by Ciara Knight
“Whatcha got?”
He glanced my way, tugging the floral-print shirt away from his chest and mopping his brow with a napkin.
“I can help, or you can keep beating that machine until you’ve got nothing to work with.”
His face angled to the side, reminding me of an old Hawaiian doll I’d once had at a foster house. “One Long Island Tea, two rum and Cokes, a beer, and a cheeseburger with fries.”
I saw the two twenties in the customer’s hand. “Food tax seven percent?”
“Yeah.” He swiped his brow again.”
“$34.63. Your change is $5.37.”
“Who are you?” the bartender asked. A red light flashed over his dark skin, illuminating his Hawaiian shirt.
I averted my gaze to make change once more. “The new bartender.”
“Awesome!” The overweight man, who looked like he belonged in a Polynesian luau more than a pop-punk and heavy-metal club, winked at me. “You starting already? Boss said he hadn’t even interviewed anyone yet.”
“It’s all good. I’m ready to work.”
A dozen more patrons shouted orders across the bar. The other bartender poured and served while I made quick change. I spotted a plug behind the bar. Score! I slipped my iPod from my pocket. Liquor and grunge covered the outlet, so I snagged a rag and wiped down the plastic front and counter.
“You shouldn’t even try that, Einstein. You’ll be lucky if you don’t electrocute yourself.” He chuckled, but his boisterous laugh didn’t compete with the band warming up onstage.
Einstein? I longed for the music to start. I welcomed the distraction from my sticky hands. Perhaps I could buy some Wet-Naps before my next shift. “Einstein?”
“Yeah, it fits you and your mad math.” He flipped a bottle over and poured whiskey then sprayed soda into the plastic cup.
“Okay, Hawaiian.”
His laugh was cut off when a hand slammed onto the top of the bar.
“I’ll be right with you.” I made quick change and handed it to Hawaiian.
“Hey, Einstein. You sure the boss hired you?” He kept his gaze on me while handing the drink over to the customer.
“Just give me the money and I’ll make change. Let me worry about wowing the boss. I got this.” I reached over Hawaiian and snagged a few ones from his drawer before slipping the twenty inside.
He clicked his heels and saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”
A hand with a fancy class ring thumped against the bar. I followed the fingers up the arm then higher before the band strummed another few off-key notes. It was his face. The one from the restaurant.
“Oh, great. Is Boobs-On-A-Stick here to have me fired again?” I cupped my hands in front of my mini-breasts. Not the size triple F’s he obviously preferred. “Listen, keep her away. Unlike the last job, I happen to like this one.”
“You do?” His head quirked to the side, causing a chunk of dark hair to fall over his brow. The tip rested on a sexy scar, a sexy bad-boy scar. Heat shot to my groin and I leaned against the bar to relieve it. Darn hormones were always my kryptonite.
He offered his hand. “Name’s Drake Markham.”
I nodded but didn’t reciprocate.
“So, you work here now?” Drake asked.
“Yes.” I spotted the band signaling the sound tech that they’d finished warming up and knew the music would end this conversation soon.
Hawaiian tossed an empty bottle over his shoulder into the trash. “She’s awesome. Can make change in her head and shit. Einstein here has crazy math skills. Awesome when the machine don’t work.”
“That’s high praise.” Drake pushed from the mahogany bar top, his biceps straining against his thin T-shirt.
Ugh, no. I traced the X on the back of my wrist, reminding me of my promise to remain straight. No promiscuous sex.
“Well, let’s see what you’ve got.” His gaze penetrated me like he’d just stripped and threw me up on the bar to have his way with me.
I swallowed the slut comment that would land me in the back room, strung out, and unemployed. “Okay. Whatcha want?” I asked.
Drake rubbed his stubble-coated jaw, the kind that screamed strength, sensuality, and sex. “Surprise me.”
That all too familiar Dr. Hyde part of me took hold. “Sure.” I began mixing every fruity concoction together while remembering what flavors mixed well and which tasted like shit. I dropped a few cherries and orange slices into the drink and handed it to him.
He eyed the concoction in the clear plastic cup. “And what’s this?”
“BBBW.”
Resting his elbows on the bar, he tapped his class ring against the surface three times.
I strummed my fingers against my jeans. “Stands for Big-Boobed Bitch Whipped.”
Drake roared with laughter, cut short by the hard banging drum sounding off the start of the band’s first song. “Not whipped anymore. I’m done with Margo and any woman who only cares about money.”
I scanned the bar for the next customer, but they’d all turned to watch the show.
“I like you,” Drake shouted over the bass guitarist.
I couldn’t think of a snarky comeback with the thu-thump, thu-thump pounding in my ears. A thought formed. I opened my mouth, but he slid from the stool and walked away. Not just any kind of walk—a hip-swaying, firm-ass, I-know-how-to-move-more-places-than-the-dance-floor kind of walk.
I closed my eyes to calm my overactive hormones and shut my mouth that was still hanging open, trying to form words. After being celibate for a year and running into such eye candy, this was going to be tough. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be around much. Otherwise, my promise to my Straight Edge family would come to a quick demise. I knew where the slope of promiscuity led from experience. A quick one-night stand worked better for me than love and relationships. But I wouldn’t survive that path again. This time I’d be lost forever.
Chapter Four
Cymbals crashed from the band’s last song, accentuating my pounding headache. With no beat or organization to the song, it grated on my last frayed nerves.
Shwalack.
Hawaiian tossed a rag at me, the damp sludge smacking into my chest. I removed it and wiped down the bar, but it left behind a sour odor. Ugh, I’d have to go to the laundromat. This definitely wasn’t going to come out with dripping pipe water that smelled of sulfur. “Hey, Hawaiian. What was the owner thinking with that last band?”
He scanned the empty dance floor and shrugged before I spotted Drake strutting into the room.
With a huff, I ignored him and his swaying hips. I wiped down the sticky, liquored bar. “Seriously? Is the owner trying to lose his business?”
Drake slid onto the bar seat with a wicked grin. “Why do you say that?”
I fixed my attention on his dark eyebrows, the safe zone, where it looked like I was making eye contact without actually having to do so. Unfortunately, the way his eyebrows danced the tango, I imagined him dipping me back with a flower between my teeth.
Abstinence sucked.
“It doesn’t matter.” I rubbed the rag over the bar top and crinkled my nose to stop the intrusion of stale beer and sour dishtowel. Okay, so the job wasn’t ideal, but it was better than most.
“Tell me. I’m fascinated. I went to marketing school, so I’d love to know what you think. I mean, you’re right. The owner doesn’t seem to have a clue.” He cupped his hand to the side of his mouth as if to whisper a secret. His full lips moved to say more, and I was lost to their alluring motion. “You can tell me.”
I shrugged and squatted to clean a few crushed plastic cups off the dingy, stained floor. When I stood, he was in my space. In front of me, towering above me, breathing my air. His aroma teased. It wasn’t some cheap cologne that usually made me gag, but an earthy, manly scent that screamed he’d be amazing. “I-I…”
He cupped my elbow and pulled me closer. “Come on, out with it. What does the wise new bartender have to say?”
I straight
ened, refusing to retreat from his advance. Refused to retreat from his warm, soft touch on my elbow, his warm breath on my cheek, his closeness. “The first two bands could hold a tune, but the third one tanked by their second song. And the last band. The last band sucked. It’s as if last week three old geezers got together in a garage after coding at their day jobs and decided to form a band. Two practices later, they played here.”
The front door slammed. “I’ll meet you outside in a bit,” the bouncer called to someone in the hallway on the other side of the large space.
I lowered my voice. “Not to mention the bartender across the floor drinking more shots than he served, the ticket man abandoning his post for a booty call, and the bouncer exchanging free admittance for drugs. If you own a business, don’t you stick around to manage it?”
His gaze traveled the length of me with that familiar, hungry, testosterone-filled expression men perfected. It only flashed. By the time his tongue finished swiping his lips he regained his controlled composure. He pushed his shoulders back but put his flirtatious dimples into play. “You don’t think too highly of the owner, do you?”
Hawaiian tossed another bottle into the trash with a loud clank.
I jumped then scowled. “Listen, you asked. I told you. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got work to do.” I maneuvered around him and kicked several cups into a pile.
“That’s right, you’re the new bartender,” Drake said more to Hawaiian than to me.
“She’s the best we got.” Hawaiian’s words blurred by at breakneck speed with that welcome-home voice. The man made a great partner. He didn’t smell bad or make weird noises or touch me.
Drake pivoted to face Hawaiian. “Is she now? Did you hire her? I didn’t know you had the authority?”
Authority? As in boss?
Oh my God! I’m such a frickin’ idiot. I paused halfway to the floor to pick up the litter. My breath squished into a tight ball and lodged in my gut.
Drake hopped off the stool and crowded me. “Ah, Sunshine. Caught on, I see.”
I stood. “Listen, man. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean no disrespect.”
“None taken. I prefer honesty.” He slid his hands into his front pockets and propped his elbows on the bar behind him, crossing one leg in front of the other and resting his toe on the floor. Did he mean to pose like a demon ready to take my soul through sex appeal?
I shook off the image and crushed the plastic cup in my palm. Sticky red juice flowed down my arm. I passed him, my eyes on my fingers, unable to concentrate on anything until I removed the gooey substance from my hands. I flipped the water faucet on. Cool water showered me with relief for a second until the coldness penetrated my skin with icy bullets.
Hawaiian gathered the edges of the large black trash bag and yanked it from the bucket. “Listen, I know it’s none of my concern, but she’s awesome. We did twice the business as usual. Thanks to her mad calculation skills, the bad register didn’t slow us down. Not to mention her focus. I mean, she didn’t get one drink wrong.”
Drake’s lower back still leaned against the bar top. His head lowered and I heard the squeal of his shoe against the floor. I eyed his frame, the perfect V shape from his shoulders to his thin waist. Strong arms beckoned to surround me. Not Schwarzenegger big like Ton, but powerful enough to lift me into any position. His T-shirt didn’t hide his delicious chest, either. I loved muscles.
Overhead lights turned on. I blocked the blinding white with the back of my hand and eyed the sludgy mess remaining on the black floor. The stabbing knives of brightness to my brain broke through my lust.
I inhaled a deep breath, attempting to ignore the stomach-churning fumes and focus. If I didn’t do something, I’d lose this job. “I’m a hard worker.”
“I have no doubt. If Walter recommends you, that’s as good as it gets.”
“Really?” My insides floated with the promise of a better life, one where I controlled my fate. Not some foster parent or Straight Edge rule. No, I’d take care of myself for once. “Wait, Walter? That’s your name?”
Walter shrugged. “You can call me Hawaiian if you want.” He halted by Drake’s side. “Only she can call me that, though.”
Drake held up his hands in front of him. “Hey, I wouldn’t even think it.”
Hawaiian shuffled out the door with trash bag in hand.
“So, I’ve got the job?” I shuffled left and right, trying not to squeal like a little girl about to get her first Barbie doll. The dream of any toys ended a decade of Christmases ago when I realized Santa didn’t visit foster kids.
He squeezed his temples between his pointer finger and thumb. “How old are you?”
“I’m twenty-one,” I blurted.
He held out his palm. “Show me your ID.”
I pulled my duct tape wallet from my back pocket and retrieved the ID.
He scanned it for about two seconds. “Now, hand me your real one.”
Flames licked the back of my neck. Busted. Shit. “What do you mean? That’s my ID.”
“I’ve been a bouncer since I faked my age to work as one. Now I own a club. You don’t think I can spot a fake ID?”
I froze. If I showed him my real ID, I’d never get the job. “What’s it matter? You have proof I’m twenty-one. Now you can have me work at your bar.”
“You might think I don’t know how to run a business, but I do. And when I run your social and do a background check, I’ll know your real age. Save me the hassle and tell me the truth.” He handed me back the ID and put his hands on his hips in that God-like statue pose. His charm, or spell, distracted me enough to pull my real ID from my wallet.
“As I thought, nineteen.”
“Almost twenty,” I added.
“It doesn’t matter. You’re not twenty-one, which means you’re not old enough to drink, which means you’re not old enough to work as my bartender. I won’t lose my business by hiring an underage girl to work behind the bar, no matter how beautiful she is. Heck, you’d probably bring half the guys in the city to this bar. I’m not stupid; I saw the men lining up to buy drinks from you. The bar just across the dance floor only had a handful of patrons, but you, you had them drooling on themselves.”
Me? What the hell was he smoking?
“Trust me, if there was any way I could hire you, I would.” Drake shook his head. “I’m sorry about what happened at the restaurant. Margo can be a little diva-ish at times.”
“A little?”
“Okay, she’s over the top.” He handed my ID back and rounded the bar. When he turned, I saw deep creases between his eyebrows. Lines of concern? No. Why would a complete stranger be concerned about me? I never was very good at reading expressions.
“Listen.” The dip in his voice told me one thing―no job.
The realization that I’d be back on the pavement begging and stealing food tomorrow made my mouth dry. I couldn’t let him finish that thought. “Why are you with her if she makes you miserable? I learned a long time ago, if something ain’t right, leave, or it’ll only get worse.”
“I’m not with her anymore. We’re friends and business associates. Nothing more.”
I forced myself to stare him straight in the eyes. A silver abyss met my gaze, one that didn’t make me feel like it would swallow me whole with vengeance for looking back at him. It was more of a pool of welcoming water I could swim in for centuries. “Does she know that?” After a second, the nervous electricity shocked my insides and I looked away. “Doesn’t matter, I’ll find something.”
“You’ve had it rough, haven’t you?” Drake leaned into my personal space, but I didn’t feel the urge to run. Instead, my upper body tilted toward him.
“We’ve all had it rough. I don’t need a pity party. I need a job.” I hated the way my voice sounded like a whining dog. My fingers trembled, but I wasn’t sure if it was from lack of food or how close his face ventured toward mine.
Strong fingers wrapped around mine, and he squeezed. “It’
s okay. I won’t hurt you.”
I dared to gaze into his silver pools again and found a depth of compassion beyond my imagination. No sign of deception. No sign of greed. No sign of selfish desires. “I’m not scared.”
He brushed a thumb over the back of my trembling hand. “When was the last time you had something to eat?”
I straightened and tugged my hand free. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I can work and earn my own way.”
He sighed. “Well, my employees receive a free meal at the end of their shift. I’m afraid it’s just French fries and hamburgers, though.”
My stomach growled with enthusiasm, the sound echoing through the empty club.
“Ha, time to feed that monster inside your tiny body. You ready for that burger?”
Pride was one thing, but food was another. “I’ll take it.”
“I’m afraid I still can’t hire you to work the bar, but you did work tonight so I’ll pay you for the hours you worked. Also, the tips are split. It’s not much, but it’ll last you a few days.”
I scanned the room. A welcoming place where people loved music the way I did. “Well, perhaps in a year and a month, then.” My heart shredded into bloody strips of torn muscle and fluttered to my abdomen. I’d finally found a place I connected with for the first time, but now it was dead to me, just like my mother.
Chapter Five
The office displayed the same dungeon motif of leather and metal as the rest of the club. I could feel at home here after living on the streets for so long.
The low lighting allowed me to open my eyes without sunglasses. Bright lights had always caused headaches. In high school, I’d worn dark glasses every day to shield against the harsh florescent lights, despite the kids calling me vamp girl. I didn’t blame them, though, not with my pale skin and dark hair. I was practically a walking poster child for bloodsucking creatures of the night. But if I were a vampire I’d be fierce, not some sparkly punk with a conscience.
Drake handed me a red basket piled with food before disappearing out the door and leaving me alone in his office. The aroma of French fries and cheeseburgers filled the room. I slid a fry into my mouth and savored the salty goodness coating my tongue.