“Then, you’ll have a working laptop and a few extra bills. What’s the harm, huh?” The innocence of his words, juxtaposed with the sharp line of his jaw and the waggling of eyebrows as women hung on his arm, didn’t compute at all. Still, my body heated like someone had poured gasoline on a fire.
“Be there tomorrow at six, Ladybug.”
My gut screamed that this was a bad idea, but something in my body was pulled to him. He wanted something more from me, and I wanted to find out what.
2
Cole
Have you ever seen the aftereffects of a car wreck? You wonder what brought about the crunched metal, the broken glass, and the shattered windshield.
Ladybug was my car wreck, and she had me curious as hell.
I wiped down our mahogany bar one last time at five past six and told my head day-shift waitress, Willow, that she could leave. Her shift was over, and the only reason she lingered was to flirt with me.
Most days, I’d indulge her and consider whether or not I wanted a quickie in the back. When a bundled-up woman barreled toward the door, her red hat was a dead giveaway that my car wreck had taken me up on my offer.
“Hi, I’m here to meet with …” She trailed off and quit talking to the host at the front entrance when she saw me. She pointed. “Him.”
Peter waved her through, and she practically waddled in, trussed up as she was in all of her cold-weather gear. The massive black winter coat fell just below her knees. Didn’t she know it was spring? When she peeled it off, I was left wondering exactly how many layers she still had on.
Her sweater underneath was green, but not much better than her ladybug one from yesterday. It swallowed her up so that customers wouldn’t be able to see the curves my waitresses and bartenders normally showed off. Her ripped jeans were worn out personally rather than by the manufacturer, but I could tell from them that she was much smaller than she wished to appear.
Then she yanked her hat off, and her dark shiny hair fell like a waterfall from it. She scrambled to get it up in a ponytail, like she hated people seeing anything remotely attractive about her.
She was pretty if you were into the innocent doe eyes and long dark hair with cherry-colored lips. She had that sweet, girl next door look going on. Except she didn’t try to call attention to it. Either way, I didn’t get the appeal, but I had prime women throwing themselves at me every day. Managing this bar afforded me a lot of perks. I enjoyed the ones who knew they had the curves, the sex appeal, and the confidence to do something with it.
She stood across the bar from me and laid her coat on one of the barstools. “Well, I’m here.”
“You working in that?” I pointed to the big green sweater hanging halfway down her thighs. “You’re going to be hot.”
“I’m fine.” She waved me off and scrunched her nose like my assessment of her outfit smelled like rotten food.
“Suit yourself.” I wasn’t going to argue as long as she could pick up what I was about to tell her. Waving her around the bar, I eyed the place that was basically my second home. We looked at the barstools, the booths, the wood floors, and the dim, low hanging chandeliers together. “Friday’s get busy. Peter mans the door to make sure we don’t go over capacity. We’ll have bouncers outside too.”
“I know.”
“You’ve been in here before?” I questioned.
“Just seen the lines outside in passing. I don’t live far.” She shrugged and then her chocolate-brown eyes wandered along the line of the lower bar where we kept our soda guns, sinks, racks of glasses for quick access. The beer taps were ready to go, the ice buckets filled, and the liquor stocked. “Looks like you got a nice set up, Cole.”
“It does the job.” I tried not to notice the hunger in her eyes, like she’d been behind a bar before.
Zoey intrigued me enough to offer her a temp job not because I really needed a waitress, but because we took in those who had more to their story. At Heathen’s, all of us were a little broken, and I liked to think that when we’re here, we’re a little more whole.
I hadn’t known how Zoey would react upon arriving, but that hunger in her eyes gave me a little hope. She wanted something out of the job other than money, and that made her the perfect fit.
“Let me show you where you’re stationed.” Pulling open the flip-top section of mahogany, I walked out from behind the bar to lead her through to the back. The L-shaped layout afforded privacy to those who wanted to dine away from those who just wanted to drink. It was an easy section to start with, one that wouldn’t overwhelm her. I pointed to the four tables in that area and a booth. “These will be yours. If someone sits in them, or if Peter gives you a head’s up that you got a table, you greet them, welcome them to Heathen’s. Our normal line is ‘Welcome to Heathen’s Bar. Once a heathen, always a heathen.’ Then give them a menu.”
“Then I ask if they’d like to start with a drink, right?” Her tone oozed condescension.
“Look at you. Already ahead of your training,” I threw back at her.
“If you don’t have a script, I can figure out how to wait them with just a notepad and paper. I’m guessing the hardest part is juggling the five when they all need something.”
I chuckled at how quick of a study she was. “I’ll admit, I was never a good multitasker, so I could never wait.”
She sighed. “Well, I guess we’re going to see if I can tonight.”
“I’ll get you a Heathen’s pin so everyone knows you work here. You can sit at the bar until you get a table. Have a drink if you want.”
“Oh, I don’t want a drink,” she said fast. “Well, not now at least.” A blush crept over her cheeks like she was embarrassed about it.
I added it to my list. Another dent in the car wreck that I wanted to know more about.
One of my night waitresses with fire-red hair and freckles all over bounced up to the bar. “Cole, I need two Long Islands for my table outside stat.” She leaned on the bar and pushed her cleavage together. The tight white Heathen’s top had been cut into a V-neck and did nothing to hide her curves.
I winked at her. “You got it, Red.”
She set her chin in one hand and glanced between me and Zoey. “This who’s helping me tonight?”
Zoey spoke up before I could. “Yup. I’m Zoey and who you’re stuck with. Blame your boss if you think I’m shit because he hired a waitress with no experience.”
I chuckled as I poured equal parts vodka, rum, tequila, triple sec, and gin into my shaker. Red appreciated honesty more than most of my waitresses and nodded at her. “Sounds good. Let me know if you need me to take a table or two.”
She whipped around, and her red ponytail bounced after her.
“She seems sort of nice,” Zoey murmured, surprised.
“Why wouldn’t she be?” I poured the liquor into two glasses filled with ice and topped it off with coke before I grabbed the lemon juice.
Zoey’s nose scrunched at me like it had earlier. “They’ll appreciate real lemons.”
I lifted a brow. “You don’t drink or waitress, but know a Long Island?”