Power Play

by Landish, Lauren

  “How can I help you boys this evening?” she asks when she finally comes over, her voice filled with a natural country twang that tells me she’s grown up in the South.

  I’ve never particularly cared for country accents, even though Bane is a Southern city. The people in my usual circles are mostly private school-educated, and the first thing they teach you in speech class is enunciation and a cleaner, crisper sound. It’s a sign of education, breeding, and class. But in one simple sentence, I’m suddenly rethinking decades of teaching because I can imagine that sweet twang as she drawls my name and begs me to fuck her. I can feel the blood rushing to my cock.

  You can help me by wrapping those ruby-red lips around my shaft and humming Dixie, a naughty voice at the back of my head whispers.

  “What can I get you?” the bartender asks again. I swear, she doesn’t even look at Robbie, just me.

  “I’ll have a Glenfiddich double, neat,” Robbie says. From the corner of my eye, I can see he’s leaning forward, taking in the bartender’s lush curves. “And a Suicide Burger.”

  “Brave man,” the bartender says without even glancing at him.

  Instead, her whiskey eyes are locked with my baby blues. “And you?”

  “What’s the best vodka you have?” I ask, not trusting myself to look away from her.

  “I have a bottle of Snow Queen,” she says, biting her lip a little. “That good enough?

  “It’ll do. Snow Queen dry martini, dirty, with double olives.”

  “Coming right up,” she says as she gives a wink, which is innocent enough, and I’m sure she tosses them around all the time, but it succeeds in stirring my desire more.

  She walks toward the back wall, eyeing the upper shelf for the distinctive bottle of vodka, and then I watch, mesmerized as she lifts up to her toes and reaches overhead, her ass popping out. I can feel my cock hardening by the second as I stare at her ass, imagining her whole body arching like that as I plunge my cock deep inside her.

  “Fuck, she’s hot,” I whisper, startled when I realize I’ve said it out loud.

  Robbie raises an eyebrow at me, grinning at my hushed admission. “Enjoying the scenery?”

  I tear my eyes away from the bartender’s assets and give Robbie an even look. “Just an observation,” I lie through my teeth smoothly.

  Robbie chuckles. “Sure, sure.”

  I ignore him and look around the place. It has a honkytonk meets biker bar meets dance club sort of vibe to it . . . but maybe it’s that strange mix that lends it a unique charm.

  “So, have you been here before?” I ask casually, and Robbie shakes his head. “Then how’d you know about the food?”

  “Logan comes here a lot,” Robbie says, shrugging as the bartender comes back quickly with our drinks and sets them down in front of us.

  “We’ll have your burger up in about five minutes, handsome,” she says as Robbie tosses a couple of dollars on the counter for a tip. I dig in my pocket, tossing out two twenties.

  The bartender looks at me a second, then blushes slightly as she pockets the money in her apron. She gives me a little smile, and that tiny gift feels like a big win.

  “Thank you,” she finally whispers, so softly I almost read the words on her lips instead of hearing them. But I can imagine her sweet twang rolling over the syllables, and it’s sexy as hell.

  I barely hold back my groan. Fuck, I’m already ready to nut in my slacks. It’d be pretty fucking pathetic if it weren’t for the fact that I haven’t been laid in centuries.

  “You’re welcome,” I finally reply, letting my voice rumble as I get a look at the name tag pinned to her apron. I take a sip of my martini, enjoying it. “Madison.”

  I even love her name. She smiles fully when I say it, and I feel myself return the grin. “And you are, stranger? Ain’t seen you around here before.”

  “Scott,” I reply, wanting to offer my hand but knowing this isn’t quite the time. “And this is my friend, Robbie.”

  “Pleased to meet you both.” She flashes a brief smile at Robbie, but her eyes almost immediately come back to mine.

  Right where I want them.

  “Does that happen often here?” I ask, knowing she has customers waiting, but I need more of her time, her attention.

  “Hmm?” she asks, immediately turning her attention away from the other customers and back to me.

  I nod over to where the where the yelling woman had been sitting. “People getting . . . sloppy.”

  Emotions race across Madison’s face so fast I can’t place them all, but she seems to settle with sadness and it makes my heart ache to see her upset. “Sometimes. We occasionally have guys who get a little rowdy, but Ms. Crabtree is different. She’s not usually that over the top.” Madison’s eyes tick-tock from me to Robbie and back. “It’s really y’all’s first time here?”

  “It is. It’s our first night out in a long time, actually,” I reply. “Just wanted a few drinks after work to unwind, and Robbie heard good things about the grill here.”

  “Well I’m glad you chose Stella’s,” she says. It looks like she wants to say more, but some bastard at the end of the bar signals her. “Enjoy your drinks. Holler if you need anything.”

  My eyes follow her ass as she walks off, and Robbie turns to gawk at me. “Forty-dollar tip?”

  “What?” I deadpan. “It was a good vodka recommendation. Just tipping for a job well done.” Even I can hear the lie in my voice.

  “Why not make it a hundred next time?” he asks incredulously. “Now I know you have the hots for her.”

  I ignore his jest, my eyes on Madison as she serves customers along the bar. As I watch, I see other guys flirting with her, and my hand grips my drink a little harder each time. But while she talks back, there’s something guarded about the way she handles it. It’s like how she talked with Robbie, calling him handsome. It’s a practiced routine and there’s a line she’s drawn.

  It’s intriguing to see how she dances out of that flirtation and skates past leering looks, all the while maintaining an air of unawareness. She’s not playing dumb—in fact, she’s pretty skilled at manipulating the customers—but it’s subtle.

  Even so, I’ve never been one to share, and I want her flirtations, her smiles, her laughs for myself. She may not be mine, but I want to lay claim on her. Hell, I’d love to punch a couple of the guys down on the other side of the bar who are looking at her like a piece of meat.

  I’m shocked at the possessiveness I feel. I’ve known her for all of five minutes.

  Robbie interrupts my thoughts right before I can call Madison over again. “So what was your dad’s deal, anyway?” he asks. Someone from the kitchen puts Robbie’s plate down, and he gives the guy a big thanks. Turning to his burger, he picks it up and gets to work demolishing it.

  I’d avoided his questions on the way over, but I give in now, a little more loose-lipped from the vodka. We chat about work and my asshole of a dad for a few minutes, but my eyes track Madison’s every move. She looks at home here, completely in her element, which strikes me as odd for such a doll of a woman.

  Still, I can’t ignore the little voice in my head that’s telling me that a girl like her shouldn’t be working in a place like this. Not with all these drunk assholes gawking at her and thinking they’re worth her time. Newsflash, fellas . . . you’re not, but I sure as fuck am.

  Robbie’s story about some asshat in accounting has caught my attention for a moment, and when I turn my eyes back, Madison is leaning on the bar in front of me, her tits practically in my face as she smiles at the punchline of Robbie’s story. I really don’t know if she’s doing it on purpose or just doesn’t notice it, but damn if I’m not enjoying it.

  “Eavesdropping, huh?” I ask teasingly.

  “Not really,” she replies, “but your glass is empty. Should I set you up another?”

  I grin. “Why the hell not? Gotta be careful with the vodka though. It could get me in trouble.”

  Mad
ison smiles, taking my glass from me. “You look like a man who can handle trouble.”

  It’s flirty, and I fucking love her boldness. “I usually try to avoid trouble if I can help it, but I can handle myself when the situation warrants it.”

  Her eyes track across my body . . . from my hair to my face, along the width of my shoulders, down to my forearms where I’ve rolled up my sleeves, to my hands clutching the new drink she just sat down. “Yeah, I bet you could handle yourself.” Her voice is quiet, and it honestly sounds like she meant to think it, not say it. Louder, she says, “So, what do y’all do?”

  I open my mouth to tell her, mindful that I normally don’t open up to random women in bars. Or anyone, for that matter. Better to be safe. But before I can impress her with my fancy title, she interrupts.

  “Wait, let me guess. Luxury car salesman?”

  I give her a hard look. “Do I really look like I sell cars for a living?”

  She laughs. “No, not at all. I did at least say ‘luxury’, though, so don’t be offended.” She smirks, and I know she was only teasing me. “Obviously, some sort of businessman . . . banker, hedge fund manager, alphabet soup type? Am I getting close?”

  I grin back. “Closer than you’d think, although I have to ask . . . alphabet soup?”

  She smacks and holds up a finger as she runs down the lists, “You know, CEO, VP, R&D . . . stuff where your title is all letters. You’re that type, for sure.”

  Curious now, I ask, “And what makes me look like that type?”

  Her grin is full of devilment. “Well, other than the custom-made shirt and huge ass watch, you’ve got this whole air of ‘I’m important’. I bet you’re hell in the office . . . demanding, powerful, bossy.” Her list sounds like some of my best traits, and it sounds like she thinks so too.

  I’m about to continue our flirty back and forth when a voice from down the bar interrupts us. “Ay, bitch! Quit flirting with your next sugar daddy over there and bring that fine ass over here. I need that Jack ‘n Coke I ordered five minutes ago! Or if you ain’t gonna make my drink, at least come closer so I can look at those pretty titties and imagine—”

  I’m out of my seat before the jackass even has a chance to finish his full sentence. Grabbing him by the collar, I yank him off his stool, ignoring Robbie’s attempts to get me to stop. “Yo, Scott, relax. The last thing you need is a lawsuit—”

  “Apologize to the lady,” I growl, ignoring Robbie and jacking the guy against the bar. “Now.”

  Madison’s quick to jump to the man’s defense, her eyes going wide as she pleads with me. “It’s okay. You can let him go. There’s no need for that. He’s just drunk. I’ve heard it before, and this won’t be the last time either.”

  “No,” I reply quickly, increasing my pressure on the man's neck. “Apologize!”

  At first, he resists, and I think he might actually try to fight me. Shit, part of me even wants him to so I can take out the frustration I’ve been dealing with on him.

  Luckily for both of us, the man sags after resisting for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

  His apology isn’t at all sincere, and I'm ready to take it further before I look into Madison’s eyes, which are pleading with me to let it drop.

  In disgust, I yank the guy away from the bar and give him a push toward the door, hoping he’ll take the hint and leave. I stalk back to my stool and sit back down.

  A guy at the end of the bar raises his glass to me. “Thanks, man,” he slurs, obviously pretty damn drunk himself right now. “But next time, please try to keep your hands to yourself. He wasn’t hurting anyone, and Maddie sh-should’ve been making his drink but she was too busy talking to do her job pro . . . proply . . . properly.” Every other word has some lisp or odd emphasis on it, making him sound even more drunk.

  Yeah, and if you weren’t a drunken fool, you’d have done the same thing, I think, dismissing him immediately but noting that he called her ‘Maddie’.

  Getting to my seat, I see Madison walk over, appearing frazzled rather than relieved. She leans on the bar, but it’s not quite as close as before, and I recognize that she’s got her shield up again.

  “Hey, I really appreciate your doing that, but I’m fine, really. I’m used to that kind of talk,” she says while Robbie still gawks at me, shocked that I lost my trademark cool. “Thought you said you avoided trouble? You don’t need to add a bar fight to your night.”

  “You shouldn’t be used to that kind of talk. I don’t care how drunk these people get. No man should talk like that to a lady,” I reply evenly, looking her in her eyes. “There’s no excuse.”

  “Yes, I agree, but—” Madison begins to say, but I’m rolling and interrupt her.

  “Hell, you shouldn’t even be working here. You’re better than . . .” I seethe before stopping, shocked at the vehemence in my voice and how possessive and judgmental I sound once again.

  Damn, I haven’t had that much to drink, have I?

  This night is definitely a night of firsts. It’s the first time I’ve been this attracted to a random chick at first sight, and the first time I’ve lost control of my temper since I was a teenager.

  Madison’s eyes become flinty, and she looks even more guarded now. “Can’t argue with that. Most of these guys wouldn’t know how to treat a woman if an instruction manual fell into their laps,” she says, her voice becoming harder, louder with every word. “But I don’t need you or anyone to take up for me. I can handle myself. And I most certainly don’t need anyone telling me where I should be working.” She goes stiff and pushes away from the bar. “I hope you boys have a good night.”

  She walks off, leaving me stunned. I was just trying to help and to tell her that she shouldn’t have to put up with drunken assholes harassing her. Hell, in just the few minutes I’ve spent with her, I can tell she deserves a whole fucking lot better than that. It was supposed to be a compliment. Maybe I didn’t say it right . . . maybe because all my blood is in my cock instead of my brain right now?

  Robbie picks up the last bite of his burger to stuff it in his mouth before narrowing his eyes at me. “Damn, man, what was all that about? Was it really worth possibly getting your face rearranged?”

  I laugh, checking to see if Robbie’s serious or just being sarcastic. “Shit. I was about to introduce that guy to a couple of buddies of mine, Curb and Stomp.”

  Robbie chuckles. “Dude . . . this is so unlike you. Don’t get me wrong. I like seeing you a little loose for a change. But I’m telling you now . . . if some girl here makes eyes at me, I’m ditching your ass.”

  “Sounds like I’m stuck with you then,” I joke back.

  For the next half hour, we sit back and bullshit, intentionally avoiding both work and the incident with the drunk guy. I think Robbie is sticking to topics that won’t piss me off on purpose. He orders a couple more drinks, but I’ve been taking it slow, not because I’m worried about driving, since I’m not, but because I just don’t like losing control to something as stupid as alcohol. And I’ve done enough of that for tonight.

  I try to make eye contact when Madison comes by, but she ignores me, staying professional and nowhere near as engaging as before.

  Eventually, Robbie finds a couple of girls to flirt with, taking turns spinning them around the dance floor and keeping himself entertained. But I stay at the bar, sipping at one last martini with my eyes fixed on just one person.

  I know why I’m staying, and I’m glad Robbie’s found something, or someone, to take up his time. I’m determined to get in the last word with Maddie. A red-haired woman hollers out last call, and people start to empty out, although a few people try to get that one last drink in before they have to go.

  The woman seems exhausted, though, and I don’t think she’s got a lot of patience for the customers nursing their last beers. “Lord, I can’t stand on my feet a minute more,” she puffs, leaning against the bar as she talks to Madison. “Where’s Carl? I need him to drive me home.”


  “Don’t think that’s happening,” Madison says, pointing to Carl slumped over at the bar.

  “What will I ever do with this damn boy? How the hell am I gonna get home, especially when I need him to drive?” she complains.

  I’m about to offer an uber when the other waitress walks up, taking off her apron. Robbie’s eyes roam over her body again, and I’d say he’d have a shot if he hadn’t been grinding away on some other chick twenty minutes ago. Checking her shirt, I see a nametag . . . Tiffany.

  “Stella, I’ll take you two home,” she offers. “I already prepped for tomorrow, so there’s not much left to do. Maddie can close up tonight, right, babe?”

  Madison gives Tiffany a gee, thanks look and Tiffany winks back. I can tell these two are close friends.

  Stella raises her hands, wiping her forehead. “You’re so sweet, Tiffany. I really don’t know what I’d do without you girls.”

  Madison smiles at Stella, and I can sense her genuine care for the woman. “Okay, y’all go on and I’ll handle cleanup. Stella, you’ve had a lot to deal with tonight. Get on home and get your feet up.”

  “All right, let’s go, Big Momma,” Tiffany says to Stella before moving over to grab Carl under his left arm.

  “Okay, don’t forget to set the alarm and lock up,” Stella reminds Madison, then she looks our way. “We’re closed, boys. Like the man said, you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.”

  I toss back the last of my drink and look at Madison, waiting for her to say something. It’s like a contest of wills, who will speak first. Finally, she breaks, not looking happy about it. “Have a good night, gentlemen.”

  “You too, Maddie,” I reply, her name rolling off my tongue. I give her a small smile, hoping she’ll see the apology on my face.

  Madison gives me a soft look, and I think for a moment that she’s going to ask me to stay, but she waves goodbye instead. I go outside with Robbie, who looks like he’s got energy to burn, as usual. “It’s not too late to hit up some of the bars by the university,” he says. “You know those girls don’t start class until noon, so they’re up late.”