Mick'sology (The Flynn Family Book 2)

by Kayt Miller

  Then there are people who have to shake your hand like twenty times in rapid succession. Those are the nervous ones. You can’t trust them either because they’ve got no balls. No, there’s a fine line between handshakes. You want a firm, dry shake but not too firm with three shakes tops, and then you let go.

  Chris falls into a couple of categories. He’s got a limp shake, it’s moist, and he shakes too many times. So, that means that he’s a pussy who’ll throw you under the bus the first chance he gets. Nope, this guy isn’t good enough for Veronica. No way.

  “Yeah, nice to meet you too,” I say casually.

  When I look at Veronica, she’s beaming at the fucker. He gets her smile, and I seem to get her scowl. I suppose it’s because she doesn’t know me. But one thing is for sure; Chris Smith has suddenly found Roni very interesting. Not surprising. Men are territorial as fuck. If this guy thinks I’m pissing where he sleeps, he’s going to make a play. Even wimpy douche bags like this one have that in their DNA.

  Before I can toy with the little fucker, my bar back approaches, “Um, Mick?”

  “Yeah?”

  “We need you. Three of the kegs blew.”

  “Be right there.” I turn to Roni and say, “Duty calls, babe. Be sure to stop up and see me before you leave, okay?”

  “Sure. And thanks again for the drink, Mick.”

  “No problem.” I wave to her co-workers and head back into battle. I shouldn’t have left my post, but I’m glad I got to see the players in this deal.

  Just as I turn to head back to the bar, I hear Roni, “Oh my God, I love this song. Anyone want to dance?”

  It’s Meghan Trainor’s new song called “Me Too.” They play it constantly, so I’m used to tuning it out like most of the music here, but I can’t help but take notice of Roni’s excited voice. Almost to the bar, I turn to watch her. Holy fuck, the woman can dance. “Jesus,” I say under my breath.

  We get a lot of talented dancers in the club––men and women. When it gets slow, I’ll check out the dance floor, so I know who’s got it and who doesn’t. Roni’s got it. The song is fast-paced, and it’s kind of an anthem for girls or women, I guess. The gist of the song is about feeling self-confident. Watching Roni out on the dance floor I can tell she’s confident. She’s a fucking rock star out there.

  I watch her body move. My eyes slide down from her long blonde locks, down over her amazing tits, to her ass that just won’t quit and further down her long legs. On her feet are some serious fuck-me heels in some animal print. My eyes move back up; her hips in that tight skirt moving back and forth, in and out mesmerize me. I feel my dick get hard. So when my bar back taps me on the shoulder again, I’m annoyed, “Give me a second, damn it.”

  “Sorry, Mick,” he says sheepishly.

  I pull my eyes from her to get back to work when I see someone walk up behind her and grasp her hips. Some douche is trying to press his dick into her back as she moves her ass. She’s oblivious. I start toward the dance floor to push the guy away from her, but that asshole Chris beats me too it.

  Chapter 4: Roni

  “Roni! Let’s dance,” Chris shouts over the loud music.

  I’m already into the song and dancing, so I just nod at Chris. He takes hold of my hand and leads me to a more open spot on the dance floor. I watch as he attempts to dance. I snort out a laugh as I see him do the white-man overbite. Google it. You’ll see what I’m talking about.

  My eyes don’t stay on him for very long because once I hear the chorus again; I’m lost in it. I love to dance. I know I’m the fat girl on the dance floor, but I’m not a terrible dancer. I used to take dance lessons with my sisters when I was little. I quit when I was ten.

  While both my sisters were encouraged to join the traveling dance teams, I was discouraged from dancing at all. I overheard the dance teacher tell my mom that a ‘girl my size should probably stick to the piano.' I wish my mom would have defended me, but she didn't. Dance was very expensive, especially with three girls involved. I think she was relieved there would be one less bill to pay. The sad part is my family always told me I was the best dancer out of the three of us. I guess it’s just the way it goes. I focused on school and my friends. I was okay with that, I guess.

  As I dance to Meghan Trainor’s “Me Too,” I close my eyes and let loose. Chris is in his own little world too. He’s turned and now and he’s dancing with two other women. I don’t care; I don’t. I’m just glad he asked.

  As I move my body, raising my arms to the chorus of the song, I feel hands slide over my hips up to my waist. Next, I feel a warm body move in close to my back. Whoever this is, he can move. His hips mimic mine as we sway back and forth. I reach my arms up to wrap around this guy’s neck. His hands slide up further up my torso until they rest right below my breasts. They pull me into him, so we’re touching from ass to chest. I think that’s far enough, so I finally peer up. I’m shocked. It’s Mick.

  He smiles down at me, and I smile back. I should be embarrassed, but I love to dance. I’m one who believes firmly that we should dance like nobody’s watching. When the song ends, he takes my elbow and leads me back to my group of co-workers.

  “Don’t forget to stop by before you leave, Roni,” Mick says as he makes his way back to the bar.

  “Wow, Roni, you didn’t hold back, did you?” says Trisha Kepler. She’s a marketing assistant in our office. She works for one of the other analysts at P&P Advertising, but we became friendly during department meetings.

  “Yeah, dancin’s in my blood, bitches,” I say with a giggle.

  The three of them laugh at my little self-deprecating joke. I know Trisha’s making a jab at my weight, but I choose to pretend she isn’t. It makes life easier. I also recognized her attempt to get Mick to notice her. I should have encouraged it. She’s pretty and seems to be more his type anyway. But, part of me was a little jealous.

  Trisha is one of those women that are easy to dislike because she’s pretty and tall––a lot taller than my five foot five anyway. She has long dark brown hair, and she’s stick thin. My opinion is she’d be prettier if she had some curves, but if I said that to her, she’d probably implode. I’ve seen what she eats. Her typical lunch consists of tiny snack bags each with a few carrots, celery, and a tablespoon of hummus. I don’t know how she survives, honestly.

  The other woman with us tonight is Barb O’Brien. Everyone calls her Barbie except me. Even though she resembles a Barbie doll with a slim figure, shoulder length blonde hair, and blue eyes, she doesn’t act like one. As an administrative assistant, she’s very professional and very likable. She’s only been in my department for six months but so far so good.

  Barb interrupts my ponderings by saying, “You guys ready to go? I’m beat.”

  We all nod in agreement. I finish the rest of my drink and turn to walk behind the group. As I walk past the bar, I hear my name.

  “Veronica?”

  I turn to see Mick looking at me. People asking for drinks surround him, but he’s ignoring them and looking at me. I smile and wave. He holds up one finger––the one that means wait. I wait because a girl waits for a guy like Mick. He rounds the bar saying something to one of the other bartenders who then rushes to his old spot to take drink orders.

  “You leaving?”

  “Um, yeah. Everyone’s tired after a long week.”

  “I thought you were going to say goodbye before you left?”

  “I did. I waved,” I say with my flirtiest smile. To be honest, my flirty-face sort of resembles a constipated person. I’ve got no game.

  “So, did Chris get a more interested tonight?” he whispers in my ear.

  I think about it, and it’s true. As soon as Mick showed interest, Chris became much more friendly. “Yeah, he was.”

  “Guys are territorial. I was making a play for you. He didn't like it. But, I’ve gotta say, you can move babe. It enjoyed dancing with you. You’re talented,” he winks.

  I choke out a laugh, “Well,
everything I know about dancing I learned playing Just Dance 4 with my nieces. So… yeah.”

  “You got nieces?”

  “Three. You?”

  “Two. They’re both only about four and five months and fucking beautiful.”

  I smile at his obvious love of his nieces. Then, I look over at my group and see their impatience. “Well, I need to get out of here. Thanks for the drink.”

  “Give me your phone,” he asks with his hand out.

  “What? Why?”

  “Give your phone, babe.”

  Sighing, I reach into my purse and pull out my iPhone. I type in my security code and hand it to him. He types away and then hands it back. “My number’s in there, and I called myself, so I have your number.”

  “Why do you need my number?”

  “So I can help you out with the love of your life, Chris. Why else?” He says ‘love of your life’ sarcastically. Either he thinks I’ll never catch Chris’ eye or he thinks love is stupid. Either way, it’s troubling. I look at him and say, “Oh, yeah. I guess that makes sense.” Why else would he want my number? Sometimes I’m seriously pathetic. “Okay, well, see ya, Mick.”

  I feel his hands slide from my waist to my hips. I’m a little shocked––I mean we aren’t on the dance floor. He pulls my hips toward his quickly. I place my hands on his hard chest to brace myself. I feel his pectorals beneath my hands, and they feel perfect.

  He leans down and rubs his lips gently over mine once. Then he moves back and deepens the kiss until I feel my legs almost give out on me. He pulls away slightly then whispers in my year, “That guy’s an idiot, beautiful. I’ll be in touch.”

  I say nothing and turn to my friends. Trisha looks like a fish with her mouth gaping open. Barb is smiling at me, and Chris just looks pissed.

  Chapter 5: Mick

  I watch Veronica leave the bar with her group. My eyes fall from her long ponytail and trail down to her waist and ass. Sure, she’s a bigger girl, but she’s curvy in all the right places. As far as women are concerned, I’ve always had a type; the overly confident slim, leggy blonde with ample tits, type. I guess you could say I’m a breast man.

  Roni certainly has that going for her. She’s got to have double D's at the very least. But, the thing that surprises me about her is how much I like the rest of her. Pulling her against me during that dance felt good. Her ass fits against me like a puzzle piece. Jesus, the woman can dance. I’m still hard from having her against me. Roni’s beautiful, sure, but she’s got a sweetness to her that comes through her green eyes. She’s sincere and a little shy––my total opposite.

  I get back to work after I see my employees look at me pleadingly. Two out of the three behind the bar are relatively new. This is their first busy night, and they’re floundering. I hope they don’t quit on me. That would suck.

  Back in the fray, I lose myself in the job. I love tending bar. It can be exhausting. Plus, dealing with drunken assholes sucks sometimes but there’s nothing like the rush of a large crowd like this one. I don’t even mind the hipsters tonight. I’m not sure why but my mood has improved over the last couple of hours. I’m smiling. I’m actually fucking smiling. Jesus, what’s wrong with me?

  As I sling drinks, I think about Roni. Damn, the girl can dance. It blew my mind when I saw her out there. Chris was hopeless. I don’t think Roni cared. She had her eyes closed––lost in it. She must’ve known the song too. Her lips were moving to the lyrics.

  I could’ve watched her all night, but Bones pulled me from my trance. Before I joined her on the dance floor, Bones slithered up to the bar twirling her hair around her finger attempting that coy look. Fail. She interrupts my current customer when she says, “So… Mike.”

  “Mick.” I correct her.

  “Oh,” she giggles. “Sorry. So… Mick. What are you doing later?”

  Not you, I want to say. “I close tonight. I won’t get out of here until dawn.”

  “Oh, damn. When are you off next?”

  This one isn’t going to give up.

  “Look, I appreciate the attention, but I’m spoken for,” I say turning back to Veronica.

  She laughs, “You’re joking, right? Roni?”

  “What’s wrong with Roni?”

  “Well, nothing’s wrong with Roni. She’s cute. She’s just, you know… fat.”

  “I think she’s beautiful.” I wish that were the end of it, but it’s not.

  “There’s no way a guy like you,” she says as she points at my stomach. “Would date a girl like Roni. You’re just messing with me.”

  I turn back to Bones, “You believe what you want. I don’t give a fuck.” That’s when I head out to dance.

  Why is it so hard to believe? Hell, now I’ve gotten myself entwined in her life. I didn’t mean to insinuate that we’re dating. But, maybe that’s what that Chris guy needs to make Veronica’s dreams come true. I can help her with that. Now, I just need to convince her.

  Before she leaves for the night, I pull her aside. I tell her how much I enjoyed watching her dance. I watched the blush run up her neck to her cheeks. It was adorable. When I told her to give me her phone, she was perplexed. Honestly, if I asked any woman in the bar right now to give me their phone, they’d have it in my hands so fast it’d make your head spin.

  But not Veronica. No. She asks, “What? Why?”

  “Give me your phone, Roni.”

  Sighing, she reaches into her purse and pulls out one of the new iPhones. She taps out the four-digit code so I can access her contacts. I enter my number in there and then call myself.

  I tell her, “I’ll be in touch.” As I lean in to kiss her lips.

  Her friends are watching. Bones has a scowl on her face, probably not uncommon while Chris looks pissed. Roni turns and walks away from me without another word.

  By midnight, Chrome is surprisingly dead. Where’d they all go? I think a lot of them went up to the third level. Chrome is broken up into three different bars. My level, the first floor, is the dance club. The second floor is more of a swanky lounge, and it’s also the location for our V.I.P. rooms that look out over the dance floor. The top and third level is a sports bar. There are huge televisions placed everywhere up there with comfortable seating.

  That level gets packed whenever any Chicago sports team is playing. I know there’s something going on, but it’s not the Cubs. Playoffs don’t start until midweek. “Tony? What’s going on tonight? This place cleared out fast.”

  “Replaying last night’s Cub’s win. It started at ten.”

  “Makes sense.” That means the crowd will filter back down here in a couple of hours. There are times when I’d love to do something else. Times like this, when it’s dead. I need to keep busy. “Tony, I’m going to my office for a little bit. Yell if you need me.”

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  I head to my office. I’m sure I’ve got things to do in there. When I slide down in my seat I look at the pile of invoices on my desk and sigh. I don’t want to do paperwork. I pull my phone out of my back pocket and see a missed call from an unknown number. That’s when I remember I called myself from Roni’s phone. Sweet! Time to send a text.

  Me: Did you get home safely, babe?

  Veronica: Who is this?

  Me: Funny. You know I programmed my name in there for you.

  Veronica: But who’s Michael Flynn, hot bartender extraordinaire?

  Me: That’s me––Veronica McGonigall.

  Veronica: **groan**

  Me: So, are you alone?

  Veronica: Of course, who else would be with me?

  Me: Your one true love.

  Veronica: …

  Me: Hello?

  Veronica: I’m not going to comment.

  I ignore her and continue.

  Me: I’m glad you stopped in tonight. You’ve been on my mind.

  Veronica: I have not. You’re such a playah.

  Me: LOL. Playas gotta play. Seriously, I’ve thought of you from time to tim
e.

  Veronica. Whatever. I had a semi-good time.

  Me: Speaking of semi’s. You looked hot tonight.

  Veronica: You did not just reference your dick did you?

  Me: Maybe. Want me to send you a pic?

  Veronica: No! Pervert.

  Me: LOL. So, why didn’t you have a full-on good time?

  Veronica: **groan again** I don’t know. Trisha is hard to take sometimes. Please don’t reference dick again. I know I said “hard.”

  Me: LMAO. You’re fucking hilarious.

  Veronica: So I’ve been told.

  Me: You are talking about Bones?

  Veronica: Bones?

  Me: Yeah, the scrawny brunette. Is that Trisha?

  Veronica: She’s only scrawny compared to me. You need to see her on her own. She’s gorgeous.

  Me: I did see her on her own. She came up and asked me to hook up with her later. And, she’s just average looking.

  Veronica: Average? LOL.

  Veronica: Wait! She hit on you? What a skank. As far as she’s concerned, you and I are together (even though you were just trying to make Chris get off his ass).

  Me: I know. Chicks are crazy.

  Veronica: This “chick” isn’t crazy. I’m as levelheaded as they come. Oh, God…

  Me: Damn, all of your sexy little innuendos are making me hard. Again.

  Veronica: Seriously, stop. You’re creeping me out.

  Me: LOL. I’ll stop. You’re fun to tease, though.

  Veronica: Good. Now, don’t you have work to do? Cuz, I’m going to bed.

  Me: Oh yeah, what are you wearing?

  Veronica: I’m torn. Should I tell you the truth or lie?