by Measha Stone
"Was he a gentleman? Cause I'll whoop him good, if he wasn't." Paul had boasted when Alyssa gave short undescriptive answers to his questions.
"Yes, he was the perfect gentleman. Very nice." She had soothed his flared ego.
"He's going to have to drive you out here on Sunday. The L doesn't come this far, and he'd have to pick you up from the Metra station anyway." Paul kept the conversation on his son. His handsome, authoritative, nagging son.
"Okay. He'll drive me out there." She had conceded.
"I know this is all new for you. I know you've had a shit start in life, but this is the beginning for you. This is the start of something great. I can feel it!" His positive outlook was almost contagious. He'd always wanted her to go to college. To gain a skill that would have her doing something other than wiping down bar tables and serving drinks to drunkards.
"I'm still a barmaid." She said before she could stop herself. She wasn't in the mood for her spirits to be lifted. She needed to remain in her reality. "I'm sorry. I know you want big things for me, but I'm okay waitressing. I made almost three hundred dollars last night in tips."
"Slinging liquor isn't a career," he scoffed over the phone.
"It will do for now," she found herself saying to him for what seemed the thousandth time.
"Alyssa, what do you really want to do? What is it that you always dreamed of when you were a kid?" She hadn't been ready for that question. She had given up on dreams long ago.
"Having more pairs of underwear that there are days in the week." She had answered before thinking better of it. She tried to laugh it off, but he merely growled at her. "I'm sorry. I have to get ready for work. I'll see you tomorrow." She felt horrible after hanging up on him. He wanted so much for her, but she was being realistic. Waitressing was as good as it was going to get.
Her cell buzzed again, four times in a row. Giving up on self-control she picked up the phone and checked the messages.
You can't ignore me forever
Your shift ends at 10
I'll pick you up at 10:15
You have some answers to give
She stared at the screen in disbelief. Stalker much? She rolled her eyes and tossed the phone into her bag as she headed to the door. Answers to give. Ha! Who did he think he was? He was her boss, that's who.
The night went by completely uneventfully, much to Alyssa's delight. Travis and his friends did not make an appearance, which left the staff in a much lighter mood than the night before. Alyssa was able to meet all of the other wait staff and the kitchen staff and get to know a few of them over the course of the night.
She was even able to watch a beautiful scene between a man and his wife. According to Kerri, it was the woman's first public scene, a flogging. She had taken to it with all the grace that her husband expected. His expression held such pride for her it made Alyssa ache to have that sort of connection with someone.
Even when she was connected to a dominant, she never connected emotionally. Neither of them entered the relationship expecting love, it was a mutual agreement in which both of them were able to have their needs fulfilled. Thomas always promised her she'd find the man that could handle her, her permanent dominant. Her response was the same every time, a warm smile and change of subject.
Kerri reminded her at a quarter to ten to cash out her tabs. Alyssa looked at her watch and wondered if Alex was already downstairs waiting for her. She hadn't answered his text with a yes or no, as it didn't appear that her permission was necessary. She had decided over the course of her shift that she would have to be blunt with him, that they couldn't do anything outside of work. They had to remain completely professional.
In the elevator she reminded herself again what she was going to tell him. She was going to explain that although she was friends with his father, they couldn't be anything more than co-workers. They had to remain completely separate outside of work. She was going to explain that she needed to focus on getting her life on track in this new place, and she couldn't be distracted by anything.
She had it all down pat. Everything down to the last syllable as she walked through the front doors out into the humid summer air.
He stood in front of an open cab door. His short sleeved t-shirt outlined his sleek muscular build, and his jeans had the same effect as he leaned back against the cab, with one foot propped behind him on the cab door and his arms crossed over his chest in a lazy where-have-you-been fashion. His blonde hair swayed with the soft summer breeze.
His clear blue eyes fixated on hers the moment her foot touched the sidewalk. She opened her mouth to give him her lecture, the practiced words and phrases. She couldn't remember a damn word.
Chapter Eight
Alex watched her weary body walk out of the front door of the club and wondered briefly if he should have let her just go home. That worry was quickly shoved aside when her expression shifted at the sight of him. Her eyes brightened and her lips twitched into a smile that he was pretty sure she didn't even know she had formed.
Alex had spent a few hours of the evening with his father. Ever since Paul had mentioned Alyssa a few days ago, something didn’t sit right with him. He hadn't bothered to call, but drove straight from Wrigley to Elgin. Paul had been surprised to see him walking through the gate to the backyard, but welcomed him warmly. Until Alex had confronted him this gnawing feeling about Alyssa and how she came to be so important to his father. The shame in his father's eyes burned him, even after the long conversation. He'd never seen his father look so vulnerable. The idealistic mold of his father was cracking and they both knew it.
"It's not what you think." Paul insisted as he sat on the steps of the back porch. Alex stuffed his hands into his pockets and rested one foot on the steps, trying to look casual and not the bundle of nerves that he was.
"Her mom, how did you really know her?" Alex asked, still unsure if he wanted the truth or not.
"At a conference, like I said."
"But—" Alex nodded.
"It was late, I'd had a few to drink, and your mother and I weren't in the best place. She was angry at me for what I don't even remember now and when I'd left for the trip we weren't even talking."
"You cheated on Mom." Alex accused and Paul shot up from his seat and came eye to eye with his son.
"I did not!" His lips thinned with his words and his cheeks flushed. "I won't lie and say it didn't come close." He slowly sank back down to the steps, holding onto the railing for help. "Alyssa's mother had a way about her. A sixth sense about a man drowning his sorrow in whiskey at the bar."
"So, this woman didn't work with you."
"Hell no. That woman didn't have a job anywhere. She worked the bars, she worked the conventions, but she didn't work anywhere that gave a paycheck." The disgust in Paul's voice mirrored what he had seen in Alyssa's eyes the night before.
"She was a prostitute?" Alex gripped the bridge of his nose, trying to calm himself. He was angry, but this was still his father.
"No. That would have been a step up. She was just a gold digger. I guess that's what you'd call her. Liked to live as a mistress."
"What happened?" Alex let out a long breath. The sick feeling in his stomach hadn't subsided, and he was getting tired of the buildup.
"I went home with her, like a fucking idiot. I was sitting on her couch, half in the bag, and she went off to her room to put on 'something comfortable'. While she was gone, this little girl, a year or so younger than you, walks into the living room. Her hair's all messy, a smudge of chocolate on her face, dragging a torn blanket, looking for her mama."
Paul looked away and let out a hard breath. "Her mama was in the bedroom getting dolled up for me. I felt like shit. Reality punched me right in the throat. Never have I sobered up so quick. I started talking to her; she'd had a nightmare. I managed to get her back into bed, and Alex, when I tell you she lived in a shithole, I'm not exaggerating. Her room was an oversized linen closet. There wasn't even a fucking window! I got her tuc
ked back in and returned to the living room. That mother of hers was livid that she had gotten up and was about to go give her hell before I stopped her. I stuck around long enough to be sure that little girl was sound asleep and her mom was calm."
"The little girl. Alyssa?"
"Yeah. I told your mother everything when I got home. Everything. It was the worst and best thing that happened to us. We got our heads on straight, stopped bickering so damn much and put our marriage back together. I almost lost her and you over some tramp. I was grateful for Alyssa walking into that room."
"Why'd you keep in touch if it was just a one-night thing?" Alex questioned his father, pushing off the steps and walking in a circle on the patio. So much to take in, to sort out.
"I didn't give a damn about that woman. But Alyssa. That little girl deserved a hell of a lot more. Your mother, being the kind woman that she was, agreed with me. So, every year I went down to the conference, I checked in on her."
"She didn't care for her mother." Alex sighed.
"Care for her? Hell that's all Alyssa did was care for her. That woman was a drunk and no one gave a crap about her. Alyssa took care of her until the day she died. Not out of love though. You're right about that."
"Why didn't you just tell me this?" Alex faced his father.
"Because it's not something I enjoy rehashing." Paul pointed a finger at him. "And you aren't going to tell that girl you know anything. She's always felt ashamed about her mother. Ashamed of taking the little bit I could give her. You aren't going bring that up."
"Of course I have to tell her I know! She has nothing to be ashamed of. I'm not going to talk to her about the details, but I don't want her to feel like she still needs to hide this."
"You like her." Paul cracked a smile.
"Dad."
"Why come all the way out here to ask me all this. You just met her yesterday. Why so interested?" Paul stood again and gave his son a playful punch. "You hurt her, and I'll kill you. Just so you know." He'd only seen his father look that serious a handful of times in his past, and he knew better than to push the conversation.
"I'm not getting involved with her." Alex had to stop himself from explaining that he was also her boss.
"Ah, bullshit." Paul chuckled.
"Dad." Alex took a deep breath.
"Look, what happens happens. I know this is a lot for you to take in, but none of it's her doing. She's as good as they come, Alex. Nothing like that mom of hers, thank the good lord."
"You fucked up." Alex whispered more to himself than to his father.
"Yes, I did." Paul shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded. "Your mother forgave me." Paul looked Alex in the eye, sincerity and vulnerability lurking in his deep blue eyes.
"You are the most honest man I know." Alex shook his head again, taking his sunglasses off.
"Still am?"
"Hell, yes. Most men would have come home and said nothing. They sure as hell wouldn't have done anything for that little girl." Alex's admiration for his mother grew. How it must have hurt her. The strength she must have needed to push past it and then reach out to a little girl that wasn't hers to worry about. He suddenly missed his mother more than ever.
"Your mother was a goddamn saint." Paul slapped Alex on the back as he walked up the steps toward the house. "She could have done a hell of a lot better than me."
"Yeah." Alex nodded with a grin. "But I don't think she'd agree." Alex followed his father through the back door and into the kitchen. He had declined the beer his father offered as he needed to get on the road if he was going to make it to Top Floor before ten.
Alex had thought over everything his father told him on his way back into the city. He couldn't imagine his parents not getting along. None of his friends growing up had parents that were so gentle and loving toward each other. It was gross as a child, but as an adult he looked back with an envious heart. His mother had loved his father with everything she had, and he had felt the same about her. The dark time his father spoke of never made it into Alex's memory bank, but he was sure Alyssa remembered every minute of her mother's parenting.
Somewhere near the exit ramp he decided that having a talk with Alyssa was the best course of action. They could clear the air and start over. As friends. She was his employee after all, and he would have to ignore the physical attraction he held for her. Even if the attraction was more than physical and carried over to her personality, her wit and her carefree aura. It was the best decision. Friends.
And then she walked out of the club and the city breeze blew her hair, and she smiled at him. Fuck friends.
"Hey," She walked up to him clutching her purse to her chest. "I wasn't sure if you'd actually be here." A hair trapped itself between her lips. He'd never been envious of a lock of hair before.
She made no move to pull it free, so he reached out and dragged a finger over her lips, pulling the hair free. He noted that she didn't jerk away at his touch, but rather her eyes softened. "You would have known for sure if you had responded to any of my texts today." He kept his eyes fixated on hers, watching for her reaction. She looked away.
"I was busy," she lied. He gripped her chin with his fingers and pulled her gaze back to his.
"Don't ever lie to me again." He kept his voice low and controlled. The hard swallow she gave explained that she understood his meaning. He released her. "Now, I thought we'd have a nightcap. My place okay?" He moved aside to allow her into the cab. He'd left his car at his apartment in case she didn't want to go back to his place He didn't want to have to worry about driving.
She studied him silently, rubbing her lips together in thought. "Okay. One drink." She clarified and moved past him and slid into the back seat.
"Do you enjoy having the last word?" he asked once inside with the door closed.
"Enjoy? I wouldn't say I enjoy it, but I would say I'm used to having it." She grinned at him, a sexy casual grin that told him how at ease she was with him. No nerves, no tension, just relaxed air.
"Hmm." He turned to face her as the cab pulled into traffic, playing with a strand of her hair. It was so touchable; he couldn't resist. "Well, I think it's safe to say that you will be used to other things very soon."
He wanted to laugh out loud at the shocked expression in her eyes. He settled for a claiming kiss instead.
Chapter Nine
He was kissing her. Before she could retort to his bold proclamation his mouth crushed hers. It was demanding, the pressure, the movement. She felt the butterflies start dancing inside of her at his touch. His hands dove into her hair, holding her in place as he deepened the kiss. His tongue brushed against hers, in an erotic meeting that sent an electric current from her tongue to her toes.
He broke off the kiss, pulling back and giving her a quick peck on the lips before staring back into her eyes. He seemed to be demanding her attention, her presence. She ran her tongue over her lips, where she could still taste him. He'd had a red bull earlier; she could taste it.
"You know those energy drinks are horrible for you," she whispered up at him when she was able to piece together a coherent thought. He surprised her by throwing his head back and laughing, a heartwarming laugh.
He sat back in his seat, and rested his hand on her leg. "How was your shift?" he asked as he looked out the window to watch the traffic.
"Uneventful." She looked out the window along with him. "Don't trust the driver?" she questioned.
"What? Oh. No. I hate traffic. The city is great, but there's so many damn people who insist on being out at the same time as me." He grinned at her, and she laughed.
They sat in silence the rest of the ride, his fingers lazily rubbing her thigh over her skirt. She told herself that she should have chastised him for kissing her. She didn't go around kissing everyone she met, and that kiss wasn't just a kiss. That was a claiming. The only other man that had ever kissed her like that was Thomas, and she hadn't come to Chicago looking for a love interest or dominant.
&n
bsp; Alyssa followed Alex through the expensively decorated lobby of his apartment building. The decor on the walls alone could pay her rent for a year. Aside from the soft music playing in the background, the elevator ride was quiet. The music in the elevator at her new building played in the key of rusty doors and prayers the cable didn't snap on the way up. When the doors slid open to a foyer larger than her old house, her breath caught in her throat.
"This is yours?" she pointed to the apartment in front of them. He stepped out and held out his hand to her.
"Yes. Come on, the doors are going to shut." She took his hand and walked into the well-lit foyer. The marble tiling on the floor was pristine. She noticed the shine and wondered how long it took to get it to look that way. He led her from the hall. "Let me give you the tour." He brought her past the entranceway to the living room, which housed the biggest television set she'd ever seen. He waved off the kitchen that boasted of state of the art equipment, even though he hated to cook—so he said. "This is my favorite room." He grinned at her and pulled her closer to him. He turned the knob and pushed the door open. She held her breath.
An arcade. He had a flipping arcade in his apartment. She laughed and walked into the room to explore. Pinball machines of various sizes and themes. A few motorcycle games, two gunslinger games, and of course Pac Man and Mrs. Pac Man. "Skeet ball!" She clapped her hands together when she saw the set of three lanes in the corner of the room.
"You like that game?" He laughed. "Let's play." He took her purse from her and tossed it on the Star Wars pinball machine as he led her to the skeet ball. A quick flick of a switch and the balls rolled down the corral.
She hadn't played skeet ball since she was a kid. Some random friend of her mother's had taken them to the carnival in town. He'd given her ten bucks to stay at the skeet ball game until he brought her mom back to her. She was there for three hours. She played with five dollars of the money, and pocketed the other five for lunch the rest of the week at school.