Love at Last Call

by M. Ullrich

  Love at Last Call

  Lauren Daly is fed up with her dead-end job, frustrating roommates, and unhealthy love life. She escapes to The Dollhouse, New Jersey’s hottest lesbian bar, where disappearing in a crowd of gorgeous women is exactly what she needs at the end of the day. But when the owner, Berit Matthews, approaches her for a casual hookup, Lauren pushes her away, knowing better than to put her heart on the line for a playgirl.

  Berit loves her bar, her life, and the casual connections she has with the women around her. She can’t help her simmering attraction for Lauren, though, and Lauren’s rejection challenges her to prove she's capable of friendship, kindness, and even matchmaking. Berit’s efforts draw them closer than either expected, but when The Dollhouse is threatened, they’re forced to fight for their sanctuary and their newfound love.

  Praise for M. Ullrich

  “M. Ullrich’s books have a uniqueness that we don’t always see in this particular genre. Her stories go a bit outside the box and they do it in the best possible way. Fake It till You Make It is no exception.”—The Romantic Reader Blog

  Life in Death “is a well written book, the characters have depth and are complex, they become friends and you cannot help but hope that Marty and Suzanne can find a way back to each other. There aren’t many books that I know from one read that I will want to read time and time again, but this is one of them.”—Sapphic Reviews

  “M. Ullrich’s Fake It till You Make It just clarifies why she is one of my favorite authors. The storyline was tight, the characters brought emotion and made me feel like I was living the story with them, and best of all, I had fun reading every word.”—Les Rêveur

  Love at Last Call

  Brought to you by

  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.

  Love at Last Call

  © 2018 By M. Ullrich. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13:978-1-63555-198-3

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, NY 12185

  First Edition: July 2018

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editor: Jerry L. Wheeler

  Production Design: Stacia Seaman

  Cover Design by Tammy Seidick

  By the Author

  Fortunate Sum

  Life in Death

  Fake It till You Make It

  Time Will Tell

  Love at Last Call

  The Boss of Her

  (with Julie Cannon and Aurora Rey)

  Acknowledgments

  Five full-length novels later, and this is still one of the hardest parts of the process. I have so many people to thank and acknowledge—it truly takes a village to produce a novel worthy of reading. Thank you to Radclyffe and Sandy for your encouragement and for keeping me on this brilliant team. Jerry, I’m so lucky and grateful to have you as my editor. Your patience and guidance are not only a necessity but a gift as well. I’ve come to depend on your comments for a good laugh or a good lesson. Oftentimes both. A huge thanks goes to Cindy and Stacia for making the last few steps easygoing even in the face of expedited deadlines, and to everyone whose name I’ve yet to learn. Y’all are a dream team.

  The support system and the family I’ve found within Bold Strokes continues to enrich my career and my life. I’m surrounded by talent that inspires, individuals who enlighten, and goofballs who entertain.

  Speaking of goofballs…Kris and Maggie, thank you (a million times) for simply being the sweet friends and magnificent writers you are. You push me and embolden me and accept me for my inappropriateness. GBAR forever!

  Heather, my beautiful wife, my lovely everything—thank you for not allowing me to stop doing what I love just because I’m tired. Thank you for continuously reminding me of all the good there is in life. Thank you for loving me and for cooking me the most amazing breakfasts on the weekends. In return, I wrote Berit for you, a character you can crush on. HARD.

  And a special thank you to each and every one of my readers. You all make every book a different writing experience. Rach, Kaz, the team at TLR, and every reader who takes the time to review or reach out with feedback: you help the greatness of Lesfic grow. Thank you for putting your time into what we create.

  Cheers!

  For Heather,

  My smooth shot at true love

  Chapter One

  Nothing made Berit Matthews feel more electric than pouring the perfect cocktail while a line of beautiful women waited their turn for her services. A little flick of her wrist, a well-timed wink, and the slow rub of a lime wedge along the cool rim of a glass made more patrons swoon than an articulate pickup line. Berit lived for busy nights like these. Her bar was always bustling on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights. Berit had opened the Dollhouse nearly five years ago and it became her home, her baby, and the only long-term commitment in her life—a fact Berit was more than okay with. The dim lighting in the lounge area cast faint shadows along the Dollhouse’s attractive waitresses as they served guests.

  “What are the specials for tonight?” a tall blonde asked, leaning over the bar provocatively.

  Berit looked from the woman’s cleavage to her smoky eyes. She didn’t recognize her as a regular. “It’s Friday, so we have three-dollar craft beers and a signature cocktail, the Friday Night Fever.”

  “What’s in that?”

  “Gin, vermouth, Dubonnet Rouge, and just a hint of anisette.” Berit smiled and pulled out a chilled martini glass but stopped when her customer’s face turned sour.

  “That sounds disgusting,” she said, reaching over and holding Berit’s hand to stop her. “I’d love a beer, though. One that doesn’t taste too much like beer but will still give me a buzz.”

  Berit sighed deeply, but her polite smile never wavered. For every three customers who’d appreciate artisan cocktails and local craft beer, one person couldn’t care less. Berit pulled a stocky bottle from one of the many refrigerators beneath the bar and popped the top. A thin cloud formed above the lip of the bottle. She placed it on a small napkin embossed with the Dollhouse’s logo and pushed it toward the woman.

  “Try this,” Berit said, leaning forward to be heard clearly over the chatter in the bar and the mix of pop hits and classic rock filling the space. “They added raspberries and a little lemon zest during brewing. I think you’ll like it.”

  “I think you’re right.” She sipped from the bottle, her move practiced and seductive. “I’m not surprised you know exactly what I’d like.”

  Berit smirked. “Would you like to start a tab?”

  She placed a twenty on the bar and pulled the napkin out from beneath her beer. “Keep the change,” she said while scribbling on the napkin with a pen from her designer purse. “Call me sometime. Soon.” She held the napkin out for Berit but pulled it back before Berit could grab it. “My name is Annie.”

  Berit snatched the napkin. “Nice to meet you, Annie.”

  “Berit, stop flirting and take some orders,” a waitress said as she sidled up to the bar behind the partition separating bar guest orders from waitstaff orders. She placed her tray on the glossy wooden bar with a loud s
mack.

  Berit kept her eyes on Annie and smiled. “Let me know if you need another beer, Annie.” She added a wink for good measure and sauntered toward the waitress. “Bellamy, what did I tell you about interrupting me while I’m with customers?” Berit liked to sound like a strict boss, but her dazzling smile and playful hazel eyes belied anything firm in her voice. She tucked the napkin into her back pocket and took several orders at once.

  “How many does that make for tonight?”

  “How many what?” Berit placed two full pint glasses on the bar top and collected a small pile of tips.

  “Numbers. How many numbers?” Bellamy said as she waited for Berit’s full attention.

  “I’m not counting.”

  Bellamy shot her a disbelieving look.

  “Seven, but really only four because a few were from regulars who slide me their number every week.”

  “Silly them,” Bellamy said with a laugh. “I need two Blue Moons, a Yuengling, three Fevers, and a Manhattan, and I swear to God, Berit, if you put them in martini glasses you’re cleaning the mess.”

  “I’ll make an exception and use the saucer glasses I usually reserve for champagne, but only for you.” Berit went about preparing the drinks, methodically grabbing cherries and orange slices for garnish. She handled multiple liquor bottles at once, counting as she poured a steady stream into two separate shakers. A dash of added flavors went into each cup before she sealed glasses into them and picked them up. Berit stared into the wide eyes of the women on the other side of the bar as she began shaking the cups. She spun them once and then twice on the flat of her palms, smiling when a cute redhead’s mouth fell open. A little added flair when shaking up cocktails went a long way for bar patrons. She poured the liquor and garnished the glasses accordingly before pulling back the handle of the beer tap. “Anything else?” she said with a cocky smile. Bellamy leaned farther into the lighting under the bar. Berit loved the way her dark skin glistened beneath the amber lights.

  Bellamy waited for Berit to place the drinks securely in the center of her tray. “Plan on calling any of those numbers tonight?” Berit shook her head and Bellamy smiled, her white teeth contrasting with her skin. “What about my number?” She bit her lower lip.

  Berit followed the deep V of Bellamy’s tank top with her eyes and licked her lips. “Why don’t you take those drinks to your table so I can watch you walk away?” Bellamy laughed and lifted the tray. She walked away with the most tempting sway to her full hips.

  Berit returned to her work behind the bar. She loaded dirty glasses into a small portable dishwasher and wiped down any vacant spaces. Berit liked the Dollhouse to be clean and orderly at all times. More women lined up to be served, and she took the first of four women’s order.

  “I’ll have two Slippery Nipples,” she said so innocently, Berit had to bite her tongue.

  Berit flipped her sandy blond curls from her face and looked to the next woman, an attractive baby butch. “And for you?”

  “Bud Light in a bottle, please.”

  “We have some cheap craft beers tonight, if you’re interested,” Berit encouraged as she started on the shots.

  “Just a Bud Light is fine.”

  “Coming right up.”

  “I’ll take over, Berit.” Another bartender, Lou, stepped in with a beer in one hand and a bottle of Baileys in the other. “They need your help in the storage room. We lost a case of Svedka, apparently.” Lou brushed the hair from her face with her shoulder.

  Berit stepped back and wiped her hands on the towel she always kept tucked into the back of her tight jeans. “Did you check—”

  “Where we’ve kept the cases of vodka for over four years? Yeah, I checked.” Lou’s attitude was out and proud that night. The butch who’d ordered the Bud smiled, clearly liking her new, feisty bartender better than Berit.

  “I was going to suggest the receiving room, but whatever.” Berit waved her hands childishly. She stalked off toward the room that housed many, many bottles of liquor and cases of imported and domestic beer. Berit looked around, carefully checking every label on the full shelves to see if someone had stocked them incorrectly.

  Berit loved everything about the Dollhouse, even its stockroom. All the different-colored bottles caught the light magically and painted the shelves with hypnotic prisms. She’d started planning for her business nearly ten years ago, and when the doors opened, she’d felt overwhelmed with pride.

  She squatted and read each case stuffed below the last shelf on the wall. Lou wasn’t lying. She didn’t see any Svedka amongst the vodka. Berit made her way out of the stockroom, past the door to her office, and into the small receiving room where they took in deliveries and kept overstock. Each box was marked carefully with receiving dates and the initials of the individual who checked in the delivery. Berit grabbed the clipboard hanging on the far wall and read down the list of that week’s deliveries. She ran her finger along the list and landed on the final item: one case of Svedka vodka taken in that afternoon. The initials next to it: BM.

  “Shit,” she said quietly. Berit hung the clipboard up and rushed to her office. She swung the door open and grimaced at the case of vodka sitting on her cluttered desk. Her lips flapped with a long exhale.

  “Mom always said you’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached.”

  Berit jumped at the intrusion. She lifted the box with a grunt and turned around. “Shut up, Lou.” Berit stormed past her younger sister and put the box in the storeroom where it belonged, ignoring Lou’s laughter.

  “I knew I should’ve checked your office.”

  “Jeez—”

  “Don’t you dare say it!”

  “Jeez Louise, why don’t you just turn into Mom already and get it over with.” Berit’s smirk of satisfaction fell when the box started to slip from her grip. She stacked it next to the rest of the vodka cases. She flipped her short, wavy hair from her eyes again. “I’d love to stay and fight, but I have a bar full of beautiful women waiting for me.” Berit pushed the sleeves of her flannel up, revealing the colorful tattoos on her left arm.

  Lou followed Berit out to the bar. Right before they parted, she said, “Wow, I’m surprised your head fit through the doorway.”

  Berit gave her sister a playful shove and reclaimed her spot behind the thirteen-foot bar.

  The rest of the night went the same; women, and a few men, lined up and waited for perfectly crafted drinks. Crowds of people lounged and enjoyed the company around them. Berit knew no other feeling could compare to seeing people delight in her space, the one she had worked so hard to open. Berit would stand back and soak it all in from time to time, when a lull allowed her to watch as people sat and talked contently. Morristown, New Jersey, hadn’t been the same since Berit had brought the queer women’s scene to them, and if you asked any of the faces in the crowd, they’d agree everyone was better off with the Dollhouse on South Street.

  A stout staff member approached Berit toward the end of the night, staring at her seriously as she pointed to a brass bell hanging by the bar. “If you don’t ring that damn bell, I will.”

  Berit looked at her watch. Almost closing time. “You do the honors, Dee.” Berit stepped aside and flicked the switch for the fluorescent sign reading “Last Call.” The last call bell rang through the space.

  Within thirty minutes, every tab was paid and Berit sat counting the register as one of her regulars, Rosa, finished her last drink.

  “You should stay open until three,” she said before taking the final sip of her martini. Rosa never got drunk; she just liked to end some days surrounded by good vibes.

  “If the town allowed it, I would.” Berit caught Bellamy milling about in her peripheral vision, undoubtedly waiting to get their night started. “But some people in this town barely like me at all, so I won’t rock the boat.” Berit shot Bellamy an apologetic smile. Their casual entanglement was still very new.

  Rosa stood and threw a handful of folded bills on the bar.
“What’s not to like about you? You got the dimples, the perfectly unstyled hair, and swagger.” Rosa looked Berit up and down like she was a life-sized version of her favorite dessert. “You definitely have that swagger.”

  Berit laughed outright. “Thanks, Rosa. You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

  “Tell that to my ex,” Rosa said with a sad, tired smile. “Good night, Berit. See you next week.”

  “See you next week, Rosa.” Berit watched Rosa as she left. She knew more about Rosa than she did many of her friends. The blessing and the curse of being a bartender. The Dollhouse held nothing more than employees now. “Lou, you ready to close up?” Berit kept her eyes on Bellamy the whole time she spoke. She removed the folded towel from her back pocket and tossed it on the counter.

  Bellamy approached Berit slowly, a predatory smirk playing on her full lips. “Your place or mine?”

  “Mine,” Berit said quickly. “Hugo’s been alone all day, and the last time I sent Lou to check on him, she dressed him in a sweater.” She smiled at the thought of her loyal Chihuahua.

  “Hey, he loved his cardigan. He looked quite fetching in it.” Lou’s mouth fell open in a proud grin. Berit and Bellamy groaned.

  “How long have you been waiting to make that joke?” Berit turned off the lights and led the way to the back door. They stepped out into the chilled spring night.

  “Too long.”

  “I figured.” Berit chuckled and walked to her yellow Jeep. She stopped and spun around to say, “I can’t wait to do this all again tomorrow.”