Neither is a particularly original pickup line, but nobody said the clones who swarm the Bay every year were original.
“Well?” the blonde presses, and I realize there’s no cheesy line in store for me.
“Bar closes at two,” I answer easily.
“Hang out with us after you get off,” she urges. She and her friend both have shiny hair, perfect bodies, and skin glowing from a day spent in the sun. They’re cute, but I’m not in the mood for what they’re offering.
“Sorry. Can’t,” I answer. “But you should keep an eye out for someone who looks exactly like me. My twin brother is around here somewhere.” I wave a hand toward the throng of bodies packing the place like sardines in a tin. “I’m sure he’d love to entertain you.”
I say it mostly because I know it’ll annoy Evan. Though on the other hand, maybe he’ll thank me. He might despise the clones, but he doesn’t seem to mind the rich princesses when they’re naked. I swear the dude’s trying to sleep his way through this town. He claims he’s “bored.” I let him believe that I believe him.
“Omigod, there’s two of you?” Almost immediately, both girls become starry-eyed.
I grab a glass and shovel some ice cubes into it. “Yup. His name’s Evan,” I add helpfully. “If you find him, tell him Cooper sent you.”
When they finally wander off, fruity cocktails in hand, I breathe a sigh of relief.
Bartending is such a crap gig.
I push a whiskey on the rocks toward the skinny dude who ordered it, take the cash he hands me. I run a hand through my hair and draw a breath before going to the next customer. For most of the night, the drunken masses manage to keep their shit together. Daryl, the doorman, kicks out anyone he suspects might projectile vomit, while Lenny and I smack away any idiots who get it into their heads to reach behind the bar.
I keep an eye on Steph and the other female servers as they work the crowd. Steph’s got a table full of Garnet dudes salivating over her. She’s smiling, but I know that look. When she tries to walk away, one of them grabs her around the waist.
My eyes narrow. It’s the same guy I took for six bills.
I’m damn near over the bar when her eyes find mine. As if she knows what’s about to happen, she shakes her head. Then she slyly disentwines herself from the handsy prick and comes back to the waitress stand.
“Want me to toss ’em?” I ask her.
“Nah. I can handle them.”
“I know. But you don’t have to. I pulled six hundred from those dumbasses. I’ll split it with you. Let me get rid of them.”
“It’s all good. Just get me three Coronas and two Jäg—”
“Do not even say it.” My whole body winces at the word. If I never have to smell that vile black shit ever again, it’ll be too soon. “I gotta get some nose plugs.”
“It’s like you’ve got shellshock,” she laughs, watching me suffer through these pours.
“I should be getting hazard pay.” I finish up and push the drinks to her. “Seriously, though, if those guys can’t keep their hands to themselves, I’m coming over there.”
“I’m fine. But, man, I wish they’d just leave. I don’t know who’s worse tonight—Mr. Grabby Hands, or that senior on the patio who’s crying about his daddy reneging on his promise to buy him a yacht for graduation.”
I snicker.
Steph waltzes off with a sigh and a full tray of drinks.
For the better part of an hour, I don’t look up. The room is so dense the faces blur into a smudge of flesh, and all I do is pour and slide credit cards until I’m in a trance, barely aware of my actions.
The next time I check on Steph, it’s to see Richie Rich trying to persuade her to dance with him. She’s like a boxer, bobbing and weaving to get away from the dude. I can’t make out her exact words, but it’s easy to guess—I’m working, please let me get back to work, I can’t dance with you, I’m working.
She’s trying to remain courteous, but her blazing eyes tell me she’s fed up.
“Len,” I call, nodding toward the unfolding scene. “Gimme a sec.”
He nods back. We take care of our own.
I stride over, knowing I pose a menacing picture. I’m six two, haven’t shaved in days, and my hair could use a trim. Hopefully I look menacing enough to deter these bros from doing something stupid.
“Everything okay here?” I inquire when I reach the group. My tone says I know it’s not and he’d better stop or I’m going to toss him out on his ass.
“Fuck off, carnie,” one of them cracks.
The insult rolls right off me. I’m used to it.
I raise a brow. “I’m not leaving unless my colleague tells me to go.” I look pointedly at Richie Rich’s hand, which is latched onto Steph’s arm. “She didn’t sign up to get groped by rich boys.”
The guy has the sense to remove his hand. Steph uses the opportunity to clamber to my side.
“See? All good.” He sneers at me. “No distressed damsels requiring rescue.”
“Make sure to keep it that way.” I punctuate the warning with a sneer of my own. “And keep your hands to yourself.”
Steph and I are about to head off when a glass breaks.
No matter how loud a room, how full to the brim with sound-dampening bodies, a glass shatters on the floor and, in the immediate seconds after, you can hear a hummingbird’s wings flutter two counties away.
Every head turns. One of Richie Rich’s buddies, who’d dropped the glass, is blinking innocently when I meet his gaze.
“Oops,” he says.
Laughter and applause crush the momentary silence. Then conversation bubbles up again, and the collective attention of the bar returns to its previously intoxicated amusements.
“Fuck’s sake,” Steph mutters under her breath. “Go back to the bar, Coop. I got this.”
She marches off with an annoyed frown, while the douche crew dismisses us from their holy presence and proceeds to chat loudly and laugh amongst themselves.
“All good?” Lenny asks when I return.
“Not sure.”
I glance back toward the group, frowning when I notice their leader is no longer with them. Where the hell did he go?
“No,” I say slowly. “I don’t think it’s good. Give me another sec.”
Once again, I leave Lenny to man the battle stations alone while I duck out from behind the bar to find Steph. I head toward the back, figuring she went for a broom to sweep up the glass.
That’s when I hear, “Get off me!”
I throw myself around the corner, my jaw tightening when I spot Richie Rich’s pastel polo. He has Steph cornered at the end of the short, narrow hall where the supply closet is located. When she tries to dip around him, he steps in her way, grabbing her wrist. His other hand slides downward and attempts to cup her ass.
Nah, screw this.
I charge forward and yank him by his collar. A second later, I lay his ass flat out on the sticky floor.
“Get out,” I growl.
“Cooper.” Steph grabs me, even as gratitude shines in her eyes. I know she appreciates the save.
I shake her off, because enough is enough. “Get up and leave,” I tell the startled punk.