Richard chuckled. “I’ve been sitting outside for half an hour now. Are you planning on spending the night here, or will you be needing me to take you home at some point?”
Frowning, Will poured himself another drink. “Funny.”
“Are you alone?” Richard asked.
“Just me and my whiskey, my friend. And you’re more than welcome to come join me.”
“Are you in the club, or your office?”
“My office.” Hanging up, Will leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ease the headache he could feel building. But upon closing his eyes, Mila’s face infiltrated his thoughts—her green eyes, her dimples, the way her cheeks flushed red when she blushed.
“Did I miss her?” Richard’s booming voice echoed around the confines of Will’s office.
“Who?” Will opened his eyes and sat up straight. Pulling forth another glass from the minibar behind him, he poured Richard a drink and slid it across the desk.
Richard’s brow rose. “Only two reasons you’ve ever kept me waiting. Either you were with a woman, or you’re hiding from your mother. And since you’re mother isn’t here…” Grabbing his glass, Richard took a seat in one of the two chairs seated opposite Will’s desk. Taking a small sip, he grimaced. “Cheap bastard,” he muttered. “Where’s the good stuff?”
Will snorted. “This is ninety dollars a bottle, you damn snob. And no, there was no woman.”
“You were alone?” Richard looked confused. “And drinking?”
Will downed the rest of his whiskey and brought the glass down hard on his desk. “You’re right, this does taste cheap.” Standing, he smoothed his hands down the front of his shirt and sighed. “And yeah, I was here alone, and drinking alone.” Grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair, he jerked his chin toward the door. “Let’s go.”
Richard held up one finger and poured the contents of his glass down his throat. Coughing, he shook his head sadly. “Cheap,” he said. “Awful.”
“More awful than being thirty-one years old, a successful business owner, and still having your family treat you like child?”
As Richard joined him in the hallway, he took in Will’s petulant expression and grinned. “Ah, so, I take it mommy dearest called?”
Will made an irritated noise in the back of his throat. “No matter what I do, I can’t get them to see that this is it for me—that this is what I enjoy.” He gestured with his hands toward the walls. “That this is me!”
Richard stayed silent, as was his usual way, simply letting Will vent, and together they exited through the backdoor of the club, Will locking up and setting the alarm while Richard pulled the car forward.
Will climbed in, choosing the passenger seat over the back, buckled his seat belt, and closed his eyes.
“I can’t stop thinking about her, Richard,” he eventually said.
“Who?”
“Mila.”
“The woman from Queens?” Richard asked, chuckling softly.
“Yes, and stop laughing at me.”
Pulling out into street, Richard spared him a quick glance. “I’m guessing she hasn’t called?”
“No,” Will groaned. “She definitely has not called. Not that I blame her. I did leave before she woke up.”
“You left before she woke up and left her your number?” Richard sounded amused. “Now that’s a first.”
“I was confused,” Will protested. “Conflicted!”
“Apparently,” Richard mocked. “But who could blame you? Queens is a confusing place. Thank God she wasn’t from Jersey. Speaking of Jersey, remember that wo—”
“Don’t remind me,” Will interrupted. “What a nightmare.”
“Case in point,” Richard continued. “You have horrible taste in women. Maybe it’s best she hasn’t called…sir.”
Will quirked an eyebrow. “That’s the problem, Jeeves. She’s not like the other women. Not at all.”
Chapter Six
It was a little after eleven when Nikki came to the restaurant. Having just finished her own shift at the hotel she worked for, she plopped herself onto a stool at the far end of the bar and waved me over. Giving her a smile, I continued printing the bill for my last table, eager to finish for the night.
Slipping out from behind the bar, I headed toward the last of my customers: a family of five, the matriarch of which was an obnoxious woman who had complained about slow service, cold food, not enough ice, too much ice—pretty much anything and everything she could possibly think of.
Tucking a stray curl behind my ear, I steeled my expression, hoping that my smile appeared genuine and not at all like I wanted to take the remnants of her apple crisp and dump it in her lap.
“Here you go, ma’am,” I said, handing her the bill.
Outstretching her hand, she snapped the paper from my fingers and scanned it quickly. “I need to speak to the manager,” she spat. “I’m not paying for this—not when service has been so poor. The food, the quality, the service…” She ticked off each item on her fingers and then looked to her husband for confirmation. Like their three children’s, his eyes were glued to a cell phone; he hadn’t even heard her.
“I’ll go get him,” I said, and flashed her another smile.
Turning away, I flashed Nikki a grimace, rolling my eyes as I headed into the back, to the small office where Carlos, the owner, was hunched over the bookkeeping. He glanced up with a smile of relief as I entered, always glad for an interruption when it came to crunching numbers. Carlos was a great boss—easygoing and not overly intrusive of my past. As long as everyone turned up on time and did their job without complaint, he was happy to help us out in any way he could. The small restaurant was family owned and operated, and had been passed down from his grandparents, to his mother and father, and now to him and his wife. And while he loved to cook—and loved to eat even more—he wasn’t so confident in the actual running of the restaurant.
“What is it, Mila?”
“Table five, again,” I said, shrugging apologetically. I’d been in to see him three times through the evening already.
Carlos sighed heavily. “What does she want now?” Pulling off his glasses, he pinched the bridge of his nose. As much as Carlos hated bookkeeping, he disliked confrontations with customers even more.
“She said she’s not paying for her meal.” I shook my head. “There was nothing wrong with her food, Carlos, or the service. She’s just being a pain in the ass.”
“I’m sure she is,” he replied, “But this restaurant is built on reputation alone, and our business depends on word of mouth. I can’t have the family name brought down by one customer. You never know who people are in New York. A senator, a model, a—”
“A bitch?” I suggested, smirking.
“Or a bitch, yes,” he said, grinning. “Go ahead and give her fifty percent off.” He sighed again before slipping his glasses back on.
It was my turn to sigh. Forcing another smile, I headed back out into the dining room, and back to the…bitch. Fifteen minutes and no tip later, I was closing down my section, hurriedly sweeping then refilling the salt and pepper shakers.
I was still sighing, feeling dead on my feet, when I went to cash out and run my receipts.
“Manhattan?” Josephine called out from behind the bar.
Untying my apron and tossing it aside, I slid into the stool beside Nikki and mimed choking the air in front of me. “Yes, please,” I muttered.
“She looked fun,” Nikki quipped. “Don’t you just love that ‘the customer is always right’ bullshit?”
“It has to be better where you work,” I groaned. “How many complaints do you get in one day? It can’t be nearly as many as me.”
Nikki’s mouth fell open. “Are you insane? I work in a hotel, Mila. A hotel. They complain about everything. Every damn thing you could think of.”
“Drink it away, honey,” Josephine said, placing a manhattan on the bar. Turning away, she went
back to wiping down the bar and humming under her breath. Josephine was beautiful, and far too good for this place. Her features were perfect: high cheekbones, rosebud lips, and flawless caramel skin. She worked behind the bar here in the evenings while doing odd modeling jobs during the day. Eventually, she was hoping to make it onto Broadway. But this was New York—everyone was trying to catch a break somewhere, or meet their very own Mr. Right. It was part of the charm of the city, I supposed, but people like Josephine and me weren’t the ‘kill or be killed’ sort. We were too nice for our own good, the sort of women that were chewed up and spat back out. The only difference between us was that I didn’t mind being brushed aside by the sweeping fever that ran constantly hot throughout the streets of the city. Josephine, though, she would care.
While looking down at my drink, my thoughts began to drift back to the weekend, and as they had done for the past few days, they drifted off to Will as well. His lips on mine, and his gifted and dexterous hands working my body into a heated frenzy.
“Seriously?”
Frowning, I glanced over at Nikki. “What?”
“When exactly did you stop listening to me?” Grinning, she shook her head. “Oh my God, you didn’t hear a thing I said, did you?
Laughing, I shook my head. “No, sorry.”
“Mila, Mila, Mila,” Nikki tsked. “You have to stop thinking about him.”
“There’s a him?” Josephine paused in her cleaning to waggle her brows at me.
“Correction,” I said laughing, “there was a him, and now there’s just the memory of a him. It was just one night, no big deal.”
Picking up my drink, I changed the subject, trying to appear like it was what I’d said it was: not a big deal. But the truth was…I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about it. I’d been able to concentrate on very little but Will and our night together. Continuously, he invaded my thoughts, despite every effort I’d made to try and forget him. His hands, his mouth, and his eyes—it wasn’t love at first sight, that would be insane, but he’d flicked a switch on inside of me that I’d never even realized was there before, and now…I wanted more.
I wouldn’t call him—couldn’t call him. The fact that he’d snuck out without waking me made it pretty obvious how he’d felt. The note had been left out of politeness, and I was not going to be that girl.
“No, no, no,” Josephine said, giggling. “You’re not leaving me hangin’, girl. Tell me the whole damn story.”
“Mila hooked up with someone,” Nikki announced gleefully.
“Shut up!” I shouted, slapping at her.
“Mila!” Josephine squealed, jumping up and clapping. “Sweet, shy, little Mila!”
“Don’t you dare,” I hissed, when Nikki opened her mouth to speak. Shushing her, I turned back to Josephine. “I met a guy,” I said. “It’s no big deal. We had a great night. We shared a thing. It’s done now. No biggie.”
“They bumped uglies,” Nikki unhelpfully supplied.
“I hate you,” I groaned. “You’re so vulgar.”
“Mila!” Josephine squealed again. “Get it, girl!”
“I’m sorry,” Nikki shot back, “I’ll try to be less vulgar next time. How about ‘Mila hizzit the skizzins’? Or ‘Mila played hide the sausage’? Oh wait, I know! ‘Mila was doing the jiffy stiffy with the man from doooown under’!”
“Mila went and got herself some stankie on the hang down,” Josephine drawled. “She went ridin’ that flagpole, poundin’ the punanni…”
“Doing the horizontal biblical bop!” Nikki shouted, her shoulders shaking with laugher.
“Oh my God!” I shrieked, nearly choking on my laugher. “Stop! Please, please, stop! We shared one amazing night, and now we’ve gone our separate ways.”
“Oh, for the love of…” Nikki huffed in annoyance. “Stop making it sound like Pretty Woman. It was a one-night stand, Mila, and that’s okay. You don’t need to make it out to be any more or less. No one is going to think any less of you.”
“I still can’t believe you had a one-night stand.” Josephine continued to laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about a man before. And yet here you are all doe-eyed over some guy you picked up at a bar.”
“I did not pick him up,” I said indignantly.
“She’s turning into a real hussy, isn’t she?” Nikki jerked her thumb in my direction and shook her head sadly while Josephine fell into a fit of hysterics.
“What are we laughing about?” Carlos called out. Rounding the bar, he headed for the small beer fridge. Pulling out a bottle of his favorite imported he gave us a questioning glance.
“Mila got laid,” Josephine said, smiling smugly.
Carlos’s mouth fell open, and his eyes went wide. “You met someone?”
“Why is this such big news?” I asked, exasperated. “I’m not Mother Theresa!”
“Because it’s you,” Carlos said. “And you don’t meet men.”
“It has been a long time, Carlos,” Nikki said, “But you know, she is a woman, and she has needs. Things that need to be scratched and such.”
“Please stop, Nikki,” I groaned. “Please, you’re killing me here.”
“It’s okay, we’ve all been there.” Josephine patted my hand gently. “It’s just surprising. I mean, you’re so shy, I didn’t know you could be so…”
“Slutty?” Nikki finished for her, and then laughed as I glared at her. “Oh, stop that. It’s good. It’s nice to see you letting your hair down for a change.”
“You don’t deserve a friend like me,” I huffed.
“You really liked him, huh?”
I shrugged. “I guess.”
That was an understatement if ever there was one. I really, really liked him. I liked how he had looked at me, how he had kissed me and made the world fall away. I liked the feel of his hands on my body, but most of all, I loved how he had made me feel about myself.
“I’m sorry he left without saying goodbye,” Nikki said softly, so only I could hear. “That was a dick move.”
I stared into my drink. “It was a dick move, but he’s a man, and men are dicks, right?” Turning my head, I smiled at Nikki. I didn’t want her to know how I really felt, how much I was actually thinking about him.
“Have you thought about calling him? He left you his number, right?”
“He doesn’t want me to call him.”
“I’m just saying—”
“I’m not calling him. Him leaving made it very clear that it was a one-night thing. I’d rather not embarrass myself.” I softened my voice, realizing I was being harsh. Nikki meant well, but that was part of the problem: she had meant well when she had told me to go for it and to be free for one night. Yet after sleeping with Will—after spending a night feeling relaxed and at ease with him, and after going through a variety of foreign emotions since then—I now felt more trapped than ever. I felt ridiculous, like a teenager with a crush. And feeling like this couldn’t possibly be healthy for me.
Inching her stool closer to mine, Nikki slung her arm around my shoulders. “I’m sorry men suck so much.”
I shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”
“Well, someone has to apologize for their existence.”
I grinned. “Maybe their mothers should?”
“Good luck with that one. But in all seriousness, Mila—you’ve been through so much, you deserve a little happiness. I say go for it.”
My grin slipped away and I glanced off. “I don’t know,” I mumbled.
She was right, I had been through a lot—more than most women my age—and I did deserve some form of happiness. But then, as I turned back to Nikki and thought of our small, chintzy apartment, with its mismatched furniture and cramped bookshelves, I couldn’t hold back my smile. I really was happy, and being happy now despite everything made me appreciate what I had all the more. And while my past was still out there, my future was unhindered and ready for me to take hold of it and make it what I wanted. I just had to
be a little braver, like I had been with Will. After all, it had been a year and a half. Maybe it was time to start…living again.
“Stop worrying about me,” I whispered.
“Never,” she whispered back.
Later that night, as I slipped into bed and turned off my lamp, I lay on my back, staring up at the ceiling, allowing myself to really think about my past for once. To push back against the feelings of fear and foreboding that always came with the memories and simply think about the contrast of my life now compared to then.
Perhaps it wasn’t even Will that I felt so strongly about, but the confident person I had been when I was with him—at least once I’d allowed myself to break the mold I’d built around me. That woman was a stranger to me, and yet there was something about her that felt familiar. Perhaps she was the person I could have become if everything hadn’t happened the way it had.
My hand fell between my legs as I thought about Will’s hands, touching me, making me cry out in pleasure. Nikki was right: I did have needs—needs that I had forgotten about until meeting Will. Needs that, perhaps, I had never really explored before—not really—but now that they’d been ignited, they were flourishing inside of me.
Closing my eyes, I slipped my hand into my underwear, unashamedly thinking of Will as I touched myself. Each stroke of my finger was his, each tremor of pleasure pulled from me was one he was pulling from me. I inhaled the scent of him, still clinging to my pillow, wishing he was there, wishing his lips were on mine, that his body was pressed against me, that my nails were dragging down his muscled back… And as my orgasm gripped me, I imagined he was here, and instead of the darkness, I was staring up into his beautiful blue eyes.
* * *
“Townsend,” Will told the maître d’. “Elise,” he added, scanning the interior of the restaurant.
Shut Up and Kiss Me Page 6