Static

by Witt, L. A.

  “Not when there’s free food involved,” I said. “Are you nuts?”

  “Oh, whatever. Before we go, though, we have something we need to take care of.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “We?”

  “Yes. As in you and me.” She grabbed my wrist and started to pull me toward the front of the club. “You, too, Damon. Come on.”

  Damon and I exchanged puzzled glances. He shrugged. So did I. Then he followed while she dragged me through the crowd. My heart beat faster when she pulled me up onto the small stage beside the DJ’s booth. Heads started turning. Conversations died down. Embarrassment heated my face.

  “What’s going on?” I whispered loudly.

  “Just have a little surprise for you, that’s all.”

  “Uh, last time you surprised me, I almost had to—”

  “Nothing like that this time, sweetie.”

  The music cut off abruptly and the whole place fell silent. In an instant, all eyes were on us. My face burned. The DJ handed her a microphone, and my eyes widened.

  “Tabby—”

  She clicked on the microphone and held it up to her lips. To the crowd, she said, “Everybody, I think you know who this lovely gentleman is, right?”

  Everyone applauded and cheered. I looked at Damon, and we once again exchanged clueless shrugs.

  “Okay, okay, quiet, all of you,” Tabby said, and the room fell silent once more. “I’m going to keep this short and sweet so our bashful bartender doesn’t die of embarrassment up here.” She turned to me. “Listen, you can call us all a little presumptuous, but everyone’s heard what happened, and when we found out how expensive this surgery is going to be, we thought you could use a little help.”

  My stomach flipped. “You didn’t have to—”

  “We did, so hush. We passed the hat around, and . . .” She paused. “Well, we got a little carried away.”

  I swallowed. “Carried away?”

  “Oh, just a little. We only expected it to go on here in the club, but then a bunch of people spread the word to their churches, their offices, all over the place. Someone did a website, and I think someone even auctioned their underthings on eBay. Oh, and you should have seen the carwash.” She winked. “Anyway, after all that, when I counted it all up, it wouldn’t fit in the hat anymore.”

  My lips parted. “Tabby . . .”

  She reached into the front of her dress and pulled out a white envelope. “So, I hope you’ll accept this instead.” She held the envelope out to me.

  “You didn’t have to do this,” I whispered, surprised the words came out at all.

  “And you have about five seconds to take it before I decide to go spend it all on shoes.”

  I laughed and took the envelope from her. To everyone in front of the stage, I said, “You guys are great. I really don’t know what to say.”

  “Open it,” Tabby said in a stage whisper.

  I looked at Damon. He nodded toward the envelope. Being up here on the stage, in front of all these people, I felt conspicuous. Most of the time, I didn’t know what stage fright was, but this was all so unexpected, I was nothing but nerves.

  With unsteady hands, I fought to open the envelope. The flap finally came loose, and I pulled out a cashier’s check.

  “Oh my God.” I blinked a few times, certain I was hallucinating. “You guys, you . . . you didn’t.”

  “We did.” Tabby squeezed my arm. “Everyone here loves you, baby, and we all felt it when your parents did this. What they did to you was like kicking this entire community in the balls.” She nodded at the check in my hand. “So we want to help you kick them back.” She turned to the crowd. “Isn’t that right?”

  The whole place erupted with cheers and applause.

  I looked around. At my coworkers. At the customers, some of whom were regulars, some of whom I’d never seen before. At my boyfriend, who’d stood by me when I’d convinced myself a dozen times over he’d be long gone. At people I knew, people I didn’t know, all of whom were rallying around me when my own family had made my life hell.

  And back at the cashier’s check in my hand.

  The cashier’s check for ninety-five thousand dollars.

  And I lost it.

  Damon put his arm around my shoulders. Tabby put hers around my waist. I held the check in a trembling hand and struggled to regain my composure, but the dam had broken.

  Never in my life had I been so overwhelmed.

  Tabby kissed my cheek and whispered over the cheering crowd, “Don’t you dare try to say we shouldn’t have, or you can’t accept it, or anything like that. The money’s yours so you can have your life back.”

  I wiped my eyes and smiled at her. “As corny as it sounds, I really don’t know what to say.”

  She winked and picked up the microphone again. “He says he doesn’t know what to say.” She eyed me. “How about . . . Thank you, Tabby’s the best boss on the planet, and I’m going to go behind that bar and pour everyone in this club a free drink?”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “I am the world’s best boss, aren’t I?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Not in that dress, you’re not.”

  She smacked my arm. “Whore.”

  I laughed. Then I hugged her. “You’re the best, Tab.” When I released her, I gestured for the microphone, so she handed it to me. “You’re all amazing. There is no way I can even begin to thank you enough for this.”

  “You can start by pouring us some booze,” someone called out from the back.

  “Free drinks!” someone else shouted.

  They started chanting: “Free booze! Free booze! Free booze!”

  I laughed again. “Tabby, are you sure you don’t mind me pouring free drinks for everyone?”

  “Are you kidding?” She gestured at the gathered patrons. “If I said no now, they’d turn into an angry mob.” She pointed at the bar. “Now get to work.”

  I looked at Damon. “Are you cool with staying?”

  “After what they just did for you?” He smiled. “Fuck yeah.”

  I looked at the check in my shaking hand again. “I can’t believe it. I really can’t.”

  “Guess it’s true what they say,” he said. “Times like this, you find out who your friends are.”

  I met his eyes. “I guess you do, don’t you?”

  We exchanged smiles, holding eye contact for a long moment.

  Then I dropped my gaze and gestured toward the bar. “I should, um, get over there. People want their free booze.”

  He laughed. “Well, don’t keep them waiting, then.”

  “You’re sure you don’t mind—”

  “Go.”

  While I poured drinks for the gathered patrons, the DJ fired up the karaoke machine, and the whole place came to life. The other bartenders and I struggled to keep up with the demand, but people were patient. No sense being a dick when you’re getting free alcohol, after all.

  I was surprised that my hands were steady enough to keep the liquor flowing into glasses instead of onto the bar or elsewhere. The check that was now safely in my wallet. The barrage of emotions when I realized what everyone had done for me . . . it all still had me off-balance. My knees weren’t shaking, nor were my hands, but they felt like they should have been. There was a tingling aftershock, that reminder that I’d been a trembling mess just minutes ago.

  What I’d done, in this life or a past one, to deserve the outpouring of kindness from all these people, I had no idea. They could have easily clicked their tongues over my parents’ actions, shaken their heads, murmured that it was a goddamned shame what had happened. But raising just shy of a hundred thousand dollars? Enough to cover most if not all of the cost of the surgery? I was used to people turning their backs on me or grudgingly accepting me for the creature that I was. People who were close to me, who were supposed to love me unconditionally, had rejected me, and it was these people, all these friends and strangers gathered in the Welcome Mat, who’d picked me up, d
usted me off, and said, “It’s okay, we’ve got you.”

  I stole a glance at Damon, who was shooting the breeze with someone at a table not far from the bar. He looked up and caught my eye, and we both smiled.

  The rest of the world could kiss my ass. I knew who my friends were.

  The music cut off. Over the microphone, Tabby said, “Hey, Alex.”

  I looked up from mixing a mojito, eyebrows raised. “Yeah, boss?”

  “How’s your back tonight?”

  Oh, no. Tabby, don’t make me do this. Not in front of Damon.

  “Come on, Alex,” she said. “How’s the back?”

  Chuckling, I yelled back, “Uh, it’s okay . . . I guess . . .”

  “Good. Why don’t you earn your keep, then?” With that, she hit a button on the karaoke machine, and when the intro to “Simply Irresistible” started, three of us—myself, Colin, and Dale—groaned.

  “You heard her,” I said. “Let’s hit it.” Damon shot me a puzzled look. Then his jaw dropped when the other two bartenders and I peeled off our shirts and jumped up on the bar.

  Up on the bar, Alex and the other two bartenders broke into a dance they’d obviously rehearsed a hundred times over. She’d mentioned in the past that the male bartenders often did this. I supposed it shouldn’t have surprised me now that Alex himself was included in that equation, and I whistled and clapped along with everyone else. It was like the bastard lovechild of the Chippendales and Coyote Ugly. Goddamn it, I never knew he could move his hips like that. Well, I did, but . . .

  Whatever, Damon, just watch and enjoy it.

  Alex glanced down at me and winked. I just laughed and shook my head. Watching him like this, I had to admit that whether I was into men or not, he looked good. He looked damn good. The way he snapped his hips made me shiver, bringing to mind some other things Alex had done with her hips. Apparently certain talents carried over. Did they ever. Jesus.

  When the song ended, the patrons stumbled over each other to shove dollar bills into the tip jars.

  Alex jumped off the bar and picked up his shirt. Grinning like a little kid, he looked at me. “Sorry,” he said, panting and wiping sweat off his forehead. “We . . . um . . . it gets a bit crazy in here sometimes, what can I say?”

  “I don’t mind in the least.” My God, it’s good to see you smile like that. I nodded toward the end of the bar. “Looks like your fans await.”

  He glanced in that direction, at the gathered patrons who were still waiting for their free drinks. “Guess I should go take care of them.” Our eyes met. “I swear, I’m not ditching you.”

  “No, you’re not. Don’t worry about it. I’m enjoying myself. Now go.”

  He held my gaze a second longer, just enough to raise my pulse a notch, before he left me to go tend to his waiting customers.

  And how the hell was he messing with my pulse? My pulse which was already inexplicably racing after he’d been dancing on top of the bar? I shook my head. This was madness. But then . . . it wasn’t. After all, he was Alex. Why should it be weird for Alex to have this effect on me?

  A hand materialized on my shoulder, and I turned to see Tabitha beside me.

  “You’ll keep me updated after he has the surgery, right?” she asked.

  “Yeah, of course. He has your number, so I’ll get it from him and be sure to keep you up-to-date.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled. “I can’t even tell you how lucky he is to have you, Damon.”

  I laughed softly. “I don’t know. I probably haven’t made things much easier for him lately.” I dropped my gaze. “I’m still not quite sure what it is we’re doing anymore. And I still feel like an ass for—”

  “Damon, darling.” She squeezed my arm. “The very fact that you’re here at all means the world to him. I don’t think he’d dream of asking you for more than that.”

  I watched Alex as he carried on with some of his customers, laughing and bantering while he poured their drinks. The very fact that you’re here at all. In the back of my mind, I remembered being drawn toward the door, being tempted to run like hell from all this insanity, but my feet were firmly planted now.

  “Damon.” Tabitha pulled my attention away from him. “Don’t be so hard on yourself just because you’ve had second thoughts about things. Anyone in your position would have.”

  “I guess they would,” I said with a nod. “Still feel like a dick.”

  “Well, I can call you one if it makes you feel better.”

  I laughed. “Thanks, Tabitha. Much appreciated.”

  “I do what I can.” She grinned. “Anyway, I’d better get back to cracking the whip and making my people behave. Have a drink and relax a bit, darling. This is a party.”

  “Will do.” As she turned to go, I said, “Tabitha.”

  She looked over her shoulder, eyebrows raised.

  “Thanks. For what you did for him.”

  Tabitha smiled. “For Alex, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

  I returned the smile. “Still, thank you. I know it means the world to him, and it does to me too.”

  She gave a slight nod but didn’t say anything else. As she walked away, I watched Alex again. Once everyone had been served and was happily working their way through their free drinks, he came around the bar and joined me.

  “Looked like you were getting lonely over here,” he said with a grin.

  I chuckled. “Oh, I managed. There’s enough entertainment to keep me occupied.” I gestured at the stage, where a couple of women were stumbling their way through an ABBA song on the karaoke machine.

  Alex grimaced. “I don’t know if that’s entertainment or torture.”

  “A little of both, probably.”

  He laughed. He had one of the other bartenders pour us a couple of Cokes, then took me around to meet the various customers, many of whom had stories of people they knew who’d gone through similar ordeals as Alex. Parents, spouses, adult children, even grandparents had found ways to get implants into people who didn’t want them. The stories of coercion, manipulation, and—in rare cases, like his—physical force, were unreal.

  “My folks have been after me to get one since the things hit the market,” someone said. “They forced my brother to get it right before he turned eighteen, and he’s miserable. Fuck that.”

  “My sister-in-law convinced my brother to get it done,” one guy told us. “Six months after he put it in? He couldn’t take anymore. You can guess what happened.”

  “I have the implant myself,” a redhead said between sips of a cosmopolitan. “But it was my decision. I spent three years agonizing over it, and for like a year afterward, I’d have panic attacks when I wondered whether I did the right thing or not. Having someone else make that decision for you?” She shook her head and scowled. “No way.”

  And somehow the horrifying tales didn’t put a damper on the mood in the room. Everyone remained so positive and upbeat, like the combined effort to get Alex’s implant out was their way of making things right for him and for everyone else in his shoes. He gave them hope, they gave him hope.

  “Wow,” I said when we’d pulled away from the crowd for a minute or two and returned to the bar for refills. “People really are hell-bent on getting implants into shifters, aren’t they?”

  Alex looked up from filling our drinks and nodded. “Unfortunately. And a lot of them have the best of intentions; they just don’t realize how much this affects us. It forces us into a neat, tidy little category that’s easy for them to deal with, but turns our lives upside down.”

  “So I’ve noticed,” I said quietly.

  The music stopped again, and every head turned toward the stage, where Tabitha stood with the microphone.

  “Alex, darling,” she singsonged. “Our adoring fans have been begging all evening long for some Alex-and-Tabitha-style karaoke. What do you say?”

  A spotlight focused its blinding, blanched light on Alex. His cheeks turned bright red. “Do I have to?” he called bac
k.

  “Yes!” the gathered mob answered in unison.

  “The people have spoken, my dear,” Tabitha said.

  “But if they hear me sing, they’re all going to take their money back.”

  “We’re going to take it back if you don’t get up there and sing,” someone yelled out.

  He turned to me, eyebrows raised in a “help me” expression.

  “Oh, go on.” I grinned. “I have to see this.”

  He glared playfully at me. “Ass.”

  “Come on, Nichols,” Tabitha said. “Don’t make me drag you up here by your ear.”

  Alex groaned. Shaking his head, he dried his hands on a towel, and when he started toward the end of the bar, the crowd roared. They parted to give him a clear path across the room, clapping his shoulders as he walked through the gauntlet of fans.

  Onstage, Alex grabbed the microphone from his boss. “Before we do this, can I just say for those of you who’ve never heard me sing, there’s a reason for that.”

  “Oh, shut up,” Tabitha said into another microphone. “No one’s expecting you to be the next American Idol.”

  “Yes we are!” someone shouted.

  Alex snickered. “That must be someone who’s never heard me sing.”

  “Well, it’s high time they heard you.” Tabitha looked at the DJ. “Fire it up!”

  The music started, and the two of them launched into a duet of some pop song I’d never heard. They were ridiculously horrible, and no one knew that better than they did. At one point, Alex cracked up so bad he couldn’t even sing. He could barely stand, and Tabitha wasn’t much better. She couldn’t get through the chorus without collapsing into fits of laughter. With the way they leaned on each other and fell into hysterics, if I didn’t know any better, I’d have sworn they were both drunk off their asses.

  The crowd egged them on, cheering and clapping as the two of them wiped tears from their eyes and tried not to stumble off the stage. When the song was over, everyone begged for more, and Tabitha grabbed Alex’s arm before he could make his escape. The intro of another song started, and he pretended to beg for her to let him go, but then gave in and “sang” with her.