by Nicole Fox
A glance over my shoulder as I headed back to the bar revealed that the kids were still behaving themselves, for now. I gave nods to the staff working the bar and stepped behind it, taking a long, sweeping glance at the clientele, making sure that no one else was getting up to any bullshit. Sure enough, everyone was on their best behavior. Or, at least, the best you could hope for at a rock joint, and that was good enough for me.
I chit-chatted with some regulars seated at the bar before pouring myself a whiskey. As I sipped it, I spotted a familiar face down at the end—it was Roxy. She had a tall, half-drunk beer in front of her, her face cradled in her hand as she stared off into space. I watched as a few guys tried to approach her, only to be shot down without so much as a glance from Roxy. She had something on her mind, and I couldn’t quite figure out what it was.
Sipping my drink, I moved closer to where she was. As soon as Roxy saw that I was nearby, her eyes latched onto me and went wide with surprise.
“Zane!” she said, her tone one of the surprise you’d express seeing an old friend after a long time. “What … what are you doing here?”
I smirked, remembering that she had no idea exactly who I was.
“What do you mean?” I asked, deciding to screw with her just a little bit.
She gestured to the bar area.
“They just let members of the band walk around back here?” she said. “I mean, I guess, but it just seems like you’d get in the way or something.”
“Maybe if you were playing gigs like Revv you’d know all about these kinds of privileges.”
I polished off my whiskey and poured another.
“You ready for a refill?” I asked, pointing to her drink.
“Um, sure,” she said.
I took her beer and topped it off.
“No more vodka crans?” I asked.
“No,” she said, watching with a strange expression as I filled her beer and set it down on the bar. “Wanted something with suds.”
She took a skeptical sip, as though I was just screwing with her or something, like I’d filled her glass with soap suds.
“Thanks,” she said. “But this is weird. I mean, I’ve played a few decent gigs and I’ve gotten my share of free drinks, but I’ve never been able to just, you know, waltz behind the bar and help myself. You friends with the owner or something?”
I smirked. “You might say that.”
Right at that moment, one of the bartenders sidled up to me.
“Hey, Zane,” he said. “Sorry to bother you, but we’re just about dry on the new IPA you ordered in. I can request another couple of kegs, but we need to get the order in by the end of the night. You want more of that, or you want to pick out something new?”
I turned my attention to him, but out of the corner of my eye I watched as Roxy observed the scene with a confused look on her face.
“Let’s get some more of the IPA. Shit moved pretty fast; might as well stock it while it’s popular.”
The bartender nodded and headed off. I took another sip of my whiskey and waited for Roxy to put all of the pieces together.
“Okay. I’ll believe them letting you behind the bar. I’d even believe them letting a band as popular as yours help themselves to the booze. But no way in hell would they be asking you about freaking inventory. What the hell is going on here?”
“Take your time and think about it,” I said. “You seem like a bright girl; I bet you can put two and two together.”
She opened her mouth to speak but closed it up as she thought. Then, a slow, dawning look of realization formed on her face.
“Are you seriously the fucking owner of this place?”
I smirked and raised my glass.
“You’re the owner!” she said, tapping her forehead with the palm of her hand in a “duh” gesture. “No wonder!”
Then, of course, she thought back to our conversation earlier, the one where she’d revealed just what she was willing to do in order to a chance to play on stage here.
“Oh my God,” she said, looking down and shaking her head. “I can’t believe I said what I did. You must … you must think I’m a total whore or something.”
I let out a snort-laugh.
“Not like that’s the first time I’ve had an offer like that. I was just a little surprised—you don’t really strike me as the type who’d be into something like that.”
I chuckled again.
“And you’re worried that I might think you’re a whore? What do you think might’ve given me that impression? The part when you offered to sleep with me in exchange for something?”
Her striking eyes went as wide as saucers. She glanced around to make sure no one was listening in on the conversation.
“Keep it down, would you?” she said.
Between the music and the crowd, it was far too noisy for anyone to have heard her. And I couldn’t help but tease her a little bit.”
“God, I feel so stupid,” she said. “All I want to do is play at a club like this. I mean, not just any club— this club. I guess I got so excited at the idea of even speaking to someone who’d been on stage that I lost my head a little.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean you weren’t serious about the offer?”
I was a little surprised at my words. I couldn’t even really tell how serious I was being. It wasn’t much of a turn-on that she’d whore herself out like that, but the thought of Roxy bent over in front of me, her tight little ass bouncing against my cock … it was doing strange things to my normally cool head.
“Oh God, oh God,” she said, repeating the words while shaking her head. “You know what? I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough already. I should probably just leave before I make even more of an ass out of myself.”
“Hold up,” I said, not ready to see her leave so soon. “I just poured you a free drink. The least you could do is finish it.” I thought a little more. “That’s why you were here tonight, to see if you could play here?”
“Play here or work here,” she said. “Hell, maybe in a perfect world I’d be able to do both.”
I leaned back against the shelf behind me, wondering just what I could do about this particular situation.
“How about this,” I said. “Why don’t you come back to the office with me and we can discuss your experience and all that? Maybe we can work something out.”
Her eyes lit up. “Seriously?” she asked.
“Seriously,” I said. “Grab your beer and let’s get moving.”
Roxy bounced out of her seat, beer in hand. I stepped out from behind the bar and headed through the crowd, Roxy at my side. What I had in mind, even I didn’t really know.
Chapter 7
Roxy
I felt so goddamn stupid that I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t even know why I’d said what I did. I’d never whored myself out for anything in my life, so why was tonight the first time I’d made an offer like that? Maybe it was the combination of the opportunity and being around a sexy-as-shit guy like Zane. I mean, he was so hot that I didn’t even need a bonus to want to sleep with him.
All this crap needed to get out of my head, I realized as I stepped back into the hallway I’d walked before with Zane, back when I thought he was just a drummer and nothing else. This time, however, instead of turning towards that same small room with the balcony, we turned the other way, towards an imposing door at the end of the hall.
Zane opened it up and revealed a small but well-appointed office. There was a desk, a black leather couch, and a window that looked out onto the city streets outside. I nervously sipped my beer, wondering just what might be taking place on that couch ten minutes or so from now. Had he really brought me back here to take me up on my offer? I guessed I was about to find out.
Zane took a seat on the edge of his desk and looked me over with skeptical eyes, as though making some kind of judgment that I couldn’t possibly understand. Whether he was sizing me up as a potential employee, opening act, or fuckbud
dy, I wasn’t able to tell. Hell, maybe it was all three.
But he didn’t say a word, whatever he was thinking. The silence grew so tense that I started talking, hoping to fill the air with something, anything.
“Listen,” I said. “I know you’re probably thinking that I’m some low-class skank, and I guess how I could see that you’d feel that way. But I’m just really, really desperate for a job and your bar is … well, it’s fucking awesome. I’d love to work here. And I have experience.”
The silence returned. Finally, Zane reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a folded piece of paper. I spotted a light brown stain on it and recognized it as the copy of the résumé that I’d given to the bartender earlier. Zane opened the paper with a flick of his wrist and looked it over.
“A few gigs here and there,” he said. “And I’m not going to even start on what you were thinking turning in a stained résumé like this. I know we’re a rock bar, but still.”
The hot flush of embarrassment spread across my face. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
“And I’ve never heard anything from your band before. What if you suck?”
“We don’t!” I exclaimed, the words shooting out of my mouth. “We’re awesome. Just give us a chance. You can go online and listen right now.”
Zane looked at me for another long moment before opening the laptop on his desk. My heart began to race at the realization that he was about to actually listen to my band, to give us a chance. He turned the laptop towards me, a browser window open on the screen.
“Bring it up,” he said.
I pounced on the keyboard like a lion onto prey. With frantic click-clacking, I pulled up the sharing site where Vampire Hideaway’s first and only album was available for listening. Once there, I scanned the tracks, trying to figure out which one would make the best first impression. I ended up selecting “Come on Now,” the track that I’d always imagined being our breakout single.
I tapped play, and the laptop began playing the opening chords of the song. I sat back feeling nervous as hell. But before the song had a chance to even get going, Zane clicked the pause button. I was shocked, not sure what he had in mind, exactly.
“On second thought,” he said, crossing his arms over his burly chest. “I’m not even sure I want to keep talking to you, let alone listen to your music. Besides, after a show, listening to more music is the last thing I really want to do.”
“Then … what do you want, exactly?”
“Tell me why I should even think about hiring you. My club is hot as hell right now. I could hire the best bartending talent this city has to offer. And you’re a girl who probably couldn’t make a decent martini without having a drink book open next to you.”
“Do you … sell a lot of martinis here?” I asked.
He let out a dry laugh.
“Fuck, no—this is a beer-and-whiskey kind of joint. My bartenders get special pleasure out of telling college girls that we’re not going to waste time making their mojitos when it’s busy. But that’s not the point. I demand skill here. I don’t want some newbie behind the bar who’s going to freak out the second we get busy. I want to know if you can handle the pressure.”
“I can,” I said. “I operate under pressure really, really well. I mean, I play music, right? You can’t really be the type to easily crack if you’re in that line of work.”
He narrowed his eyes slightly, appearing to consider what I’d said.
“And I’ve worked in bars before; I can make whatever you want. And, um, well … ”
“What,” he said, a half smile forming on his lips. “Are you about to tell me that you’re a cute girl, and that always helps?”
“I mean, I’m not an egomaniac or anything, but I know that guys tend to slip me an extra few bucks every now and then if I flirt with them just a bit.”
Another dry laugh.
“Yeah,” he said. “I know you’re all about quid-pro-quo.”
I didn’t know what to say to that; he had me dead to rights. But I couldn’t help notice that he was dancing around the subject of what I’d said, what I’d offered.
Was he going to take me up on it?
Zane rose from the desk and moved closer to me.
“And there’s still the little matter of your … offer.”
Here we go, I thought.
“You said you’d fuck the owner, do anything for a job, right?”
I felt uncomfortable and nervous. It’d mostly been the booze doing the talking, writing checks that I wasn’t ready to cash. And now Zane looked ready to see if I was as good as my word.
He reached over my shoulder and locked the door to the office, his attractive musk invading my senses. As much as the idea of sleeping with him for a job rubbed me the wrong way, there sure as hell were worse guys to fuck for something like this. I couldn’t tell if I wanted to hurry up and get it over with or get ready to enjoy what was about to happen.
“Now,” he said, standing in front of me, his hands on his hips. “Are you gonna put your money where your mouth is?”
Gulp.
Chapter 8
Zane
Standing there in front of Roxy, her big eyes looking up and me, my cock only inches from her wet, sexy lips, separated by only a thin layer of denim, I had to admit that it was a tempting-as-shit-offer. If I wanted to, I could have her sitting on my desk, her legs wrapped around my hips as I drilled into her again and again.
But there was something about Roxy, something that made it clear that she was in way over her fucking head. I’d met my share of easy girls—hell, I’d even fucked my fair share of them—the types who’d suck a dick for a six-pack and a joint. I’d never taken a girl up on offers to whore herself out—just not the kind of guy I was. However, I’d been around enough of them to know that Roxy wasn’t one of those chicks.
She was pretending, and it was written all over her face just how much she didn’t know what she was doing. Innocent and dangerous all at once, but more innocent than anything. And I wasn’t going to be the guy who’d get her to cross over into becoming the sort of girl who’d trade her body for favors.
Roxy reached up, her hands moving towards my belt buckle. Before she could get there, however, I put my hands on hers and shoved them away. She looked at me, confused, as if wondering how she was supposed to suck my dick if she wasn’t allowed to touch it.
“Cool it, kiddo,” I said, backing away from her and taking my seat again on the edge of my desk. “No cock-sucking going on in this office tonight.”
Now she was even more confused.
“Then … why did you … ”
“Just wanted to see what kind of girl you were. And I got my answer.”
“Is … that a good thing or a bad thing?”
I crossed my arms.
“Here’s the deal,” I said. “I’m gonna try you out—behind the bar, that is. Normally, I’d never hire someone with as little experience as you, but something tells me you’re more than eager to learn the ropes.”
Her expression turned from confused to ecstatic. She opened her mouth to speak, but I held up my hand, making it clear that I wasn’t done talking.
“And those cats behind the bar now? They’re real fucking pros. You’re gonna have to learn how to sling drinks like you’ve never slung them before in your life or you’re gonna get chewed up and spit out before you’ve put in your first hour.”
“I can do that!” she exclaimed. “I’m a really fast learner and I have no pro—”
I held up my hand again.
“First lesson is wait for your boss to finish talking before you start running your mouth. Got it?”
She looked ready to say something, but instead nodded her head.
“Good girl,” I said. “But there’s more, so you’d better not get too excited. What you offered, telling me that you’d let me fuck you just to be able to play on stage, well, that’s some gnarly shit that I wouldn’t normally want out of an employee. So I’
m gonna let you work here. But if you think you’re ever gonna get on that stage and play, you’ve got another thing coming.”
Roxy opened her mouth to speak, panic in her eyes. But she said nothing.
Guess she was a fast learner after all.
“So, sling all the drinks you want, but get any hopes of playing here out of your head ASAP. Those are my terms—you can take them or leave them, I don’t give a shit either way.”