“Vodka would be better. If that’s okay, that is. I know everyone else is drinking champagne, but I’d rather not. I could pay if it isn’t on the party plan.”
She reached for her purse, but I shook my head. “You can get anything you want. Vodka is what you want, so vodka it is. I’ll add a little something extra to help you…achieve your desired goal,” I said.
“Well, you just might be my new favorite person,” she said, smiling and sliding into the chair in front of me.
I was used to sizing guests up and coming up with the right drink to make them happy. Of course, my job wasn’t just about making them happy, but about making them want more. I made a vodka martini for her, with a bit of triple sec and a splash of orange juice. It would go down sweet and smooth but pack the right amount of punch that she wanted.
She took a sip, and I saw her shoulders instantly relax. When she took a larger sip, she gave me a thumbs-up, nodding her head. “Ahh,” she said. “Perfect.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
I moved on to helping other guests, stopping to check in with the only person who was sitting at the bar instead of mingling at the tables and couches, the vodka-drinking lady.
“You’re going to make the job you assigned me much easier if you keep drinking like that. Another?” I asked, retrieving the empty martini glass from her.
She rolled her eyes. “Please. Maybe I can fake a headache and head to my hotel room across the street instead. Flying back to New York tomorrow with a hangover sounds awful.”
“I think you’re right about that,” I said, starting her second drink. “What’s your name?”
“Abby,” she said, holding out her hand.
I shook her hand. “Abel.”
“Abby and Abel. That sounds nice together, doesn’t it?” she said, running her fingers across her necklace.
I started shaking her cocktail. “For twins, for sure.”
She leaned her body in, her breasts touching the top of the bar. “Twins weren’t exactly what I had in mind,” she said.
And here we go. She was starting to flirt. I knew the routine, and while I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t nice that an attractive woman was coming on to me, there were rules. The rules of WET were very strict. No dating guests. It was a rule I followed almost always. Almost.
“Do you have a girlfriend, Abel?” she asked.
“Nope,” I said, pouring a drink into a clean glass and running a thinly sliced orange slice along the rim.
Technically, I didn’t have a girlfriend. I wasn’t sure what Evelyn and I were yet. It was too early to even establish that, and even if I was thinking about it, there was no way I’d bring it up first.
Plus, I didn’t like people knowing my business so there was never any mention of a girlfriend. My job was to make drinks and hear their stories. The more they knew about me, the less they talked about themselves.
She lifted her glass and winked at me. “Thank you.”
I nodded and slipped away to help another guest. I busied myself, making drinks and conversation, to keep my mind off the one thing I wanted to think about: Evelyn. It was quickly becoming my favorite pastime, imagining what she was doing or if she was thinking of me, too. There were moments of feeling completely emasculated, letting a girl I barely knew occupy so much of thoughts, but those moments were mine alone. No one knew I was falling hard for this girl. No one could know because anyone would think it was insane for it all happening so fast. I know I would. In a way, I thought it was. It wasn’t enough, though, to tell my heart that it was all unworthy.
I motioned to Marshall, pointing my finger toward the bathroom, that I needed to take a quick leak. Abby grabbed my arm as I tried to walk by.
“What time do you get out of here?” Abby asked.
Her long, red fingernails spun a plastic hotel card on top of the bar. I took in a deep breath because I knew how I’d usually respond. I would usually say, “It’ll only be this one time.” But something was different now. Something had changed.
“Late,” I said. “Not until after two.”
She stopped twirling the hotel card and pushed it toward me. “It’s lucky for you, or really, the both of us, I’m a night owl.”
A few weeks ago and this would’ve been a no-brainer. I was trying to choose my words carefully, walking the line between offending her and encouraging her. Regardless, she was going to be pissed in the end when I turned her down.
“What do you say?” she asked.
I glanced across the room and saw Bridget, holding a Starbucks cup and bag, talking to Tyler. It was a little strange since the private event was still going on, but considering she was one of our most important VIPs, I didn’t think too much about it. I gave her a wave before she nodded and started walking over.
“Give me one second, okay?” I said to Abby before shifting over to meet Bridget.
“Hey there,” Bridget said, setting the Starbucks down on the bar. “I’m here on official business.”
“Yeah? I hope that business is having a drink. The usual?”
“No cocktail for me tonight.”
Confused, I asked, “A little something for your coffee? Wait. Coffee at this hour?” I looked at my watch, and it was almost nine. “Burning the midnight oil like Evelyn?”
“The coffee is for you,” she said, pushing it across the bar.
“What? Why?”
“Turn the cup around,” she said.
I picked it up and spun it to see the writing on the side. In black marker, it read: “Back at you, handsome.” Followed by a red-stained lipstick kiss next to it.
“Why didn’t she stop by? Tyler’s seen her with you, so it wouldn’t have been an issue,” I said.
“She’s still working, and I was on my way out anyway. She took a little break and came back to the office with this for me to bring you.” Her head turned, sensing the stares from Abby who was clearly eavesdropping.
“There’s a brownie, too,” she continued. “She also told me to tell you that it’s no babka, but it was the best she could do. Whatever the hell that means.”
I smiled, thinking of her thinking of me, and it made my chest ache. It was fear and exhilaration wrapped up in one bold decision.
I took a sip of the coffee, a caramel latte, which she had no way of knowing was my favorite from there when I wasn’t drinking it black. The heat from the coffee warmed my chest every bit as much as the gesture. Without another thought, I jumped off the bridge, without a thought of offending anyone.
“Be right back,” I said to Bridget.
I stepped back over to Abby, who was downing the rest of her drink and looking annoyed. Her eyebrows raised at me, looking for an answer to her question.
“Sorry,” I said, pushing her hotel card back toward her. “I have a girl, and I kind of like her a lot.”
Chapter Nine
EVELYN—
What the hell is wrong with you?” Bridget snapped at me.
I was dancing in my chair and daydreaming to Beyoncé when Bridget walked into the office. Thinking no one was watching, I was in full-on dance party mode.
“Nothing,” I said.
I turned the music off my phone and pulled my chair back under my desk. The smile I was sporting couldn’t be contained, though.
She dropped her white Birkin bag on my desk and put her hands on her hips. “If this is how you’re going to be every morning from now on, then I might need to fire you.”
“Why do you have to do that to the Pretty?” I asked, gently lifting her Birkin and petting it. “You just throw her around like she’s a knockoff you found in the bargain bin.”
“Can you not fondle my bag, please? It’s creepy and weird.”
She knew I lusted after this bag, a bag that at over $10,000 I’d never be able to afford, but I couldn’t help it. It was gorgeous.
“So, are you going to answer your boss and tell me why you’re in such a good mood?” she asked.
“For
real, nothing. Fridays are late morning starts and I was able to get a run in. The sun is out, so I just felt…peppy.”
“Peppy?” She twisted her upper lip. “I call bullshit. I think this has ‘hunky bartender’ written all over it.”
My stomach tingled and I smiled again. “Perhaps. What did he say when you dropped off his drink last night?”
“I think he liked it.”
“You think?”
“The place was packed so I’m sure he appreciated it.”
She was skirting around the topic, which just wasn’t her. There was something she wasn’t telling me.
I set her bag back down on my desk. “What?” I asked. “Did something happen?”
“No, but—” she said, avoiding contact with my eyes. “Can I give you some friendly advice, sweetie?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t put all your eggs in one basket, okay?”
So, something did happen. It didn’t take me long to figure out what she was getting at.
“Someone else there bringing him coffee?” I asked.
“No. But just someone he seemed overly friendly with.”
“We aren’t exclusive and he’s free to do whatever he wants,” I said. I mustered up as much confidence as I could when I said this, but the excitement I’d had only minutes before had deflated. It really was no one’s fault, especially Abel’s, except for mine. It was too much, too soon. A dangerous combination. I should’ve known better.
“Don’t look like that,” Bridget said. “It was probably nothing. You know what a flirt he is, but just in case, I want you to be careful.”
Per usual, Bridget was a wise woman.
* * *
Abel: Be there in five. Can’t wait to see you.
I closed out my messages and tossed my phone in my purse. Anxiety swirled around my body as I looked in the mirror, checking out my tight black dress with a low back, from all sides. I wasn’t sure if it was nerves or…I didn’t know what it was.
Yes, I did. It was mix of anger and annoyance. It was strange emotions to have because I usually wasn’t insecure about men. I didn’t have to be. It wasn’t a self-confidence thing. It was a self-preservation thing.
I considered canceling our date, but that would’ve been petty. I was being petty, and that only fueled my annoyance. Two dates and I thought we had something going. I wasn’t out with other guys or flirting at a bar. I was so into him, and now I wasn’t sure I wanted to be. As I smoothed red lipstick over my lips, it occurred to me exactly what was bothering me.
I wanted him to act, to do, what I was doing. I expected him to know how I felt and to feel the same way. It wasn’t him I was angry at. It was myself.
All these years of being focused on me and I was letting someone else in. It was then that an entirely new emotion surfaced—fear. I was heading into new territory, allowing my heart to be open to Abel. It scared me because I’d known what giving so much of myself to a man did to me. When I allowed Patrick to take over my heart, I lost myself. Once realized, I knew never to make that mistake again. So far, I hadn’t. All was good as long as I didn’t lose my head.
The door buzzed, and I knew it was time. After slipping my shoes on, I raced from my room, the clicking of my black high heels echoing against the hardwood floors, as my neighbors blasted their Frank Sinatra dinner music.
“Don’t lose your head, Evelyn,” I said to myself before opening the door.
“Hi there, beautiful,” he said, all smiles and dimples.
He came in for a hug, bending his head into my neck where he sighed against my skin. My body went into sensory overload. Everything about him was familiar already. Everything from the woodsy smell of his cologne to the way his beard tickled against my cheek. My fingers swept over the fabric of the back of his sports coat, noticing the strength of him even through layers.
Taking a step back, he bent to kiss me chastely on the lips before taking my hands in his. “You look…” He trailed off, eyes running up and down my body.
“Thanks. We ready? Or do you want to have a drink here first?”
“Hot. You look…superhot,” he said.
Smooth as a motherfucker this guy was. No wonder he probably made every girl he met eat out of the palm of his hand. Teaching may be his calling, but he should quit the bartending job and take up what he’d be really good at. Panty dropping.
“No. I made reservations at RM Champagne. We should probably get going.”
“Wow,” I said, reaching for my purse off the bench next to the door. “Bringing out the big guns.”
He smiled, deep dimpled, and smoothed his hand over his beard. “You have no idea just how big of the guns I’m bringing.”
Butterflies, or maybe something that resembled a rhino, spun its way across my chest and stomach. I felt dreamy, almost calm, so that it took a lot of strength to remind myself of the one promise I’d made. Just don’t lose your head, Evelyn.
“Come on, beautiful.”
He was going to make this as hard on me as possible.
* * *
“Have you been here?” He opened the car door for me.
“No way.”
When a place was praised as one of the most romantic spots in Chicago, and you’ve dated guys that lacked in the romance department in general, RM Champagne wasn’t a likely place.
His hand slipped into mine as we stepped onto the sidewalk. “Why did you say it like that?” He looked down at me. “You know what? I don’t care. I’m glad you’re here now.”
With the height of my heels, I was taller than usual, making me that much closer to him. His face, his mouth…those lips weren’t all that far away when he leaned down. He stopped and smiled, dimples deep and adorable.
“You keep looking at me like that, and we won’t make it inside,” he said.
A cool breeze blew my hair into my face, which he brushed away before I could. His hand lingered, brushing the tips of his fingers across my cheek.
“I wasn’t looking like anything,” I said, pulling his hand from me.
I was doing my best to be present, but looking at him, his touch, were constant reminders of what Bridget had told me.
He appeared confused, looking around to see if someone or something had distracted me. When he saw nothing, he shrugged and we returned to walking.
We were about to cross into the next block when he pulled me by the hand down a dark alley. “Wait. Are you taking a shortcut?” I asked.
“Nope,” he laughed.
The darkness of the alley gave way to twinkling lights and hanging lanterns draped across the buildings. Our pathway lined with cobblestones narrowed as we approached an outdoor seating area that hadn’t been opened yet for the warm months.
“You know all the hidden spots, don’t you?” I asked.
“Aside from the speakeasy and this, I don’t have much more up my sleeve. However, I would like to take you back here in the summer to sit outside.”
“Pretty confident we’ll still be seeing each other in the summer, huh?”
As soon as I said it, I regretted it. It wasn’t so much what I said, but how I said it with my usual sarcasm taking a backseat to abrasiveness.
“I was hoping so.”
His grip on my hand became weak, and he physically distanced himself from me. Whatever I was putting off, which I was sure was every form of bitchy, he was getting it. All of this was going wrong. I was being all wrong.
“I’m glad you took me here now,” I said. I stopped him before stepping through the door of the restaurant. “Thank you.”
His head tilted while a grin reappeared. “Everything cool?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Just…yeah.”
“You kinda don’t seem into this tonight, so if you’d rather not, it’s—”
“No. No, I’m fine. I’m sorry. It’s just…can I be honest with you?”
“I like honest.”
I took in a deep breath. “Look, I like you. I like spending time with you, a
nd you owe me absolutely nothing. So, if you’re seeing other people, I’d like you to be up-front about it.”
He shook his head. “Wait. What?”
“You’re not my boyfriend, and I’m not your girlfriend. So, I don’t want any expectations between us. I mean, we like hanging out and I’d like that to continue.”
“Wellllll,” he said. “I don’t have any expectations, either, and I like you, too.”
“Good. Same page. Now let’s go in.”
I wasn’t sure if he knew where I was going, but at least I’d said it.
The moment we walked into RM Champagne, I was speechless. It was stunning, let alone romantic. Intimate tables of couples and small groups of friends sat surrounded by candelabras lit by candles and a large fireplace. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, giving the rustic decor a soft glow.
He waited until I was seated to take his seat, a gesture of a real gentleman that is so seldom seen. I leaned across the table. “This is beautiful.”
“I’m glad I’m the first one to show you it.”
We decided on wine instead of cocktails, and he ordered oysters, which he assured me were spectacular and not innuendo. As we talked, I tried not to imagine him with another girl or many other girls. My legs bounced under the table as I tried to control my thoughts.
He scooted his chair back and leaned over to the floor. I assumed he had dropped something, but when his head popped back up, I knew it was the thumping of my heel on the floor he was looking at.
“I was wondering what that noise was,” he said, pulling his chair back in. “Although I don’t mind getting a closer view of your legs in the process, too.”
“Sorry,” I said.
“You nervous about something?”
“Bridget saw some girl give you her hotel card last night,” I blurted out.
He chuckled, throwing his head back with a flair. “I knew you were being weird about something. Bridget has a big mouth.”
“She’s looking out for me. That’s why I said what I did about expectations and shit. If you are sleeping with other women, I’m totally fine with that, but I’m not going to be one of them.”
“Totally fine with that, huh?” He smirked, boldly displaying those deep dimples, which I was certain he knew was my Kryptonite at this point.
So Screwed Page 9