Chapter Four: Sophia

I walk out of the bathroom in a great mood, but I only get a few steps out before my good mood takes a one-way flight south. Regina is trying to hold a group of douchebags back from coming behind the bar. When I see the ringleader I instantly know what it’s about. They are the typical flashy dicks that make our evenings working a nightmare. I groan because I know this is going to be one confrontation I’m not going to get out of. I square my shoulders and move forward determined to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“What the hell are you doing kicking my girlfriend out? I basically float this place.” The arrogant guy wearing an expensive suit with the ugliest yellow tie I have ever seen in my life rages at me. The overwhelming urge to gag is almost too much for me to handle. He smells like he bathed in a musky cologne. My burning nose twitches and I wipe away the tears smudging my make-up job from before.

The D list socialite’s even less well-known boyfriend has found his way into my face. He’s slurring his words so I know he’s incredibly drunk and not thinking clearly. The alcohol on his breath makes me gag. I’m also pretty certain I’m going to get drunk just by the noxious fumes. I look around to see if Maria is anywhere nearby but no luck. Usually, she can calm these situations down by leading them back to the VIP room and popping some bottles. She’s got that owner’s touch.

I heave a sigh. “She got into a fight and clocked me when I tried to break it up.” I hold up my hand when he tries to cut me off to defend socialite Barbie. “You know the rules. Fighting is not tolerated in any form, and before you go on and give me some lame ass excuse about how she didn’t mean too, let me stop you right there. She knew good and damn well what she was doing. She made eye contact with me before slugging.” He can deny it until the cows come home but the jerk knows it’s true and now he’s all about saving face.

“How dare you, you little bar bitch. You know who I am.” He growls this like its gospel and as if I should give a crap which I don’t.

He spits and sputters, his face turning a multitude of colors that range from purple to bright red. This isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with him. His dad is some famous designer, and as a result, the walking trust-fund brat thinks he deserves special treatment. I assume he has been spending the evening in the VIP section so why bimbo barbie was down with us simple peasants in the first place is beyond me.

“I didn’t kick you out, I kicked your girlfriend and the person she was fighting out. I didn’t call the cops, I simply took them outside.” It would be so much easier if Maria barred them from here but the money he spends is too good to give up, I’m guessing.

At one point he was trying to get part ownership of the bar for some venture he was doing. In the end Maria told him no but let him have the event in the bar.

He grabs my arm and pulls me towards him. I am blown away that he is touching me. A mixture of rage and shock bolts through me.

Before I have a chance to react, Thomas’s hand flashes around me and closes around the dude’s wrist. In one swift motion, he jerks the guy's arm around and pushes it up the center of his back in a hold I’ve seen cops do in order to subdue their criminals.

Okay, one, I had no clue that Thomas was even behind me and two, that was actually kind of hot. I push down my sudden urge to pounce on him and focus on the situation at hand. I make a mental note to give him some extra attention later as a little thank you.

“Dude, what the hell? Who do you think you are?” Trust fund whines.

At this point, we’ve drawn a crowd. There are cell phones held up everywhere and my stomach drops. I know this is somehow going to get escalated. Thomas doesn’t see the phones or if he does he doesn’t say anything. He pushes the guy hard towards the crowd, and all his buddies begin to puff up like roosters.

Seriously? These are a bunch of pansy-ass business dicks that wouldn’t know their fist from their butt. If I had to guess, I’d bet the nights tips that not a single one of them have ever been in a fight. They’re all wearing suits, which makes me snort. This is so not the kind of bar you wear a suit in especially an Armani. These guys look like they’ll cry getting a wrinkle in the fine Italian wool.

I watch as Thomas takes a slow step forward, getting into trust fund’s blotchy face. The muscles in Thomas’ cheek twitch angrily and at his sides, his hands curl into fists. Yep, he’s definitely gonna hit someone. I picture it and watch the guy go down in my mind’s eye. It would be so sweet, but not a good thing for Thomas at all.

Never in my life has anyone come to my defense like this. Not my co-workers, not the bouncers, no one and I’m at a loss for how to handle it let alone the attention it comes with. Flashing smartphones blind me for a second as I take in the crowd now focused one hundred percent on us.

“You don’t grab a lady like that, you understand me?” Thomas’ voice is low and gravely, but not the same kind of gravely it was five minutes ago in the bathroom. This tone is laced with a dangerous edge that carries a menacing threat, and for the first time since hooking up with him, I realize how much I don’t know about him. I’d wager I don’t know him at all.

“It’s like six against one, guy, are you serious,” the overconfident drunk says as he leers at Thomas. I look over to see he’s just grinning. I’ve never seen this side of him. Well, I’ve never seen anything but his sexual side, which can be a little aggressive. It makes sense he’d be itching to fight, but the last thing I want is for him to get hurt or for this to end up on the evening news.

Thomas cocks a brow at him and lowers his head just a notch. “What can I say? I like a challenge. Though, something tells me it won’t be much of a fight.” He isn’t full of false bravado, he’s serious and I know he can handle himself just fine.

I see the rage in the guy’s eyes as the comments hit his ears. I bite back a snicker. I should not laugh because this is serious and no matter what taunting, these drunk assholes are only going to escalate this further.

As Thomas and the spoiled prick stare each other down, the guys who had been raring to go when they thought this tool was just going to be in my face have started to back down. They might recognize Thomas, or they may just not want to fight him. He’s tall, at least six three and in great shape. The socialite’s boyfriend is a little thing, skinny and just a bit taller than I am, which is not saying much since I come in at barely five feet five.

I see my buddy from earlier, the guy who works for the tabloid smiling at me. He’s spotted us, and it causes me to groan. Awesome. Just what I freaking need right now. His eyes meet mine as if to say “Ah-ha. Caught ya!” I watch as he goes out of the bar. It’s probably a small amount of time before the paparazzi come in. We can’t stop them. It’s not like there’s a velvet rope for our bar. There should be. I decide that’s another thing I should tell Maria when the flashes of cameras rejoin the fray. I do not understand someone who lives their lives to invade other people’s privacy. That’s exactly what they’re doing.

“Thomas, I just saw a reporter. You need to go.” I say as I yell at him from the chaos. I realize I’m more worried about him than I am with the scene in front of me. My eyes scan the crowd. Where in the hell are our bouncers? Lazy dudes must be on a smoke break or something out back and I’m not tall enough to see over half the crowd trying to find their useless asses.

“I’m calling the police,” one of the pansy boys calls out.

Thomas stares down the group of guys, and for a moment, I think he’s really going to take on the entire group. I want to grab his arm and pull him back but I don’t think he’ll appreciate the gesture.

Finally, he backs away and takes off toward the back of the bar. He’s out of the door before anyone really knows what’s going on. I wonder what type of footage the crowd got on their phone as the first large camera flash hits me. Thomas is long gone but the reporter is back smiling at me so I know he’s at least having the photographer take pictures of me to write something. While the publicity will be great for the club, it won’t be that awesome for my job. Maria is awesome, but she’s also all business. She takes very little crap from anyone. I actually kind of admire her but not when it’s about to blow up in my face on the page six society pages and impact my job.

My eyes finally land on the bouncers, they strut up to us, all muscle and no neck. “Sorry,” one of them says. “There was an incident in the front lobby that needed to be taken care of.”

Sure, there was, I mutter. That slimy dude from before probably caused that to happen to keep tabs on the hot mess in here.

“What the hell? Is there a full moon tonight?”

He snickers and looks at the group of rich guys that are slowly trying to disappear into the crowd.

However, trust fund is still standing there--well, maybe he’s swaying a bit. Good, I hope he’s hurt both in the ego and his body.

“Is there a problem here,” one of the bouncers ask.

I look at the ringleader and arch my brow. “Well, is there?”

He scowls at me but seems to weigh his options. Finally, he shakes his head and I nod.

“Good. If you cause any more problems tonight then you and your whole entourage will be tossed on your ass by Bruno here,” I say as I attempt to rest my arm on the mountain-sized man beside me. Instead, I settle for a pat on his overly muscled chest. “Are we clear?”

The dude grunts something that vaguely sounded like bitch before slinking away. I turn and look up at Bruno. “Keep an eye on them and let Gary know too.”

He nods and then hulk's back over to where he can keep a clear eye on the group. I shouldn’t be so hard on the bouncers. They do have a lot to deal with every night.

This night has turned into a nightmare. I press my fingers to my temples and massage small circles. And this night was going so well right up until the catfight and then this. Regina puts her arm around me as I make my way back to the bar.

“You’re going to be famous now. I can’t believe that Price dick put his hands on you.”

“Price? That’s his name. I just call him the little prick. Isn’t his dad or mom like a watch designer or some shit?” I ask as I smile at a guy holding up a finger for a beer. I go over and give him one.

“No, his mother inherited all that money from her father who was like the sausage king or something. He’s old money, nothing new. He was in a watch commercial, maybe that’s what you’re thinking of,” Regina said. Okay, so maybe I was wrong about how trust fund prick got his money. Nevertheless, he’s still a douche and now because of him, I may find myself in the sleazy tabloids.

“Just freaking fantastic,” I grumble as I pour shots of tequila. I’d give anything for this night to be over.