by Nicole Fox
Buck was strange—he was sleazy and charming all at once. Something about him made me want to do just what he asked.
“Fine,” I said. “But just for one drink.”
A smile spread out on his ruddy face.
“That’s all I ask.”
He gestured for me to come to his side and I did. The two of us headed down the block and soon arrived at the humble façade of Boozehounds. With its neon beer signs on the windows in front and dingy windows, it looked like any other dive bar in the city.
Buck opened the door and I learned right away how much it differed, however.
The interior looked much like Amped, but much dirtier and smaller. A few dozen tough-looking men were here and there, drinking and carrying on, a few of them breaking out into fights that quickly ended after a few punches were thrown. A four-piece rock band on the stage blasted out aggressive tunes, and the music was so loud I could barely think straight.
Buck slapped the backs of a few bikers on his way in, all of them greeting him like an old friend. Then he turned his attention to me and gestured once again for me to follow him. We soon arrived at a small booth with a dirty table.
“’Scuse the mess,” he said, sweeping the cigarette butts and bits of God-knows-what-else onto the floor with his forearm. “Have a seat.”
I did, and noticed right away that the noise was a little less chaotic in this spot.
“Now,” said Buck, his eyes on me as he gestured towards one of the guys behind the bar. “You’ve been with Zane for what, two weeks now?”
“Two weeks on the dot.”
A huge man with a big brown beard approached the table and set down two glasses of thin yellow beer. Buck grabbed his and took a long, deep drink.
“And what’re your thoughts so far?” he asked.
“Um, it’s good. I like it.”
But the incident with the CD was still fresh in my mind, and Buck’s eyes opened up in such a way that made it clear he knew there was more to the story.
“Is that right?” Buck asked.
He didn’t even need to tell me that he knew I wasn’t saying everything.
“I … I don’t know,” I said.
I absolutely didn’t want to get into the whole thing about me offering to sleep with Zane before I knew who he was, so I decided to gloss over that little part of the situation. Buck leaned in, coaxing me with his eyes to continue on. I knew that I was risking going behind Zane’s back, but I just couldn’t help it.
“He won’t let me play on stage at Amped, and it’s making me fucking mad,” I said, surprised at just how angrily the words came out of my mouth.
A smirk formed on Buck’s lips.
“I see,” he said. “And you’re with Vampire Hideaway, right?”
I raised my eyebrows surprised that he knew who about my band.
“You’ve heard of us?” I asked.
“You bet I have,” he said. “I found your Soundcloud through a friend of a friend who saw you guys play and I gave you a listen. You guys are killer.”
Something about what he’d said hit me the wrong way; I couldn’t put my finger on why. But he went on.
“Zane runs a good bar, sure, but he’s a stubborn asshole sometimes. Love the guy, though. And I’m guessing when you asked him if you could play he had some bug up his ass or something, so he said ‘no.’ And once he says no, that’s it.”
“I know!” I shouted out. “I don’t even need him to pay me. And I gave him a CD with my band’s album on it, and he didn’t even bother listening to it.”
The soft thwack of a fist against a face sounded out from across the bar, followed by rowdy cheering.
“Sounds like Zaney all right,” said Buck, shaking his head in commiseration. “Man doesn’t know a good thing when it’s staring him right in the damn face.”
Buck killed his beer with a long swig and spoke again.
“So what you’re looking for is a place to play, huh?” he asked, wiping the suds off his upper lip with the back of his hand.
“That’s all I want,” I said. “Well, that and a job. But I already have that.”
Buck crossed his ropey arms on the table and leaned forward.
“What if I told you that I could give you both?”
I raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“See that stage over there?” he asked, pointing in its direction. “Doesn’t look like much, but some of the top names in local music have played there. Judas Goat, the Lancers, Los Cordobas—all of them were regulars here before they got signed.”
“Are you serious?” I asked.
“Dead-fucking-serious,” he said. “And you can play there too.”
“What … what’s the catch?”
He shook his head.
“No catch. My deal is this: you quit Amped, come work here, and I’ll give you and your band, ah, let’s say Thursday nights to play. If you end up getting a little following, I might start thinking about giving you another night. And if you really start making a name for yourselves, we can talk about Friday or Saturday.”
“Are you serious?” I asked. “You’d give a night to some girl you just met?”
He nodded.
“If she’s got the talent, then why not? But don’t get me wrong—I’ve done my homework. A few of my regulars pop into Amped from time to time and they let me know just how much ass the new girl’s kicking over there. So I’m thinking that if giving your band—who I already know is good—a night to start off in exchange for you bringing your skills over here, well, I’d almost be stupid not to do it.”
I let his words hang in the air for a long moment as I thought them over.
“His loss is my gain, you know?” said Buck. “He’s been in this game long enough—he should know the pitfalls of putting personal concerns over business decisions. Like I said, giving you a spot is just the smart thing to do. Personal feelings don’t even factor into it. That’s not to say, of course, that you don’t seem like a lovely young woman.”
He flashed me a smile of surprisingly white teeth before calling the bartender over for another drink.
“And hell,” he said. “How about a thousand-dollar-signing bonus? Least I can do for asking you to jump from one ship over to another so abruptly. What do you say?”
It was strange. Everything Buck had said, from the offer itself to the reasons why Zane was being a little bit of a prick about all of this, made perfect sense. Everything was so logical, so reasonable, so professional, that I knew I’d be a fool to say no. The signing bonus was the extra bit of weight on the scale that made the offer too enticing to pass up—an extra thousand bucks meant that I could start looking for a place of my own tomorrow.
But something struck me as … insincere about Buck’s pitch. It was almost too good, too perfect, like he’d crafted it in just a way to make me not really think about what his motivations might be.
And what were they? I’d heard that he and Zane weren’t on the best of terms, and if Buck had gotten kicked out of Amped for being too much of a drunken idiot, then there had to be something I wasn’t seeing.
But the money … I couldn’t say no.
“Sure,” I said. “Let’s do it. I just need to put in my notice over at Amped.”
Buck’s eye went wide with eager excitement. He slapped his hands together, the clap sounding like a brief crack of thunder.
“Hell, yeah!” he said, his happiness suggesting he was pleased about more than just having a new bartender. “This calls for a little celebration.”
He turned to the bar, where a skeevy-looking man was in the process of pouring drinks.
“Yo, Paco!” Buck called out. “Two shots of whiskey for me and your new coworker.”
The man at the bar flashed us a smirk and brought over two shots of whiskey. His eyes lingered on me for a too-long time as he set the drinks down.
“To our fruitful new relationship,” said Buck, raising his glass.
We tapped rims, and I
downed my drink, the cheap whiskey burning all the way down to the bottom of my gut. And as it settled I couldn’t help but wonder just what the hell I’d gotten myself into.
Chapter 12
Roxy
“Wait, are you serious?”
Jess looked at me from across the bar with a totally perplexed expression on his face, as though I’d just told him that I was about to grow a third arm out of my head.
“Yep.”
“You’re really quitting?” he asked. “Already?”
“Sure am.”
He shook his head.
“Damn, sorry to hear it,” he said. “You were the best damn hire we’d made in a while, and we’ve had a lot of bartenders come through those doors. Can I ask why?”
“Just got a better offer, is all,” I said, leaning forward in my barstool.
“Okay,” said Jess coming in close as though he and I were about to hatch a top-secret plan. “You gotta tell me where.”
“Fine,” I said. “But don’t spread it around. I have a feeling it wouldn’t go over well.”
He raised his eyebrows in anticipation.
“Boozehounds.”
He stood up straight, his eyes going wide.
“Are you serious?” he said.
He turned to the banned wall and snatched off the picture of Buck, the one of him making a screwed-up face while flipping double birds to the camera.
“You’re going to be working at the bar owned by this guy, right here?”
He flicked the picture a few times.
“That’s the guy,” I said, my stomach tensing a little bit. “He promised me good shifts, told me that my band could have Thursday nights, and even offered me a signing bonus.”
“Shit,” said Jess. “That’s a hell of a deal. Ol’ Bucky must really want you over there.”
He turned around to Mia, whose back faced us as she sliced lemons and limes for the shift ahead.
“What do you make of this shit, Mia?” asked Jess.
“I don’t give a fuck,” she said. “Girl wants to jump ship for someone dangling money in her face, then let her.”
And that was all she had to say. I had to admit, Mia’s words cut somewhat deep. I’d felt like she and I had developed something resembling a close bond over the last couple of weeks, but I guessed I had just been imagining things.
“It’s fucking weird, though,” said Jess. “I checked out your band—you guys are awesome. And Zane’s always looking for top talent to get on the stage. I’m totally clueless as to why he’s not scrambling all over himself trying to get you to at least open for him or something.”
I knew the answer but didn’t dare say.
“Yeah, it’s weird,” I said. “But he was really stuck on it. Told me when he hired me that he’d never put me on stage.”
I stopped there, feeling like if I said anything more I’d risk lying right to Jess’s face.
“Well, we’re gonna miss you,” he said. “And it goes without saying that you’re welcome back here anytime you want. I know the regulars will be more than happy to see you.”
My heart warmed at Jess’s words.
“Aw, thanks, Jess,” I said, leaning across the bar and giving him a big hug.
“And just between you and me,” he said, lowing his voice. “I’m sure Mia’s upset about you leaving. She might not show it, but you’re the closest thing she’s had to a girlfriend in a long-ass time.”
My eyes flicked over to Mia, who was watching us as she sliced. As soon as she noticed me looking at her, she quickly turned her head down, as if caught. Jess and I shared a laugh.
Right at that moment, Zane strode into the bar. He was dressed in tight blue jeans, a white V-neck shirt, and a leather vest adorned with patches. A very serious look on his face.
“All right,” I said. “Time to do this.”
I followed Zane as he headed back to his office.
“Hey, Zane,” I said. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
He gave me a strange look and nodded for me to follow him into his office. Once there, I took a seat across from his desk, brought in a deep breath, and told him everything.
When I was done, he sat back in his seat, folded his hands behind his head, and let the information settle onto him.
“You’re honest to God going to work for Buck?” he said. “You, uh, you saw the kind of clientele that goes to that place, right?”
I thought back to the fights that had broken out just during the length of Buck and my conversation.
“It’s fine,” I said. “Not like they’re going punch some tiny girl working behind the bar.”
Truth be told, I was a little nervous about it.
“Some of those guys, I dunno, I wouldn’t be so sure.”
He thought the matter over for a second.
“And what’s the thing causing you to jump over there? The pay can’t be that much better than here, can it?”
“It’s … the band thing,” I said. “He’s giving me Thursday nights.”
“Really,” said Zane, his voice not going up at the end of the word. “Just like that?”
“Not ‘just like that’,” I said. “He actually, you know, listened to my band. And I didn’t even have to ask him to. He just went to my band’s website of his own accord and listened to the songs. Not like I had to make him a CD that he just tossed aside or anything.”
Zane opened his mouth to say something, but closed it moments later. He had to know I’d gotten him dead to rights with that one.
“Well, you’re a free woman,” he said. “And it’s not like you’re on contract or something.”
“I can put in my two weeks and everything,” I said. “It’s no problem.”
“Nah, that’s not necessary,” he said. “If you’re ready to jump over there I won’t keep you around marking time for two weeks.”
A moment of silence hung in the air.
“Then … is there anything else?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“Nothing else but me telling you good luck.”
I guessed that was all there was to it.
Chapter 13
Zane
“Anything else?”
Roxy looked up at me with those big gorgeous eyes of hers. Part of me wanted to say yes, there is something else—take those jeans off and bend over for me. I considered how very unprofessional that particular request would’ve been, despite how turned on I was getting at the thought of it.
“Yeah,” I said, “two things.”
I grabbed the nearby bottle of whiskey along with two shot glasses. I filled both of them up to the brim and handed one of them over to Roxy.
“First thing is that you’re gonna have this drink with me.”
Roxy took the shot glass and held it carefully, doing her best not to spill a single drop, as though it were some special, one-of-a-kind booze and not just a bottle of the mid-range stuff.
“Sure,” she said. “Damn, the drinking never stops in this industry.”
I let out a dry laugh.
“If drinking’s not your thing, I might suggest working at a sandwich shop. Good one right down the block—make you a killer Rueben.”
Roxy narrowed her eyes at me good-naturedly as she raised her glass.
“To your future,” I said.
“I’ll drink to that,” she said.
Then Roxy and I tapped rims and downed our shots. I’d had so much whiskey go down my gullet by this point in my life that it was like slightly acidic water. Roxy, on the other hand, winced like a college girl having her first cocktail.
I took her glass and set it down on the desk.
“And the second thing?” she asked, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.
“Second thing is this—just because you’re not working here anymore doesn’t mean that you and I are done. That means you want to come in for a drink, you’re more than welcome. And it also means that if you have any trouble, and I mean any t
rouble, you come find me, you hear?”
“Sure,” she said, clearly a little unsure of why I was saying something in such a serious way.
“You’re … getting into something that you might not be ready for. And if shit gets raw over there, which it almost certainly will, I want you to know that I’m just down the block. Got it?”