“Good, you must have gotten the message,” Mark yells over the music when he sees me approaching the back bar.
“What are you talking about, old man?” I laugh, sitting down on a bar stool in front of him.
“I need you tonight. Tony called in sick.”
“No way, Man. I don’t want to be working.”
“Please, Greyson; I need the help,” Mark pleads; looking around the back of the bar like he done lost his mind.
“Mark,” I groan. This is not part of my epic night of getting fucked up. My plans include drinking loads of alcohol, finding a chick, knocking one out, and then going home. The night did not include me hopping behind this damn bar and serving people.
“Greyson, please,” Mark begs again.
“Fuck,” I moan, tipping my head back to the ceiling.
“Where in the hell is the salt rim?” Mark babbles, looking around the top of the bar.
“Shit, old man, get back to your office.” I laugh while pushing myself off the barstool and hoping over the bar top. There is no way he would be able to handle the crowd tonight, unless everyone orders bottles and nothing else.
“I owe you,” Mark sighs, patting my shoulder.
“Damn right you do.” Tossing my keys under the ledge, I turn to wash my hands in the sink.
“Thanks for helping tonight, Greyson,” Nate, another bartender at the end of the bar, shouts.
“Yep,” I nod, realizing my dreams of getting wasted have now vanished. Wiping my hands off on a towel, I put on my most sinister smile and help the two hot blondes that are now waiting for me on the other side.
“What can I get you ladies tonight, besides me later?” I ask with a wink, knowing damn well the reaction I would be getting. The two blondes giggle as they look back and forth at each other. If I can’t get smashed, I am bound to get some ass once this place closes.
The bar is packed a little after nine, and I silently curse Mark while filling another shot glass. If he wasn’t basically family, I would not be helping out right now. It is the last weekend before the college starts back up hence all the eager bodies tonight, just begging to get smashed before responsibility sets in.
Like I was two hours earlier.
There is not a huge bar selection in town, so most of the younger crowd always ends up here. I normally won’t complain, since the college brought a new crop for the picking every couple of months. And, it was nice to walk out of this place with a couple hundred bucks at the end of the night, too. My day job covers all the bills and more, but stashing some away never hurt anyone.
I start to mix my fiftieth Sex On The Beach of the night, and someone catches my eye at the end of the bar. My eyes quickly dart over in her direction and I slowly take her in. She is absolutely stunning, but fuck, I doubt if the guys at the door carded her coming in. Quickly, I finish my drinks and slide them over to the ladies waiting, placing the drink order on their tab. Rolling my eyes, I knew what needed to be done. Beautiful or not, she was underage and couldn’t be in here. I refuse for Mark or me to get fined if the state boards try and claim we served her.
I wander down to where she is sitting, watching as she scopes out the crowd on the dance floor. It is a damn shame that I am going to have to be a total dick, but what else am I going to do? Crossing my arms in front of me, I wait for her to turn her attention.
She is totally engrossed with the people grinding on one another out there, oblivious to me standing there, waiting to crush her dreams at getting tipsy in this place tonight. Clearing my voice, she startles and looks directly at me.
“Fuck,” I mumble once our eyes connect.
“Sorry, I must have been spacing,” she says softly. Her voice is so sweet that it is hard to hear over the thumping base coming from the corner of the dance floor. Her eyes are crystal blue, sparkling even in this dark, dingy place. My words are taken back as she continues to meekly smile at me standing there.
Shaking my head, I lower my eyes and direct them at the door. “Do your fucking job, Vance,” I shout, flipping him off with a scowl on my face. Turning back to the pretty little dark-haired beauty on the stool, I prepare myself to flip on dick mode. The question in her eyes is evident, as her face wrinkles in wonder.
“I hate doing this, but all my flags are going up saying you’re not twenty-one.” I sigh, bracing myself on the bar top.
She smirks and starts to dig through her purse. I know the drill. She will continue to dig through that bag for a little while longer, and then exclaim she must have lost it at the door. I release the grip on the bar and rub my eyebrows. I hate doing this shit.
A mischievous look flashes across her face while she slaps her ID down on the bar. Grabbing the card, I quickly bring it up to my face, glancing back and forth at the picture and her sitting on the bar stool.
“No problem, right?” she spoke, still sitting there with a shit eating grin.
I smirk at her little comment and hand her back the ID. Either she has a badass hook up for a fake one, or she really is twenty-one.
“What can I get you, Sweetie?” I ask, licking my lips slowly.
“Is Mark here?”
“Yep, but he is really busy tonight,” I respond, watching her eyes for her reaction.
“Can you just let him know Charlie is here?” She offers me a sweet smile that makes my dick stand at attention. This really can’t be good.
“Charlie you said?” I question, silently cursing at my dick to abandon ship.
“That is what I said,” Charlie laughs, tossing her hair back over her shoulders.
“Isn’t that a man’s name?”
“If that is your way of asking if I have a cock, well, then no. Sorry if you thought you found a butt buddy tonight,” she grins, as an evil tone threads through her words.
“Touché.” I laugh, holding my hands up in surrender. I nod my head and duck around the bar for Mark’s office. Knocking quickly on the molding, I wait for him to look up from his computer.
“There is a Charlie here to see you,” I comment, giving him a puzzled look.
“Oh,” he responds, hopping up from his desk and hurrying out the door.
My curiosity peaks as I can’t seem to figure out why a beautiful girl like that would be looking for Mark. Not that Mark couldn’t get himself some young pussy, but she just doesn’t strike me as the type of girl who digs older men. I watch as her eyes light up when Mark comes around the corner. Obviously I am wrong, and that lucky bastard just scored big.
Shaking my head, I wander back behind the bar and start filling the never ending orders.
“What time are you off tonight, Greyson?” a red head asks suggestively. I give her a quick glance over, and normally would take her up on the offer she is implying. But, then I hear that damn little dark hair stunner down the bar laugh, and my dick no longer wants to come out and play with the redhead sporting fake tits. Fuck.
“Hey Greyson, will you get Charlie a water here?” Mark calls down to me.
I smile and swiftly grab a glass and fill it. Walking it down to the end of the bar, I slide it in front of Charlie and force myself to stay silent.
“Greyson, I would like to introduce you to my niece, Charlie. Charlie, this is Greyson. He helps out behind the bar sometimes when I need it,” Mark announces, beaming like a fricken idiot.
“We met, Uncle Mark. Greyson carded me then insinuated that I have a penis,” she says simply, showing no emotion on her face what-so-ever.
My eyes grow wide as my brain sputters to figure out what I could possibly say to explain the situation. Suddenly, laughter tears through the both of them, and Charlie lets a smile crack across her face.
“Nice,” I chuckle, knowing damn well this woman got the better of me.
“I’m just kidding.” Charlie grins, bringing the water up to her lips.
“I’m going to get back to work,” I add, tipping my head back to the line of customers waiting for drinks.
Mark shoos me away with h
is hand and leans back on the bar to talk with Charlie. I can’t help but look over my shoulder at her, and catch her looking at me. Smirking, I lean back against the bar and take the next order.
“Well hello ladies,” I snicker, taking full advantage of their tits they have on display tonight.
I kept stealing glances down at Charlie and Mark for the next hour or so. There is something completely different about that girl, something that I can’t quite place my finger on yet. She is not like the rest of the women that prance around this place. Her pale skin and deep dark hair with blue eyes is a striking contrast to the sea of blonde invading the bar tonight. Her simple long sleeve white shirt and jeans are also something abnormal, considering most of the women in here have at least seventy percent of their skin showing. I get at least three sets of tits and a pussy or two flashed in my direction the nights I work behind the bar, and Charlie was completely covered. Strange girl.
I look back down at the bar once the crowd has drastically thinned out, and am surprised she isn’t there. Scanning around the now half empty bar, I look for her quickly, and realize she isn’t here.
“Go ahead and check out, Greyson. Thanks for the help.” Mark’s head pops around the bar corner, giving me a smile.
Tossing a towel underneath the bar, I nod my head and give a two finger salute to Nate. Grabbing my keys, I head down the hallway to my truck. Tonight’s epic mission at getting drunk and having sex is a complete bust. I only took two shots and my dick decided to be a Sally after meeting Charlie.
Storming out the back door, I sulk over to my truck and yank the door open. “Fucking stupid night,” I grumble while firing it up. The radio comes on, blasting some sappy ass love song, and I reach over to smash the damn thing until it turns off. There will be none of that tonight.
Chapter 3
Charlie
I had no intentions of swinging by my uncle’s bar tonight, but the house was way too quiet for my liking. I really should be used to the silence, since most of my life I have spent alone. But being in a new city, new house, and unsure of even myself, left me craving human companionship. I was desperate for a friendly face, and a conversation with a stranger was better than nothing.
After handing my license to the guy at the door, I let a soft smile creep across my face. This is just your run of the mill small town bar. The younger crowd has packed this place to the gills, making the heat in the room almost unbearable for anyone wearing more than a scrap of clothing. Pushing my way to the back of the space, I spot a large bar off to the right and squeeze myself through the drunken people. Grabbing a stool, I hoist myself up and glance down the bar at the two men serving. Both of them look busy, so my attention is immediately drawn to the dance floor. Massive amounts of bodies smash together, grinding, groping, sweating all over one another. It is fascinating to watch, considering I would not be caught dead out there. Smirking at the irony of a recovering alcoholic sitting in a bar willingly, I let the sexually driven crowd entertain the small part of me that is begging for a sip of beer.
A voice clears from behind the bar. Realizing I have been lost in la-la land, I turn to the sound and gaze into a set of deep green eyes. I watch as the man yells something over my head and proceeds to flip the person off, then settles his eyes back on me. As cliché as it might be, I am a firm believer that the eyes tell a person’s story in a single glance. Pain is something that can be easily hidden on the outside, but one glance into a person’s eyes can spill the secrets that are kept buried deep down inside. This man’s eyes speak volumes in the sheer seconds we share taking each other in. The light gold flecks that mingle in the green iris almost take my breath away, leaving me to question and wonder about this man’s story.
“I hate doing this, but all my flags are going up saying you’re not twenty-one,” he says. The scowl on his face tells me one thing, but those eyes refuse to cloud over in judgment.
Laughing to myself, I grab my purse and dig through the monster to find my ID. I cannot blame this man for doubting my age, considering I look like I should still be in high school. Unfortunately, I never surpassed five feet in my teen years; and my dark hair, pale skin, and bright blue eyes only add to my younger looking appearance. I have only been in a bar once since I turned twenty-one, and I still get carded for R-rated movies. My mother claimed it was a blessing, and that I would love it when I was older. Not that it really bothers me now, but for once I would like to appear my actual age.
Slapping my ID down on the cold steel bar top, I let a grin spread across my face. I love watching the reaction of people when they realize I’m not trying to pull a fast one on them. The guy takes a couple of seconds to look back and forth between the picture and me, shaking his head slowly in doubt. Eventually he hands it back to me and asks what I want. If I hadn’t spent the last year trying to be sober I would order a scotch, neat. But sadly, those days are over.
“Is Mark here?” I ask loudly, hoping he can hear me over the thumping music selection.
“Yep, but he is really busy tonight,” he responds, leaning closer over the bar.
“Can you just let him know Charlie is here?” I really don’t want to spend my time sitting on this barstool waiting for my uncle to come strolling out of the back.
“Charlie you said?” he affirms, giving me a questioning look.
“That is what I said.” I nod my head.
“Isn’t that a man’s name?”
“If that is your way of asking if I have a cock, well, then no. Sorry if you thought you found a butt buddy tonight,” I spew, knowing damn well I should get a good reaction from him.
“Touché,” he laughs, holding his hands up in surrender.
I might be all sorts of screwed up inside, but I can still fire one back at you without even batting my eyes. Take that, I think to myself, letting a smug smile appear on my face. Nothing irritates me more than a male who thinks highly of himself. I get that he has a job to do, making sure I am twenty-one and all, but please. I bet he drives a big truck to contain the even larger ego he pulls around. One more male in this world who makes me want to become a lesbian.
“Charlie girl,” my uncle exclaims, holding his arms out for a big hug.
I have never been a hugger. Something about being that close to another soul, having your bodies all smashed together, getting into one another’s personal space, just really skeeves me out. My mom was always a touchy feely kind of woman, and I hated it. She would constantly offer a gentle embrace, a soft pat on the back, or even a kiss to the cheek. I always growled and turned away during those moments, and looking back, I wish I hadn’t.
“Hi Uncle Mark,” I say with a smile as he pulls me into his embrace. Clenching my teeth, I hold my breath during his assault on my space.
“How was the drive up? I thought you would be resting at the house,” he questions, pulling me out of the death hug, still gripping either side of my shoulders.
“It was fine; nothing exciting.” I shrug.
“Well, I am so glad that you are here with me, sweet girl,” Mark beams, looking like he is going to bring me into his arms again.
Shudders roll down my body just thinking of another embrace. Not exactly what I want to deal with tonight. Leaning back on the barstool, I break the contact and start to swivel nervously on the stool.
“Want a beer?”
“I don’t drink anymore,” I respond quietly. Looking around the bar, everyone looks like they are having the time of their lives. I can’t be the only sober person in this place; there has to be some designated drivers floating around here.
“Sorry Charlie, I completely forgot,” Uncle Mark apologizes, giving me a pat on the back.
There he goes again with that whole touching thing, I think, forcing a tight smile across my face. It is not like my fail in sobriety was kept secret from my family. My mom and Uncle Mark were twins, and everything was shared between those two. Even miles apart, they still knew each other’s business; kind of scary actually. I stole
a glance down at the bar at the man who helped me earlier. Two big boobed bimbos were leaning on the bar, giving him the perfect view of their knockers. Glancing back down at my chest, I scowl as I stare at my own pair. Why can’t you two be perky and fantastic like their’s?
“Hey Greyson, will you get Charlie a water here?” Uncle Mark shouts down the bar.
So creepo has a name; Greyson
Greyson grabs a glass and fills it quickly, placing it directly in front of me, smirking. Why in the world is this man laughing now?
“Greyson, I would like to introduce you to my niece, Charlie. Charlie, this is Greyson. He helps out behind the bar sometimes when I need it,” Uncle Mark blurts out while trying to keep a suspicious smile off his face.
“We met, Uncle Mark. Greyson carded me then insinuated that I have a penis,” I exclaim, keeping my face completely neutral to the situation.
Greyson started to squirm and I know I have him right where I want him, trapped in an awkward situation. Smug little bastard, I bet he thinks he is something special here. I watch as his eyes start to dart back and forth between my uncle and I; even a slight blush starts to spread across his tanned face. Apparently, his poker face sucks, since he can’t seem to figure out what words to say after my little comment.
I just can’t keep it in any longer and burst into laughter. Uncle Mark takes a quick glance over at me and joins in, shaking his head at the poor boy standing behind the bar.
“Nice,” he chuckles, silently bowing to my victory.
“I’m just kidding.” I grin, grabbing my water and sipping the cold liquid.
“I’m going to get back to work,” he mentions, motioning over to the customers waiting a few feet down at the well. I can’t help but smirk as he walks away. I doubt that happens very often to that man; someone leaving him completely speechless and embarrassed. I might not be good at much, but I can put someone in their place pretty quickly. Score one for the only sober chick in this bar.
Bar 49 Page 2