by Starr, Faith
Lizzie:No, silly. I just think she’s beautiful and talented.
Ryan:Damn. You spoiled the visual I had going.
Lizzie:Bye again, Ryan.
Ryan:Bye, Lizzie. And PSSS, you’re much prettier than she is.
Aww. My brows dew together, my heart all fluttery and my shoulders dropping.
Lizzie:That’s because I’m tangible. She’s a fantasy.
In all actuality, was she? Ryan was famous. Ariana was famous. Me and my stupid mouth.
Ryan:Not to worry. You’ve been getting way more airtime in my fantasies. She’s gotten none. So that puts your theory to shame.
Lizzie: Be sure to keep in your pretentious mind that I too am a “Dangerous Woman” and we should get along splendidly.
Ryan:Bring on the danger, babe. I’m all for it.
Lizzie: We can’t start this again. I’m sitting in the parking lot at the club.
Ryan:Be safe. See you tomorrow.
Be safe. How thoughtful. The flutters in my heart doubled.
Okay, Lizzie. Pocket these thoughts and go inside.
“Lizzie, Nina called in sick. Please fill in for her.”
Robert didn’t ask. Rather, he demanded. I had barely put both feet inside the club.
He knew I had been a bartender in the past, but I had specifically told him on several occasions that I only wanted to be a server.
“It’s been a while. I’m probably rusty. Besides, I’d prefer not to be behind the bar. I’m perfectly content taking care of customers in my station.”
“Glad to hear it, but I’m out a bartender, and it’s Friday night. You know how to mix drinks, which means tonight you get to play bartender.”
“What about my tables?”
“Don’t worry your sweet ass about that. I’ll take care of it. Now go set up the bar with Mike while I figure out the stations.”
My sweet ass? I rolled my eyes. What a jerk.
“Hey, Lizzie.” Mike greeted me with a head nod. He was busy setting up. “Did Robert tell you Nina’s out?”
“Yup.” I stashed my purse underneath the bar.
Mike cocked a brow. “You’re filling in for her?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Robert didn’t give me much of a choice.”
“Have you ever bartended before?”
The distress on his face would soon disappear.
I snatched an apron from behind the bar. “Yes, sir. I was a bartender for several years.”
“No shit? Why didn’t I know that about you?”
It wasn’t something I bragged about for reasons like tonight. I didn’t want to be a substitute for whichever bartender called in sick or was on vacation.
“Because I gave it up.”
“Why would you do that?” He resumed stocking the bar.
He pointed to a bowl of fresh limes for me to start cutting. I tied my apron behind my back first.
“Wasn’t big on it.” I washed my hands in the little sink and attended to the limes.
“Fridays and Saturdays are crazy back here. You up for it?”
Did I have a choice?
“It is what it is.” My favorite line.
After finishing with the limes, I sliced the lemons.
“You need help setting up your well?”
“No, thanks. I’ll take care of it.”
Mike nodded in approval and continued doing his thing.
The set-up procedure came naturally to me. Once the lemons were finished, I stocked the rack with rum, vodka, gin, brandy, whiskey, scotch, bourbon, and tequila, in that precise order. It was the standard taught to me during bartending school—a mistake in itself.
Behind me, I organized another rack of commonly used goods: Absolute, Tanqueray, Bacardi, Jose Cuervo, Dewars, Johnny Walker, Jack Daniels, Seagram’s VO, Kahlua, and Grenadine.
Bartending was all about speed and ease of access. Having everything at my disposal would make my job that much easier when it got hectic later.
When Mike and I had everything prepped, I excused myself to go to the restroom. Getting centered was paramount. The nervous sweating and trembling hands had to go. Customers hadn’t even entered the club yet, and I was already a basket case. I prayed it would be so busy I wouldn’t be able to think, just act—take orders, prepare drinks, serve, repeat—until my shift ended.
A splash of cold water on my cheeks helped ground me. I could do this. I wouldn’t let the servers or demanding men who hung around the bar get to me. Plus, Mike said he’d help out if I got in a jam. Sadly, I still didn’t feel assured.
Back behind the bar, I got myself a tall glass of water and chatted nonsense with Mike. Customers slowly drifted in. The first dancer wasn’t scheduled to perform for another hour. Patrons usually wandered in sporadically at the beginning of the night.
A guy sat on the other side of the bar, staring at my cleavage with no eye-contact whatsoever. “Hey, sugar. Where’s Nina?”
“She’s sick. What can I get you?”
“What’s your name, sweet lips?”
“Lizzie. What’ll you have?” I had no patience for men who felt they could speak to women with so little respect. As a server, customers rarely engaged me in lengthy conversations. It was a definite plus. But as a bartender, playing the role of therapist and BFF came with the territory.
“What are you doing later?” He tipped his chin in my direction.
Not him. That was for damn sure.
“Sorry. I’m not on the menu.”
“That’s too bad. You’re spicy. I love all things spicy.”
“Then you’ll love a Bloody Maria.”
He quirked a brow. “Enlighten me. What’s a Bloody Maria?”
“It’s a bloody Mary with Tequila instead of vodka.”
“Sounds tasty. I’ll take one.”
I grabbed a highball glass and added ice. Next up was tomato juice, tequila, a few hits of Tabasco sauce, a spot of Lime juice, a sprinkle of pepper and… I searched the bar. Yes! Mike had celery salt. Go figure.
I gave the drink a mix, added a stalk of celery and a lime wedge, and voilà, a Bloody Maria. If I’d had Worcestershire sauce, I would’ve added a few dashes of that as well.
“Your Bloody Maria.” I placed the man’s drink on a cocktail napkin in front of him.
He watched me while he took a sip. “Mmm. I’m surprised I’ve never heard of this before. I’ll have to tell Robert that you’re a keeper.”
Lucky me.
“I’m a server. I’m merely filling in for the night.”
“Why waste your talents serving when it’s obvious you have skills that could be put to better use?” He eyed my chest again. Instinctively, I crossed my arms over it.
“I enjoy serving, but thanks for the compliment. Do you want to start a tab or would you rather close out now?”
“I was going to sit at a table and watch the show, but now I think I’d rather stay here. You can go ahead and start a tab.”
The flirty eyes thing he had going made me feel sick to my stomach.
“Suit yourself.”
I moved on to the next customer who sat down, then the next, and the next. Fortunately, it became a whirlwind of events and boom! My shift had ended.
“You did an excellent job tonight. You should think twice about giving up bartending,” Mike said.
Nope. My decision on that topic was firm.
“I appreciate it, but I’m perfectly content being a server. Thanks again for all your help.”
“You rocked it all by yourself. You didn’t need any.”
“We rocked it as a team.”
I finished the high five he initiated.
“Have a good night. I’ll see you next week.” He had told me earlier he’d be off the rest of the weekend.
“You too.”
A wave goodbye and off I went.
The parking lot was thinning out—most of the customers long gone by this hour.
Footsteps behind me caught
me off-guard and got louder the closer I got to my car.
“Hey, spicy bartender.”
Crap! It was Bloody Maria guy. I partially faced him and waved. I kept my body language tight so he wouldn’t think I wanted to engage in a conversation. “Have a nice evening.”
“It’s still early.” He stepped within grabbing distance and reached out for me. I jerked to the side, but he caged me in with his arms, my back now touching my car. “Why don’t we take the party back to my place? I could show you some of my talents.”
“I appreciate the offer, but for me it’s late.”
“Come on, sweet lips. It’ll be fun.” He swiped the back of his finger down my cheek. I cringed and tried to shove him off me, but the jerk was strong and didn’t budge.
“Please let me go.” I figured I would go with the polite route to see if it would work.
“Didn’t your mama teach you it wasn’t nice to be a tease?”
A tease?
He ground his erection into me.
“Get off me!” With all my might, I pushed him, but the fool wouldn’t release me.
“She told you no.”
Thank God!
Peter, one of the bouncers, must have seen what was going on. Part of his job was to make sure the dancers and other female staff weren’t harassed, both inside and outside the club.
The jerk off took one look at Peter and raised his hands in surrender, freeing me. “It’s all good, Thor.”
“It would be wise not to let me catch you touching one of our girls again. Am I making myself clear?” Peter’s pecs bulged as he stood between me and the ass.
Bloody Maria guy kept his hands up. “I don’t want any trouble, man. See you later, spicy girl.” He winked at me and took off toward his car.
A whoosh of air escaped me. “Thank you so much, Peter. I owe you one.”
“No problem. That’s what I’m here for. Now get in your car and lock up. Be safe.”
“You too, and thanks again.”
He waited until I was in my car before walking back to the club entrance.
My hands trembled on the steering wheel as I backed up and pulled out of the lot. That situation could’ve turned out very differently. I whispered a thank you to my Higher Power.
The roads were quiet being it was so late which helped lessen my nerves. Soft music playing on the radio didn’t hurt either. It didn’t take long for me to get home. As soon as I did, I took a hot shower to wash off the filth from the club.
Both of my jobs were causing me stress. I felt as if I went from one anxiety-producing situation to the next. I couldn’t wait to meet with Hailey in the morning, which was exactly what I did after getting a good night’s sleep.
“You look exhausted.” She sipped her herbal tea.
We sat next to each other in plush armchairs housed in the back of the coffee shop. I had my feet tucked underneath me on my blue chair, sans shoes, socks only.
“It’s been a long week.”
“And…” She rolled her hand, gesturing for me to elaborate.
“I met someone.” A smile broke out on its own—a gut reaction to picturing Ryan’s handsome face and everything else gorgeous about him.
She placed her cup on the small glass table in front of us, curiosity written all over her. “Do tell.”
“His grandfather is a resident at the center.”
Hailey rubbed her hands together. “Ooh. Tell me more.”
I put my hand up to simmer her enthusiasm. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. He’s leaving town in a few weeks. He’s on vacation. He took me out Thursday and is taking me out again tonight.”
She leaned back in her chair, wearing a frown. “That sucks. Why bother to start something that can’t go anywhere? The guy is geographically unavailable.”
“I know. I keep telling myself the same thing. There’s something about him, though, that makes me want to be around him as much as I can before he leaves.”
“And then what?” The tea was back in her hand.
“I don’t know. I’m torn.”
“I say get out now before you fall too hard.”
“Too late.”
“You’re still in the infatuation stage. Walk away before real feelings develop.”
Repositioning myself didn’t make the unease I felt any better. I tapped my foot vigorously on the floor.
“Stop doing that. It feels like we’re having an earthquake.”
“We don’t have earthquakes in Florida.”
“You get my drift. Back to what I was saying. Maybe you’re attracted to him because he’s unavailable. Did you ever think about it that way? He’s safe because he’s leaving.”
“It’s not that.”
“Then do yourself a favor and cancel your date. I hate to be the negative voice of reason, but I love you enough to tell you the truth. Where does this guy live when he’s not here on vacation?”
“You’re not going to believe it when I tell you.”
Now the debate became whether to tell her or make her squirm.
“Try me.” She took a sip of her tea.
“He’s on the road a lot, traveling.”
“What is he, a sales rep or something?”
“Or something.”
She drew her brows together. “Can you please expound?”
The squirming had begun.
“He mostly travels by bus. When he’s not doing that he lives here.”
“Bus? Is he a driver or something?”
“Again, or something.”
She set her cup on the coffee table again. “You’re starting to piss me off. Spill it already.”
Since I had fawned all over Ryan’s picture prior to going to sleep, it was the first screen that popped up on Safari when I opened the page.
“Hello? Are you going to tell me or not?”
“Patience. Do you know who this is?” I flashed her the picture on my phone.
“Yeah. It’s Ryan Josephs, the lead singer of On The Fence.”
Her knowledge about him and his band thrilled me. “You listen to their music?”
“Yeah. If you don’t, you’re missing out. But back to the topic at hand. Your distraction tactics aren’t working. I know what Ryan Josephs does. Tell me what your guy does that has him traveling on a bus.”
“Seems you already know.”
“Are you purposely trying to irritate me?”
“Not at all.”
“Umm… Does your guy play the piano or sing in a band? Is that what you’re alluding to?”
“This is him.” I beamed while bringing my phone to life again since the screen had gone black. Once Ryan’s picture reappeared, I pointed to him.
She glared at me. “Stop kidding around, Lizzie. I’m not in the mood for a game of Guess Who.”
“I’m not kidding, Hailey. Ryan is the guy I went out with. He’s taking me out again tonight. The one caveat? He hasn’t told me he’s in a band. I had no clue either until I overheard someone talking about his group.” I left out the from who and where. It wasn’t relevant.
“First of all, how can you not know who On The Fence is? They’ve become uber-popular over the last year. Second of all, what the fuck?” She bounced in her seat, causing her tea to spill on her lap. She reached for a napkin on the coffee table and patted her damp shorts. “Shit. That’s hot!”
“Ssh, keep it down.”
“I just burned myself, and you’re telling me to keep it down?”
“No. Not about that. About the other thing.”
“You mean the part about you fucking Ryan Josephs? I can’t believe it.” She spazzed out again, doing a mini dance, and spilled more tea on her lap. “Shit!” She blotted her damp shorts again. “I think it’s best if I don’t hold this right now.” She set the cup on the coffee table.
“Quiet,” I repeated.
We had gained the attention of two girls sitting at the next table.
“In my dreams,” I joked to them. They acknowledged us wit
h insincerity and went back to their conversation. “Please keep it down, Hailey,” I reprimanded in a hushed tone.
“Sorry. This is all a bit shocking. I can’t believe you went on a date with Ryan Josephs.” She whispered his name. “I want to meet him. Please. Please. Please.” Her hands came together in prayer formation.
“Don’t get all starstruck on me.”
“Let me get this straight. You met him at the center and had no clue he was a celebrity? Then he took you out, and the topic about him being in a famous band never came up?”
I shook my head. “Nope. He keeps skating around the subject. I don’t understand why he won’t tell me.”
“Hmm…” She scratched her chin. “Maybe he likes the fact you took interest in him without the knowledge of him being famous.”
“Possibly.”
“I can’t think of any other reason.” She collected her tea again and held it with both hands. “When you were out with him, didn’t people approach you guys and ask him for an autograph or a picture?”
“No.”
“You’re telling me nobody recognized him?”
“He did wear a baseball cap. I didn’t think anything of it. We were playing miniature golf. The place consisted mostly of families and children. Maybe a few couples. Then there were the annoying teenagers behind us, but none of them bothered with us. We went to a diner afterward, and nobody said a word to him there either.”
“Miniature golf?” She grinned.
“I know. Isn’t that cute?”
“Beyond adorable. Interesting that a big-time rock star took you on such a “normal” date.” She did the air quote thing. “Did he try to get frisky?”
“Nope. He was a perfect gentleman. Just a kiss. His texts, on the other hand, have been frisky.”
She sank deeper into her chair and peered up at the ceiling, sighing. “Can we do a Freaky Friday thing until he goes back on tour?”
“You’re hilarious.”
Her eyes shot to mine. “I wasn’t joking.”
“You’re married.”
“Doug wouldn’t have to know. Besides, we each have a celebrity free pass. I’ll make Ryan Josephs mine.”
“Oh my gosh, Hailey.”
“What? Who doesn’t have the fuck a rock star fantasy?”