by Marla Monroe
She watched him saunter across the room toward the door. He had the tightest ass. Round and squeezable with muscle and curve. A slight shiver rolled down her back as a flashback from the night before when she’d gripped that ass as he’d sent her spiraling through another climax took her breath. She needed to separate the sex and fun from the bar or she’d miss something. Tyler was proving to be a huge distraction, but she wasn’t really complaining.
“Hey, Celeste, how about a dance. I’ll put something good on the jukebox.” Ted Crowley, a friend of Bart’s, leaned over the bar with a leer straining his mouth.
“Nope. Not interested, Ted. Seems like you’d figure that out one day.” She didn’t bother with being nice since this had been going for over a year now.
Celeste had long since lost her patience with the man. He’d long since stopped thinking he had a chance and only asked her now to piss her off. He knew she didn’t like him and even though he showed up occasionally just to harass her, he actually frequented the bar back on the edge of town.
“Now is that any way to treat a patron? It would be a shame for you to end up with a bar fight tonight breaking all your tables and chairs and no one to stop it. Don’t you think one dance is worth the cost of new furniture?” Ted’s eel-slick grin dripped with slime.
“Not enough people here interested in a fight, Ted. Just leave it and go on back to town.”
“Well, maybe a few more folks might show up soon, and maybe they’ll get riled up over some dumb shit. You just never know.” He lifted his eyebrows and seemed to try to wiggle them but she burst out laughing before she could stop herself.
She couldn’t help it, they looked like sickly caterpillars doing a hula dance. His come-hither expression quickly downgraded to fuck you and the hula dancing caterpillars joined in an orgy between his eyes.
“Bitch! You deserve whatever you get. You’ll wish you’d danced with me before the night’s over.” Ted slammed the empty beer bottle down on the bar and stomped out of the bar, bumping into Tyler as he shoved open the door on his way out.
“Whew. What was that guy’s problem?” Tyler took a seat on one of the stools.
“Got turned down for a dance,” she said without looking up.
“From who? I didn’t see a woman in here for him to ask.” His voice faded at the end. “He asked you.”
“Yeah, just like he does almost every week. He drinks at the other bar, but comes down here once a week to ask me to dance and then threatens to start a bar fight before he leaves in a huff.”
“Does he ever start anything?” Tyler took the iced tea Celeste poured for him.
“Not usually. Normally he only comes over when we’re not very busy. Occasionally a fight breaks out not long after he leaves, so he might have buddies stirring things up, but you never know for sure.”
“Why does he keep asking if you always turn him down?”
Celeste sighed. “He’s one of Burt’s old friends. He’s just trying to piss me off is all. What I don’t understand is why does he do it week after week without changing a thing about what he does? He’s got to be a bit slow.”
“One bean shy of a pod?” he asked, chuckling as he sipped the tea.
“That’s what I keep thinking, but he’s been doing this for over a year now. That’s persistence for a single dance. No, I think there’s some ulterior motive behind it. I just don’t know what it could be.”
The sound of the door opening and loud male voices caused both Celeste and Tyler to turn their heads toward the front of the building. Four big burly men walked in cursing and acting like assholes as they argued over whose truck was the loudest or some crap like that.
“Don’t look now, but I think Ted’s friends have arrived. I’ve had them in here before and they usually start a fight or try to.” She shook her head and watched Velma twitch her way over to ask what they wanted once they’d settled down at one of the tables in the middle of the room.
Velma was an old hand at dealing with their types, but she planned to watch them while they were in the bar. She was sure they had something up their sleeves.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll keep an eye on them and Velma. You concentrate on the rest of the bar.” Tyler seemed to have read her mind. She’d almost forgotten that he was there to break up fights and keep everyone safe.
“Remember, all that matters is getting everyone out of the way and moving them outside. You don’t have to take them down single handed, Tyler.” Celeste didn’t want him to get hurt either. She knew that bouncers more often than not ended up with some type of injury at least once a night when fights broke out.
“Hey, boss. I know my job. Move it. You’ve got customers at the other end of the bar waving napkins at you as if they were dying of thirst.”
Celeste grinned at him but moved on down to see what Harry and Clyde were needing. They certainly didn’t look like they were dying of anything but orneriness to her. Both men had been coming to the bar since before she’d taken over. They nursed four beers apiece and complained about everything from the weather or lack of weather to the cost of a haircut. She really enjoyed them when they showed up.
“What can I get you, fellas?”
“Nothing, nothing. Just wanted to warn you we heard some disturbing news today.” Harry took a swig of beer number three.
“Really? What kind of news?” Celeste felt the first cuts from icy fingernails as they dragged slowly down her spine.
Clyde cast a quick look over his shoulder toward the rowdy table where the newcomers were sitting. “Seems like someone’s getting tired of waiting for you to sale the place and leave.”
“There’s trouble brewing, Ms. Celeste. We’re worried about you out here alone like you are.” Harry shook his head. “Old man Johnson has plans for you, missy. You need to watch your back.”
Clyde looked over his shoulder again and shook his head. Celeste noticed one of the men watching them. She grabbed two glasses and filled them with ice and then poured a finger of whiskey in each. She set them in front of the two men.
“Thanks for the heads up, guys. You hear anything else, let me know.” She started to move back down to the other end of the bar but stopped and scrubbed at the bar without looking at either Harry or Clyde. “Just so you know. I’m not alone out here anymore.”
Both men just grunted, “Good, good,” without looking in her direction either. She knew something was going to have to give soon. Lyle had been extra nasty lately and seemed even more impatient with her than normal. Why did he want her out now more so than six months or even one month ago?
“Need four Bud on tap and four shots of gold.” Velma shook her head. “They’re up to something.”
“I know. There’s going to be trouble tonight. You watch out for Crystal and keep yourself safe. Let Tyler and me handle it.” She pulled the beer then poured the shots. “Oh, and make sure they pay per round. Tell them our credit card machine is down so it’s cash or nothing.”
“Hardball, eh? I like it.” Velma set up her tray and then carried it over to the rowdy table.
Celeste was sure they had already been drinking before they’d arrived. No doubt this, along with Ted’s promise of trouble, was related to whatever Lyle’s plans for her turned out to be. He’d gotten tired of waiting on her to give in and was planning to take things into his own hands. Well, the hands of whoever he got to do his dirty work. When she turned to check on Harry and Clyde, they were gone after only three beers. She walked over to clean up the empties and wipe down the counter and nearly threw away a note one of them had left on their napkin. She didn’t read it right there. Instead, Celeste pocketed it and finished cleaning that end of the bar.
When Tyler walked over to check on her, she asked him to watch the bar while she made a trip to the lady’s room. He nodded and stepped behind the bar when she eased past him. Celeste locked the door to her office and pulled out the napkin. One of the ornery old men had scratched out a cryptic warning.
If he can’t run you out he’ll smoke you out. Watch him.
Was Lyle planning to burn down the bar? Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose of buying it from her so he could have the location that paid less tax and had fewer restrictions?
I don’t get it. He’s been pissed about the bar, but I thought the anger was all about his son. If it’s not, and all he really wants is to get his hands on the bar, I’ll sell the damn thing to him and call it quits. I’m tired of the place and all the memories. It’s time to move on, but not because he forces me. I’ll burn the place down myself before I let him take it from me.
She pocketed the napkin and fixed her hair before returning to the main floor. She watched the four guys at the middle table and noticed that they were on their third shots now. There were about ten more people in the bar now, which meant more problems if a fight broke out.
She climbed back behind the bar and leaned in to tell Tyler something was brewing and they’d talk about it later. His face darkened as he leaned in to say something back. Before he could, the sound of chairs scooting back with one hitting the floor caused the dull roar to quiet to a level above noisy. Celeste saw that all four of the guys were standing up, with one of them nose to nose with a man from the table behind them. She could tell they were yelling at each other, but even though the noise had died down, it was still too noisy with the music from the jukebox and the continued loud conversations drifting around the room.
Before she drew in a good breath, Tyler had leaped down from the bar and advanced on the table where all the action was about to take place. She didn’t wait to see what he did. Instead, Celeste grabbed her baseball bat and thumped two good times on the bar. Most everyone in the bar was a regular and knew what that meant.
Silence descended like a torrential rain that dampened any sound outside its own. Six men now stood with fingers pointing and scowls coloring their faces various shades of red. They all turned to look at her.
“Get the fuck out of my bar before I bust some heads. I have a no fighting rule that you are well aware of. You break something, it comes out of your pocket and your ass or your knee caps. You can decide, but think fast because when I step down from behind this bar, I’m swinging while I walk.”
At least a dozen chairs scooted back as everyone surrounding the six guys put distance between their knees and the troublemakers. They knew Celeste meant what she said. She knew these guys were familiar with her brand of discipline, as well, but someone paid them more money than they had brains because one of the guys picked up a chair and smashed over another one’s head.
Tyler jumped in and grabbed Crystal by the arm and pushed her toward Velma. “Get in the back!”
Celeste swung the bat and connected with someone’s leg. His scream drowned out her “Strike one!”
By the time the fight was under control, there were two broken chairs and one seriously listing table along with four guys on the floor holding various body parts and the two others out cold from Tyler’s fists.
“Well, hell, babe. How much do you need from these guys to cover the chairs and that table? I don’t think we can fix the table.” Tyler drew in a deep breath and shook out his left hand.
“Two hundred should do it. That’s roughly thirty-three apiece. Go ahead and make it forty each. Maybe that will teach them not to fuck around in my bar.”
Tyler grinned and started jerking out wallets.
“Hope Lyle paid you guys enough to cover forty bucks and whatever doctor’s visits cost these days.” She took the cash as Tyler emptied their wallets. “Hmm, you may want to go on to the emergency room with that knee, mister. It looks dislocated.”
“Bitch!” The man whined.
Tyler popped him hard over the head. “Mind your manners. That’s Ms. Bitch to you.”
Celeste couldn’t stop the laugh if she’d wanted to. The few patrons still holding up the walls laughed right along with her. Just like that, the incident was over and soon to be forgotten by the majority of them. Just another night at Celestial Nights.
“Get our buddies out of here. Better not see your faces around here for a long time.” Tyler pulled one of the guys to his feet and kicked another’s booted foot until he groaned and opened his eyes. “Out. Now.”
“I think you need to go ice down that hand. It looks painful,” Celeste told him.
“Yeah. I didn’t have my hand fisted right when I hit that guy over there. I’d just swung with my right so my left had to do.”
Celeste winced at the sight of his swollen knuckles. Nothing worse than a boxer’s fracture. She hoped he didn’t have a crack or break. It had to hurt like hell.
“Velma! Get Tyler some ice for his hand. Crystal, help me clean this mess up.” Celeste grabbed part of a chair as Tyler took another piece.
“Hope you have a fruitier on speed dial.” Tyler picked up a leg with his left hand and immediately dropped it when he remembered his busted knuckles.
“Very funny. I order them by the dozen and should have at least four left. I’ll need to place another order, though.”
“What about the table?” he asked.
“That, I’ll have to order. We’ll have one less table until one comes in.” She dragged her pieces of ruined furniture down the hall to the back door but didn’t take it outside. She’d wait until Tyler could go with her after closing.
The rest of the night went by uneventfully. All in all, she broke even on the night if you counted the fact that they’d gotten two hundred and thirty-five dollars from the bastards who’d provided the middle of the evening entertainment.
Once everyone had gone and the bar had been tidied up, Tyler walked Velma and Crystal to their cars and helped Celeste take the broken furniture to the dumpster out back. He locked up and set the alarm before they both climbed the stairs and stood in the middle of the short hall staring at each other.
“I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do,” she admitted.
“I was kind of wondering that myself. I know what I want to do.”
“Me, too.” Celeste began unbuttoning her blouse. “My bed or yours?”
Chapter Ten
The rest of the week went by without incident. Tyler was beginning to wonder if the note the old guys had left for Celeste really meant anything or not. He’d gotten very little sleep over the last few nights since he didn’t like the idea that someone might try to burn the place down with them in it. Would the old coot actually resort to murder?
Well, Celeste did kill his son. I think I’d be perfectly fine with murder if someone killed my son.
Celeste didn’t think he was as upset over her killing Bert as he was that she wouldn’t sell the bar to him. If that were so, he wouldn’t want to burn down what he wanted to own. Of course, there was no second guessing revenge or greed.
“One more night and we have one off. I want to sleep late Sunday. That’s why I went to town for groceries today.” Celeste wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her body against his from behind.
“Whew. I was worried you were trying to get away from me for a while,” he teased.
“Naw, I’m planning on a day of wallowing in decadence. Besides, we’re making shepherd’s pie, remember?”
He could feel her full breasts against his back and their warmth seeped through their clothes. He wanted to turn her around and suck on her nipples right through her shirt and bra but didn’t want to leave a wet spot there when they were due to open in less than an hour.
“Right. I hadn’t forgotten. What are we making for dessert? I know I’m going to have a sweet tooth after the pie.” He pressed his hips back to grind against her pelvis.
“Stop that. Neither one of us can afford to get horny before we open up. It’ll distract us and Saturday night is one night you don’t want to be distracted.” She pulled back then reached around and ran her hand down his crotch, cupping his balls before pulling back and scampering out of reach across the other side of the room.
He twirled around and sta
red at her with brows furrowed and eyes narrowed. “You’ll pay for that later, wench. What’s for dessert?”
“What dessert? I didn’t plan on making anything sweet to eat. Besides, we both need to watch our figures. You’re putting on a few pounds over there.”
“Am not! I work out.” He looked down and sucked in his gut.
Did he need to lose some weight? He didn’t think his jeans had gotten tighter or anything.
“I’m kidding, cowboy, but the only working out you do is when you work it out over me.” Celeste squealed when he rushed her. She shot around him but had nowhere to run so there was no escape.
“So, what are you fixing me to satisfy my sweet tooth?”
“How about…me!”
“Oh, I could easily make a meal out of you, babe.” He released her and strolled over to the door. “I’m going to wear a T-shirt tonight. Like you said, with it being Saturday, I want to have the room to move if I need it. Button downs don’t give like T-shirts do.”
“I’m making a chocolate pie for you. Don’t get yourself busted up so that you can’t enjoy it.”
“Don’t you worry. Nothing will keep me away from my sweets. Got it?” he asked her before he slipped through the door.
He missed her answer since he closed the door and raced the few steps it took to get to his room. He wanted to grab a shirt and get back to mess around with her before they had to open up for the night. Though she didn’t mind that they acted familiar during bar hours, she didn’t want any hanky-panky going on between them. She was right. It would distract them and just wasn’t good for business.
He’d heard the girls tease her about him and to his astonishment, she hadn’t denied their relationship at all. In fact, she’d warned them to keep their hands to themselves.
“You can look but you can’t touch. Off limits, Velma, got it?”
They’d all laughed and Tyler walked ten feet off of the earth all night long. She’d actually claimed him. For some reason, he’d thought she would deny it if anyone asked to keep things looking professional. That she hadn’t told him more than words that she was as serious about him as he was about her.