I’ve never felt like this about a woman before. And, before you get too wicked about it, it’s not just the sex. She challenges me. Every move I make, Patrice seems to be around the corner waiting for me. In my life, that has been rare.
In point of fact, it’s only happened once before in my life, and Rebecca broke my heart so badly, I swore I’d never let it happen again. That’s lead to some really long, exciti
ng years of rolling around with lots of women I wouldn’t dare let close to me. There was passion, sure. Sometimes even chemistry. But any time it threatened to go past that, I ran.
Patrice is the first woman I’ve let crack the shell. In some ways, that’s pretty huge, and in others, it’s too much.
I should just text her. But it’s nearly three her time. If she’s going to make Quinlan’s radical fiction class, I should just let her sleep.
Let me just tuck my phone under the pillow. That way, if she wants me, I’ll feel it buzz and wake up. Shit, I need to get some sleep myself if I’m going to be any good for schmoozing at the breakfast buffet. That guy from Los Angeles gave me his card, so I should really find a chance to sit down with him and pick his brain.
Maybe he’s got something that could help the club. I mean, Sistaz is doing better than it ever has, but why not try to take it to the next level.
Next level. If I had any guts, I would text Trice and tell her I want to take our relationship to the next level. But, after all those drinks downstairs with the folks in the bar, I can’t imagine I’d have anything useful to say.
Seventeen
Patrice
2:37am.
Not a single message. Not a call. Nothing. As of midnight, it’s been five days. I toss the phone onto the mattress next to me and stare at the ceiling.
The pillow still smelled like him, so I turned it over. At first, I figured he was just busy I’ve never been to any kind of work conference, but I can imagine it’s pretty much go, go, go, from the minute you get up until you fall into bed. At least, that’s what I told myself.
But each day, I’ve felt him ghosting me more and more. Chase never seemed like that kind of guy, but here I am.
I haven’t stopped thinking about you all day.
Unable to stop myself, I’ve snatched the phone back up and started scrolling back through our messages. A couple of nights ago, I did it to reassure myself that he had feelings as strong for me as I have for him. Tonight, I’m searching for clues that he was never that invested to begin with. Anything to help me start letting him go.