Chapter One

 

Watching your ex-boyfriend walk through the door of your workplace with his new boyfriend in tow is a kick in the nuts, no matter how long the relationship’s been over. But watching said occur while you’re dressed in fairy wings and a leotard top? I knew the universe hated me, I just didn’t realize it hated me this much.

“Zach! Look alive.”

“Yeah, Barry, sorry.”

I’d been serving a martini but stopped mid-pour when I spotted Corey enter the club, and a bit spilled on the bar. “Sorry about that,” I told the customer as I wiped up. I gave her an extra sidecar with her martini to make up for my flightiness.

Of course my manager would have to be watching the one time I spaced out. I’d been working here three weeks and gotten along with Barry fine, but tonight, suddenly, he seemed to hate me. I wasn’t sure why I became the focus of his wrath. I’m an experienced bartender and based on my tips, I seem to be pretty good at it. But since I’d clocked in tonight, Barry had been barking at me like I was a rookie.

He’d hired me on the spot when I interviewed, seemed impressed with my résumé, and had even given me weekend shifts, so I couldn’t figure out what his sudden beef was. But maybe beef was the problem. Club Mythic served tapas rather than full meals, various themed appetizers for the drinking clientele, and they were all meat-based. I’d been on a plant-based diet for a year now, and had learned firsthand what a bitch it was trying to find food I could eat outside my own kitchen. Not that I went out to dinner much on my limited budget.

When I first started, I’d suggested to Barry that maybe they should consider putting some vegetarian items on their menu, even gave him some cool recipe ideas. After all, it was a forest-theme they were trying to pull off here: woods, trees, plants and shit. Barry didn’t see the parallel. “There are animals in the forest too,” he’d said. “People don’t leave their house on a Friday night to eat spinach.”

I regretted making the suggestion. Maybe he thought I was a cocky asshole now, the new guy coming in and giving him advice like I knew better. Seemed a stupid reason to dislike me, but it was all I could come up with.

I thought he’d disappeared into the back kitchen, but I was at the register when his bark came again. “Zach, new customers on your end, look alive.”

I had beautiful visions of knocking him down and smashing his face with the pan flute on the wall behind the register. Do I look alive now, Barry? Do I look alive?

“Zach? You hear me?”

“Yes, Barry, I will. I’m cashing out the last customer I served, as you can see.”

He glared. For a guy who managed an enchanted-forest-themed club with trees and centaur-waiters and purple mushroom fountains, Barry wasn’t very enchanting.

Jamil, the other bartender who was currently dressed like a flying horse, said Barry used to be a stiff, but had acquired a new identity since he bought a motorcycle at his new girlfriend’s suggestion. Barry was trying to be a tough guy now, but he wasn’t pulling it off. His short sandy hair was still too neatly styled, and the perfectly trimmed goatee wasn’t fooling anyone. Nor was the brand-new, unfaded black Harley Davidson tee shirt and leather boots. He looked like an accountant dressed as a biker for Halloween.

“Is there a problem, Zach?”

“Not if you get off my back and let me work.”

Barry’s eyes widened. He looked stunned that the guy wearing makeup and fairy wings dared to challenge him, and now he didn’t seem to know what to do.

Fuck it. Let him fire me. I could get a bartending job anywhere. While I’d been trying to steer clear of meat markets like the one I used to work at—and bartending in general—I’d fallen on desperate times and needed to make money. Club Mythic wasn’t exactly upscale with its tacky forest theme, but it wasn’t a gay bar or a pickup joint, and I hadn’t been asked to take my shirt off in the interview, which was a step up for me. The money was good because the place was always packed, but I wouldn’t cry about losing the job. My old manager at Immunity said I could come back and work there any time I wanted, but I was keeping that as a last resort, since that club had been the catalyst of my destruction a couple years ago.

But…if Barry fired me right now, I’d have an excuse to run out of here before my ex-boyfriend Corey got to see me in my ‘I’m still an epic failure’ costume. Bright side.

“I wasn’t trying to get on your case,” Barry said.

“You weren’t?”

Letting his hard-ass expression go, he sighed and leaned in. “The owner’s in the club tonight. I just want everything to be perfect. Okay?”

That was a relief. Maybe Barry didn’t suddenly hate me after all. He was just nervous and stressed out. “Got it,” I said. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it’s smooth sailing.”

“Thanks, Zach,” he said, then left me and disappeared out of the bar space. Guess I wasn’t fired just yet.

“He’s in a mood,” Jamil said as he rang up a drink order on the register.

“Yep. Sure is.”

Over Jamil’s winged shoulder I spotted Corey at the end of the bar with his boyfriend Angelo and another guy. They were sitting on my side which meant I’d have to serve them. Fuck. I really thought bad karma had finally had enough of boomeranging the shit out of me, but clearly it was just getting started. Of all people to see me like this, Corey was the pinnacle of my humiliation. Just thinking about Corey still gave me chills of embarrassment over the way things ended. But having to converse with him? Letting him see me bartending again, and dressed like this to boot?

It had been two years since we’d broken up, and I’d long since stopped having a panic attack every time I spotted a tall man with ash-blond hair in a crowd, only to breathe a sigh of relief when I realized it wasn’t him. But this time it was the real Corey, looking good as always. Corey would have to dive into a wood-chipper to look bad, and even then he’d likely leave an attractive pile of gore. And for some odd reason, he was dressed in a suit. Corey was a massage therapist and holistic healer, he was the king of ripped tee shirts and yoga pants. He never wore a suit.

His boyfriend Angelo was in a suit as well, but he was a shrink and that’s what he usually wore. A gorgeous Italian guy with spooky pale eyes, Angelo looked good with Corey, and it no longer gnawed at my gut to see them together. But I was still humiliated about the way I’d behaved when Corey and I were dating. My cheating was just the final straw in a drawn-out shit show where my obsession with him turned me into a lunatic.

Worse, Corey and I talked once cordially after the breakup when I did my brief apology tour, so he knew of my plans to go to school, to ‘better myself’ and get out of the booze and flesh business of working in clubs. If he saw me tonight, he’d ask about my life, and I’d have to tell him I’d dropped out of school and was now a hooch-slinging wood nymph—not that the last part wouldn’t be obvious on sight.

“Hey, Jamil. I’ve got the ex-boyfriend of all ex-boyfriends at the end of the bar there. The tall blond. Would you be willing to take it for me?”

Jamil looked down the bar. “Guy sitting with Duncan?”

“Who’s Duncan?”

“Older guy in the suit there.”

“Yeah. Would you mind serving them? It’s just super awkward for me.”

“Sure, if you’ll go see if my ladies down the end need another.”

“You’re awesome, thanks.”

Jamil went off to serve Corey and crew, and I decided he was my new best friend. I’d never seen Jamil without his brown skin dusted gold, and white feathered eyelashes glued on, because his shift started before mine so I’d never seen him get ready. I wondered what he’d look like all scrubbed up without the wings and makeup and silver horsetail hanging over his ass. I suspected Jamil was a hot guy beneath all his costumed silliness. His shimmery spandex butt looked pretty perky, but it was only a passing thought. My dogma these days was that sex was the enemy, and had been the key to all my problems looking back, so I was now a celibate hooch-slinging wood nymph.

I took care of Jamil’s customers, then glanced back down the bar, watching him pour Scotch for Corey and his happy-hour dates. I wasn’t sure who the third guy was, but he was also in a suit, maybe mid-forties, light brown hair. From what I could discern from a distance, the man wasn’t stupid-pretty like Corey and Angelo, but he filled out his suit jacket nicely and exuded confidence and elegance.

Ducking my head, I busied myself in Jamil’s section. The silly costume could work in my favor right now, because it meant Corey might not recognize me. I’d put on some weight and muscle, and my hair used to be a lot shorter. My longer hair went better with the costume anyway, which I was told was a wood nymph so I had to accept it. When I initially mentioned to the manager that I’d thought nymphs were typically female, Barry grumbled, ‘The owner makes up his own rules, just put it on.’ One night last week when my friend Sarah popped in for a drink, she said I looked like a glam rocker had a baby with a hobbit. I couldn’t argue with her.

Richelle, the assistant manager who helped us get suited up each night, liked to weave twigs through my dark brown mop like a crown, assuring me I was a masculine wood nymph as she painted my eyes with black kohl and green glitter. When I told her looking masculine wasn’t really a concern for me, she explained that some of the waiters had a problem with appearing too feminine, and urged her to make them a more manly dragonfly of elf or whatever. Only the male servers who had seniority got to wear the centaur getups, coveted by those whose worst nightmare was looking like a chick, but apparently were perfectly fine with being half-horse.

I found it ridiculous, and told Richelle to slap as much makeup on me as she wanted. If you’re gonna work at a place like this, notions of dignity and gender norms need to be left at the door. The ensemble that sheathed my body like a second skin right now was a brown and gold thing with strategic rips and fake leaves woven throughout, and my bare shoulders were dusted with the same gold paint as Jamil’s face.

So yeah, in my forest creature getup, I wasn’t really looking like the Zach that Corey used to fuck. But I was probably fooling myself. When you’ve been someone’s lover you recognize them, it’s in the little details. Even from all the way down the other end of the long bar, I could see Corey tapping his temple with his finger as he listened to the older guy talk, and knew he respected him, whoever he was. Corey had a lot of tells, and every blink, every twitch, every shrug was tattooed on my brain like a map, an instruction manual I used to access back when we were dating in order to read his moods.

But then I’d been the needy stalker bitch in the relationship, so it was unlikely Corey had studied my quirks as obsessively as I’d studied his. I had to risk it either way. I couldn’t hide in Jamil’s section all night, especially since he was coming my way.

“Okay, Zacharoonie, need my customers back now.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, wondering how long it would take Corey to need another Scotch, or if he’d leave after just one. I was overcome with dread suddenly at the thought of having to speak to him. Corey was famous for his biting humor and quick tongue, so I was surely in for a litany of clever barbs about my outfit at the very least.

I stopped to serve a customer a Minotaur Mead in a drinking horn, and when I turned from the cash register, Corey was staring right at me. Fuck.

“Zachary!”

I winced and tried to ignore him. But Corey started waving a cocktail napkin to get my attention. So much for being incognito. In his dark brown suit with perfectly styled blond hair, he was the antithesis to my ridiculous ensemble. Naturally he’d have to be looking extra-perfect for the occasion of running into me after so long. While I was an angry, glittery disaster.

Corey might have recognized me easily enough, but he still looked sufficiently astonished when I walked over, his gorgeous eyes taking in my appearance like he was trying to solve a puzzle. “Zach.” He blew out a breath. “Holy shit. You’re working here?”

“No, I just like to dress up like this and come down and hang out. Figured I’d serve drinks while I was here, just for fun.”

“Well that’s a…sarcastic response.”

“Did you need something?”

“I was trying to say hello, Zachary.”

I used to love when Corey called me Zachary, even when he was annoyed, but right now it grated on me, like he was speaking to a child. And I was acting like one. Trying to show how unaffected I was. “Hello, Corey.”

“Hello, Zach.” Corey rolled his eyes. “How long have you been working at Mythic?”

“Not long.”

Corey sipped his drink and I saw his eyes darting to my crown of twigs. To his credit, he didn’t laugh, even held a poker face. “You still in school?”

“Nope. Dropped out.”

Finally showing some expression, Corey scowled. “Why?”

“Because shit happens, Corey.”

Corey’s chin lifted, and he eyed me in a way that said he didn’t appreciate my attitude. “Well, you look great.”

“I look like a fucking asshole. Now do you need another drink or not?”

Angelo bowed his head and pretended to be super interested in his Scotch, but the forty-something guy smirked at me like I was terribly amusing. He had beautiful eyes, large and slightly sloped with long lashes. I’d only ever seen that odd eye color on Corey, a mix of gray and green that reflected the light. But there was something mischievous about the man’s expression as he looked me over. I usually avoided older men who looked at me that way, because they were either getting ready to ridicule me or wanted to pay me for something other than a drink.

But this guy remained silent, and for some reason he didn’t ping my creepy radar. I found him kind of charming, even though he’d yet to say a word. He was polished and sophisticated in his dark blue suit, but the open collar sans tie showed a thin silver chain around his neck, and he wore a Celtic knot thumb-ring. His light brown hair was neat and shiny but a little too long for the average businessman, so despite the attire, there was an edge about him that counteracted any perceived stuffiness.

Something about him kept drawing my eye. I liked his face, liked the barely visible gray flecks in his light brown hair, the flushed healthiness of his cheeks, even the little crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. I especially liked the amused smirk he was giving me—it made me want to smile back and be let in on the joke, though I was not yet sure if he was laughing at me or with me.

“You know what, Zach?” Corey said. “I think I am gonna be here awhile after all. I would like another drink. Thank you.” He held up his glass, grinning slyly.

I sighed and glared at him. I’d done this to myself. Corey never let someone get away with being a dick to him, and I was being a dick. So now he was going to force me to stick around and serve him. “Fine,” I said. “Coming right up.” Angelo was still avoiding my eyes, so I looked at the older guy instead. “You?”

“I’d love one,” he said, his voice silky smooth. “Thank you.”

“Angelo?”

Angelo finally glanced up. “I’m good right now Zach, thanks.”

As I moved away to pour two more, I heard the older man ask softly, “Who is that creature?”

People always think bartenders can’t hear them, but after working in noisy crowds so long, I’d developed satellite dish ears.

“You don’t know him?” Corey asked.

“I do not. He must be new.”

“It’s Zachary. My ex.”

“Oh. Well, that’s interesting.”

“You have no idea.”

“Corey,” Angelo said. “Don’t give Zach shit.”

“I wasn’t trying to! He’s being rude to me.”

I turned back in time to catch them all staring at me, and set the drinks down, managing not to spill anything. “Can I get you anything else right now? Want to see a menu?”

“I’d like you to stop acting like a tool and talk to us for a minute,” Corey said. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“You look different,” Angelo said, finally finding his voice.

“Most people look different in glitter makeup,” I said.

Angelo gave me his patient psychiatrist stare. “That aside, you look well. Healthy.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you still living at your mom’s?” Corey asked.

I sighed, trying to maintain my unaffected persona. He meant nothing disparaging by the question. I had been living with my mom while attending school. But it didn’t work out. “No. I’ve got a place.”

“Why did you quit school?” Corey asked. “And I thought you were trying to stay away from bartending.”

“What do you want me to say, Corey?”

Corey flinched at my tone. He was certainly used to fighting with me, but not me snapping at him. Our arguments used to largely entail him snapping at me while I begged and whined and pleaded for reassurance because he’d made me such an insecure basket-case.

“Why you being so defensive, Zach? I was just asking what you’ve been up to. Christ! Gimme a break. It’s not like I did anything bad to you.”

That was true. He hadn’t done anything bad to me. But I’d done bad things to him, and that was why I was defensive. That, and the fact that I felt like a big giant failure right now. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with bartending. I made a lot of money doing it. It was that bartending at my old job had led to me being lured in by the wrong kind of people. One in particular had preyed on my insecurities and led me down a destructive path. A path that lost me not only my dignity, but the gorgeous blond man sitting in front of me.

But that part of my life was over, and this place was different. I doubted I could get in much trouble in a club where giant trees laughed and showered confetti leaves down on the clientele every hour on the hour.

“So?” Corey said. “It’s been a long time, Zach. Tell me what’s new.”

“This,” I said, gesturing to my ensemble and doing a little twirl. “Okay, Corey? I moved out of my mom’s because I was afraid I’d murder her or she’d murder me. I had to quit school because she wouldn’t pay for it anymore. So now I’m back serving drinks for a living, like I was before, except with…” I glanced down the bar at Jamil. “With fucking unicorns and shit.”

“Pegasus,” the older guy said.

I scowled at him. “What?”

He swirled his Scotch in the glass, then his pretty eyes lifted to mine. “Jamil is dressed as Pegasus, not a unicorn.”

“Okay, whatever, man. They’re both horses.”

“Zach,” Corey said, a warning in his voice. “This is my uncle Duncan. Duncan, this is Zachary. Sorry, I should have made introductions first.”

“Duncan Stengel,” he said, and extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

Corey’s uncle? Explained why the guy had those pretty, oddly-colored eyes. And probably explained why I felt strangely drawn to him even though he was in an age bracket I wouldn’t normally take notice of. He was a fucking Stengel, and clearly hotness ran in the family.

I shook his hand then glanced at Corey. “Thought all your relatives were in Long Island.”

“I’m from there, yes,” Duncan answered. “But moved to Boston some time ago.”

“Oh. Well, nice to meet you.”

I excused myself to tend to another customer. I’d been hoping I was done conversing with my ex, his boyfriend, and his uncle, but of course I had no luck. Angelo waved me over, wanting another drink.

“Why are you all dressed up?” I asked Corey as I set down Angelo’s drink. “Someone die?”

“Duncan took us to the opera this afternoon,” Corey said. “It’s Angelo’s birthday.”

“Oh. And you decided to come here after?” I chuckled. “Fancy.” I gestured around with my hand. The décor at Mythic was bizarre, indoor trees with sprawling branches lit with fairy lights, vines hanging from the ceiling, glowing mushroom fountains, and of course the costumed wait staff.

Corey eyed me seriously. “Zach—”

“Happy birthday, Angelo,” I said. “Guess the honeymoon’s over. No more nice romantic dinners for you. It’s shit food and fairy creatures, bro. Welcome to the comfort zone.”

Angelo gave me a small smile, but looked nervous.

“Zach,” Corey said. “Stop talking.”

“You said you wanted me to talk. So why’d you bring the birthday boy to this dump?”

Corey flinched, groaned, and downed the rest of his scotch.

One of the waitresses, a thin redhead dressed as a dragonfly, came by and greeted Duncan with a kiss on the cheek. “Hey, you!”

“Hello, love. Nice to see you.”

She moved off, and Duncan looked at me, that amused smirk back on his face. “I’m going to save you from yourself before you go on, Zachary,” he said. “I own Club Mythic. This dump is mine.”

My intestines churned, and for a moment I thought I was literally going to shit my leotard pants. “You…” I huffed a laugh. “I work for you?”

Duncan nodded. “I suppose you do.”

“Of course I do,” I mumbled, shaking my head. “The universe hates me that much.”

Duncan’s brow lifted. “Pardon?”

At that point, I completely gave up. Sighing, I rested my palms on the bar and leaned in to Duncan. “Okay, let’s get this over with. Am I fired?”

His smile widened. “Absolutely not.”

A relieved-sounding breath leaked out of Corey.

I was surprised, but decided not to look a gift Pegasus in the mouth. I straightened and gave Duncan a nod. “Then I’d better get back to work.”

I moved off and busied myself with other customers. My cheeks were hot and flushed with embarrassment. I’d just called Club Mythic a dump in front of the owner. And he hadn’t fired me. Maybe my luck was starting to change.

But then I focused on the other info I’d just received. I was now working for Corey’s uncle. Corey’s fucking uncle. It was bad enough that I couldn’t show my ex how successful and independent I’d become since our break-up, since I was obviously neither of those things. But now the money that put food on my table was being provided by a member of Corey Stengel’s family.

So no, my luck was not starting to change. It remained as shitty as ever.