by Max Henry
Steph waved her off with a flick of the hand, and downed the last of her Latte. “Fine. Deal.”
****
Pete racked the short glasses with his eyes glazed over, his thoughts a million miles away. He hadn’t quite expected what Derek gave him when the old guy said he had news for him. Certainly anything but that.
Janie pushed through the door from the staffroom, and eyed his slow progress. “Got problems on your mind?”
He glared at the short woman, and continued with his work, albeit a little faster. “Mind yer fuckin’ business, Girlie.”
“Good to see you’re your usual delightful self,” she muttered as she took the tray of wine glasses from the washer.
He should have felt at least a little bad for being such an arse, but there lay the problem. He didn’t. Not in the slightest. Janie annoyed the shit out of him, and try as he might, he couldn’t push past the fact that incompetent plonkers did his head in. Maybe if the girl could pour more than a couple of drinks in a row without fucking up an order things would be different. But she couldn’t. And he hated her for it.
But not as much as he hated himself for how much the pretty girl at the Peterson’s had got under his skin. Stephanie. The lilt of her name as he rolled it through his mind felt easy on the ear. If it weren’t for the present company, he may have said it out loud; simply to feel the way his tongue caressed the consonants. Would it feel as luscious as it had when his tongue caressed her there? Or better? Jesus, he better get his arse in line before the crowd poured through the doors. As it was, he’d already caught himself raise his fingers to his nose, and test if any of her musky scent remained after last night—despite the fact he’d washed his hands plenty since then.
Guilty as charged, he’d sniffed that aroma a dozen or more times on his walk home from her unit. It was all he could do to ease the case of blue-balls he got every time he thought of doing her good and proper. The little girl liked to show-off, huh? Well he had uses for those kinds of talents.
Janie loaded a fresh roll of paper into the EFTPOS machine, and then opened the register. “Uh, Boss?” He looked over to her as he stuffed the empty dish tray under the bar. “Where’s the float?”
“Fuck.” He scrubbed a hand over his head. No way was tonight the kind of evening he could afford to be so out of character. “It’s still in the safe. Would ya mind?”
Janie shook her head, and headed into the cash room to retrieve the till drawer. Pete glanced about the service area, acutely aware if he had missed such a normal part of his daily routine, that there may be other preparation tasks unfinished. The bar looked in place, so he snatched a shot glass from under the lip of the counter, and poured a bourbon. Ten minutes until service, and he could already make out the dull hum of the mob who waited at the door. He knocked the fiery liquid back, and drew another shot to chase it with. The glass clinked as it slid into the wash basin, and he strode from the bar to the entrance hall where Gary stood with his best off-sider, Trent. The two of them near blocked the hallway with their hulkish frames. Pete called down to them from the beaded curtain.
“Let ‘em in, boys. Let’s get this shite over with.”
Gary nodded his agreement with a broad grin, and moved aside while Trent let the first patrons through. The rakish woman who headed the queue looked Pete over, head to toe, as she swung her hips along the hall. He noted her bite her bottom lip, and sighed. He didn’t have any interest in this shit—especially not when a certain brunette burned in his subconscious.
****
Steph looked at the huge line outside the bar, and cringed. Maybe this wasn’t such a shit-hot idea after all? Cass chatted happily with an old school-friend of hers they had come across in the wait. The two laughed over shared memories, and Steph smiled; happy Cass was happy.
She took the moment to case out the place properly. Adjoining bars hogged the street-frontage, but without a doubt, it was the crimson doors people waited to pass through. Steph searched for a sign to say what the joint was called, and failed to find one.
Cass waved goodbye to the woman she had spoken with, and turned back to Steph. “All good, babe?”
“Lovely,” Steph droned. “Hey, tell me. What’s this place called?”
“Atonia.”
“How come there’s no sign? How does anyone know it’s here?”
Cass smiled wickedly. “That’s the point. You have to dare to go in to find out.”
“Oh.” Seemed a little strange to her, but whatever.
The line shuffled forward, and Gary came into sight. He looked frustrated by a couple of young guys he had separated from the rest of the crowd. “Wonder what’s going on there?” Cass commented as she looked in the same direction.
“Probably under age.”
Cass nodded, and they waited in relative silence until the line crested the steps. Gary beamed when he saw ‘Miss Cassie’, and beckoned them over.
“No need for you to wait, baby girl. You should have come straight to the front.”
“I didn’t want to presume I was anything special,” Cass gushed.
He grinned. “You know you are.” He lifted the velvet rope and ushered them both in. “Have a good night, ladies.”
“What the fuck?” A male voice bellowed from behind them.
Steph turned in time with Cass to see one of the men who had been kept aside shove Trent. Gary pinned the man to the wall with a hand to the shoulder as the young guy continued to yell. “Why do they get to skip the line? Sexist fuckers.”
“Please, wait to the side,” Gary urged.
The guy struggled against his hold. “Fuck you, asshole. Who made you the boss of me?”
“Your fake ID did, son.” Trent gripped the arm of the young man’s friend, who looked like he was about to jump in on the action.
The first assailant spat on Gary. Cass emitted a low ‘ooo’ from behind her as Steph gasped in anticipation. Gary coolly wiped his face with his free hand, then lifted the guy by the fabric of his shirt, and hoisted him down the steps.
“Don’t ever try to come in here again,” he warned as Trent shoved the man’s friend after him.
Steph nudged Cass in the side. “Let’s go get a drink, huh?”
“Hang on,” Cass replied, and held up a hand. “I want to see what he does.”
“Why?” All the dickhead would probably try to do is swing a hit at the bouncers, and make a fool of himself.
“Because you should see Gary when he’s in action. It’s beautiful.”
Steph stared at her buddy, amazed that she only now saw the adoration in Cass’s eyes as she watched Gary do his job. “You’ve got the hots for the guy.”
“Fast, aren’t you?”
“How do you know him?”
Cass heaved a sigh, and looked over at her. “All I’ll say is that we go a long way back. And many moons ago, we shared something special—a life-changing event if you like.”
“But it’s still all Secret Squirrel and Morocco Mole?”
Cass laughed. “Yeah. Afraid it is.”
“Well,” Steph started as she watched the young guy try his luck at boxing a titan. “I’m going to get a drink. Meet you at the bar.”
“K, babe.”
Steph continued up the hall, and pushed through to the bar area. Her eyes swung right on impulse, and she watched as Pete served a couple of groups simultaneously. He moved with effortless grace, as though his tending skills were as much a part of him as the ability to breathe. Butterflies thwapped the inside of her gut with merciless wings while she pushed forward to take a place at the end of the counter.
The female bartender from the other night hop-skipped down to her, and shouted over the music. “What’ll you have?”
“Bourbon,” she called back. Why? Who knew? But more than likely she could relate it to the fact that was what he drank.
“How you have it?” the girl called.
“However it comes.”
The short blonde gave her a thumb
s up, then darted over to the shelves of liquor to prepare the drink. She returned a moment later with a neat glass. Steph handed over a ten, and gawked at the pathetic change she got back. How could such a small glass cost so much?
“Enjoyin’ ya night?”
She melted at the way he rolled the ‘r’. “Only just arrived,” she shouted across the counter.
Pete smirked, and pointed at the drink. “Gone off ya vodka?”
She shook her head, and threw the dark fluid back. It stung every inch of her throat, but she held back the urge to gag. He smiled as her eyes watered, and reached over the counter to wipe a drip from the corner of her mouth. The furnace in Steph’s gut fired at the contact, and instant pheromones gave her a delusional, false confidence. She pushed up on her toes, and leant over the counter to grab the front of his uniform shirt in her fist. Steph pulled him toward her until their lips were a hairs breadth apart.
His heavy breaths tickled the side of her face as she brought her mouth to his ear. “Perhaps I wanted to remember what you tasted like.”
The vibration of his chuckle rumbled through her hand. He pulled back, and beamed a luscious smile, before he darted forward to lick her lips. Steph dropped the hold she had on his shirt, but he kept her close with a quick hand to the back of her neck. “I bet I could make yer eyes water, too,” he purred in her ear.
Her heart shuddered with the rush of adrenalin through her system at such a promise. Here’s hoping he meant that in a good way. Steph slid back to her feet as he withdrew his hand to turn and serve the rest of the bar. A few patrons watched her with a keen interest, and she recognised the fire in her cheeks as she returned their stares. Yet again, the asshole had blindsided her into being so damn carefree that she forgot where she was.
Cass waved from the far end of the bar as the short barmaid sorted a martini for her. Steph nodded, and moved to find a path down the length of the room to her friend. She cursed under her breath each time some ass-wipe stepped on her foot, or yet another dickhead talked with his hands, or elbowed her side. Personal bubbles can be collected from the cloak room on your way out. Thank you for your patronage.
“We have to stay here until at least midnight,” Cass hollered in her ear.
“Why?” she mouthed.
“Gary promised me a dance.”
“Can he do that when he’s at work?” Steph glanced over at Pete, who ran his tongue over his lips. Her skin prickled with a sensation she couldn’t place. Desire?
“He said it’ll be quiet enough by then, and Trent can handle it on his own.”
She nodded and looked back to Pete once more, but he was gone.
“What the hell were you up to?” Cass drew an eyebrow up.
“When?”
“Oh, I don’t know. About the same time the whole bar watched you?”
Steph blushed. “Spur of the moment,” she said to her shoes.
“Huh. I need what you’re drinking.”
They both laughed.
If only that was all it took.
****
Pete fisted his hands in his hair and ground his teeth together. What the fuck was that all about? He was at work, for fucking crying out loud. The staffroom only fuelled his anger since he found the tiny space too small to get a good pace going. How the fuck was he meant to work the Steph-induced frustrations out of his system now?
He stopped before a small mirror on the outside of Janie’s locker, and growled. Look at ya, ya fuckwit. Ya look like yer father, and ya have yer mother’s cold eyes. Ya aren’t a fuckin’ romantic.
Pete lashed out a closed fist, and shattered the mirror into jagged pieces which rained down on the stained linoleum. He regarded the few cuts on his knuckles, and scoffed. Even his skin was too tough to be cut properly by a broken mirror.
Janie popped her head through the door, and looked between him and the shards. He grinned menacingly at her, and she stuttered out her words. “I need you back out front.”
“In a minute.” He waved her off.
She pulled the door shut, and immediately the incessant noise of drunken patrons and loud music subsided. He looked down at the glass, and resisted the insatiable urge to pick up a piece and slice himself to see if he still bled red. Instead, he kicked the shards aside, and headed for the bar.
Pete pulled the door open, and blinked to adjust his eyes to the dimmer light. He scoured the line-up of people at the bar. For some stupid reason he felt cheated not to find Steph there, waiting for more. Why he thought she’d continue to come back if all he did was toy with her, he didn’t know. But the strange look in her eyes each time he held the power told him she liked to lose control.
He would be sure as fuck be the only one to take it from her.
Steph threw back another shot from the tea-pot, and scolded herself for mixing her drinks. Live a little, huh? Even the devil on her shoulder had forgotten the mammoth hang-over of only two days ago.
Cass danced about near the table, lost to the music, as Steph lost herself to the numb bliss of alcohol in her blood. All night she’d stewed over the fact Pete could take advantage of her so easily. Yet she knew her misplaced anger toward him was just that—misplaced. It was a no-brainer to figure out who she was mad at most; herself for the way she craved the dominant man behind the bar.
Was she mentally unstable? Why the hell—after the end of a two year relationship with a jack-ass—did she want to chase after a man who took what he wanted, when he wanted? Was that why? Did she feel the need to rebel against what Dave had done to her, by doing the same?
Tell you what you want to feel …
Steph slammed a door in the face of her conscience, and poured another drink. She wasn’t that stupid that she couldn’t see how her body succumbed to him every time he touched her skin, shit, looked at her. But it didn’t mean she had to act on those impulses. Her mother raised her better than that.
Her mother.
Steph laughed out loud at the thought of what her mother would do, should she know what her daughter was up to.
“What’s the joke, sweetheart?”
Steph looked up, and into the green eyes of a handsome dark-haired man about her age. She glanced around behind him, but couldn’t find Cass. “Sorry, do I know you?”
“You’ve got a great laugh there.”
“Uh, I’m here with a friend tonight.” Not. Looking. Mate.
He slid into the booth seat next to her.
“And you would be?”
“Interested,” he said to her chest.
Clearly this moron couldn’t read between the lines. “Nice to meet you interested,” she held out her hand. “I’m Fuck-the-hell-off.”
She expected the guy to swear at her, throw a drink at her, storm off. Anything but laugh and put his arm around her shoulders. She stiffened, and tried to duck out of his grasp, but he trapped her to him by wrapping his free hand around her side—to cup her breast. Oh, hell no.
Steph turned her head to his hand which rested on her shoulder, and laid her lips on the fleshy side of his palm. He hummed, and obviously thought she was keen until she sunk her teeth into him. He howled out, and pulled his arm away from her. The hand which cupped her chest rose up and slapped her hard—unnecessarily hard, given his proximity to her. Her knee-jerk reaction was to punch him in the groin. She sidled around to the far side of the booth to escape as he growled in pain. Steph stood to leave, when a strong grip tugged hard on her pony-tail, and made her topple back. She fell on her ass into the booth once more. Her ribs collided with the table as she went.
“Let me go, you creep!”
He laughed behind her. “You’re a feisty one. Love to get you in the sack.”
“Keep dreaming, ass-wipe.” Steph relaxed against his pull so that she fell back into his lap. She reached up and stuck her fingers in his nostrils, and pushed hard.
He screamed out, and released her pony-tail. She slid off the side of the seat, unceremoniously onto the sticky floor, and away from his re
ach. As she scrambled to her feet from under the table, Cass pushed through the small group of on-lookers.
“You okay, babe? Shit! I only left to go to the loo.”
“Fine,” Steph growled in the guy’s direction.
“Good luck finding anyone else you ugly bitch,” he spat at her.
She flicked him her middle finger, and turned to leave the place. Could the night possibly get any better after it hit such a low? As she passed the bar on her way to the exit, she recognised the familiar sound of laughter. His laughter.
“That was gold.” Pete clapped.
Steph rushed the bar, and people parted to let her through in her dishevelled state. “Fuck you! How dare you stand there and watch. Didn’t it occur to you to do anything?”
His face drew steely. “I think ya handled yerself fine.”
“Oh yeah,” she scoffed. “I forgot. The only thing you’d do—” she said as she jabbed a finger at him. “—is join in. After all, that’s all you’ve done so far, isn’t it? Assault me to get what you want?”
His face turned to pure rage, and he strode toward the end of the bar. She matched his pace, and met him at the far end as he flung the divider back so hard it bounced off the wall. The wood narrowly missed him as he passed through.
“You—” he growled, and shoved her in the shoulder. “—were gaggin’ for it, Love. Last I looked, ya fuckin’ enjoyed what ya gave me.”
“Steph, what’s he talking about?” Cass asked as the two of them argued.
She held a hand up to her friend, and continued with Pete. “Well it’s more than you gave me, you selfish asshole.” She knew the drink spurred her verbal diarrhoea, but what did she have left to lose with this clown?
“Is that it?” He nodded, and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re pissed off I didn’t fuck ya?”
Steph drew her lips into a firm line, and slapped him.
He reeled, but stood his ground. “Do it again, ya little hussy. I love the pain.” His glare scared the daylights out of her, but like hell she would back down first. Plus, her legs were such jelly, she didn’t know if she’d make it far.