The bar is slammed. Not shocked, though. It’s Thursday, and as my black tank top states, it’s #ThirstyThursday. So, it’s gonna be a long night.
People love reasons to drink. Manic Monday, Tequila Tuesday, Wine Wednesday… I simply love any reason to serve them. I’m sure there are people out there who get satisfaction out of landing big contracts, closing deals, matching their bra and underwear. I get satisfaction out of making people happy with my excellent bartending skills. I didn’t plan on this being my life. I did at one point want more for myself. But life just sucks sometimes. I used to have a teacher in high school tell me all the time how life wasn’t fair. And things won’t always be handed to me. I know she was just referring to the cliff notes I always took from Jenny Buckner in English class, but in a way, she was right. No one handed me anything in that respect, and life was completely unfair.
I landed at Anchor bar on a whim. I was at school and struggling. I knew I had to find a way and fast to get some cash or I wasn’t going to be able to pay for my upcoming semester. I had about seven dollars in my pocket, even less in my bank account, and a shit-ton of regrets.
I walked in, sat at the bar, and placed my seven dollars on top, telling the bartender to serve me until I ran out of money. The bartender looked at me strange, then even stranger seeing I only had seven bucks, knowing it would barely get me a beer. A draft beer was placed in front of me, and I drank the last of my money away. By the third beer, I knew the bartender was feeling sorry for me. That, or he also couldn’t count and we were going to have an issue once it was time to settle the bill. By the fourth he asked me my name and my story. By the fifth he offered me a job.
That was almost seven years ago, and I never left. Dex didn’t care that I had no experience. He said he could tell I had everything else it took to be good behind the bar. We didn’t hook up right away. The sexual tension was there, that’s for sure, but for the first year, we just worked side by side. He insisted on training me personally, so we kept the same hours. Of course, I was a natural, so it didn’t take long, but our hours never changed. Our schedules would always align. And I guess when you spend so much time with one another, a hot badass, tattooed bartender, and, well myself, things happen. It first happened in his office, while closing up one night. We both had a few too many shots, and while we were counting cash in the back, one thing led to another and I was sprawled over his desk while he fucked the shit out of me.
I know. Vulgar. But that was Dex. He didn’t do things slow, or gentle. He was a biker, after all, so he was rough around the edges and all that jazz. I didn’t mind, though. I wasn’t looking for flowers and cuddly endearments. I liked what we had. It was simple. We didn’t talk about our feelings, or future. We just worked, kept each other sated, and that was that. It was when we tried taking that simplicity and making it complex that ruined us. Our fights at work got ugly and it was quit my job or take the sex out of the equation, because we weren’t working as a couple.
I serve up four drafts and another round of tequila shots for the group of guys who have settled camp in front of me the last couple of hours. They’ve been very generous with offering me shots, and I kindly accept. I know Dex isn’t happy about it, because he’s practically growling at me from the end of the bar. I turn, lifting my shot glass, and raise it to him with a smile. He’s been such a grump since I’ve been home, and I’m going to pin it as he really needs to get laid.
That shot does it, and he comes storming my way.
“Whoa, slow down, Dex—”
“In my office. Now.” He grabs at my arm, making it hard to keep up with him. “Randy, cover the bar for a sec, yeah?”
We pass Randy, who’s giving me the “what the fuck” look, and I just shrug.
Door shut, he spins me, pressing my back to the closed door.
“Geez, Dex, what’s your problem? It was just a shot.” I breathe.
“This isn’t about the damn shot. You’re different. Something’s going on with you.”
“Like what? For real, I’m cool. Maybe it’s you. Maybe you should go get laid. You look like you need it.”
“Unlike you?” I’m not sure if that is a question or a statement.
“Excuse me?”
“I know your look when you’re sated. When you’re riding the pleasure train. You’ve been fucking someone. I can tell.”
My eyes widen at his boldness. His body takes a step closer. “You with someone, Kat?” His eyes are intense, as he waits for an answer he looks like he doesn’t want to hear. I think about Chase. And all the video masturbating we have done the past couple of days. He has brought me to the highest, most powerful orgasms, and it’s me doing the heavy lifting. It’s his words, his requests, and his manly grunts of lust and pleasure that boil my arousal to a heated explosion of sensations.
“Dex, not that it’s any of your business, but no, I haven’t.”
Because technically…
“You with someone?”
Another question I can’t really answer. Am I? I can’t really answer. Yeah, I’m secretly with a model and we FaceTime and have virtual masturbating sessions like virtual goddamn rabbits. Kinda sounds strange. But take out the pleasure piece, and I couldn’t even say what we are. We definitely aren’t a couple. We really like each other. I would say I’d be harboring on like and really fucking like at this point, but I won’t let myself acknowledge those weird feelings, because this might be all we have. There are no plans for the future. I haven’t even signed on for the next installment for the book tour. But if I don’t, I don’t know when I would see Chase. His schedule is so busy, and I’m needed at the bar. I’m not sure that leaves time for a relationship outside of what we currently have.
When I look into Chase’s eyes, I see more than just a fling. More than just an adventurous time with a girl who would never fit in his real life. But when we disconnect and reality sets in, that thought wades. The age-old theory will always sit on the tip of my mind. People want what they can’t have. And Chase can surely have me. But can he still be happy in public? What if I’m a double cliché, it all being about the chase—no pun intended there. The need to taste test something that’s so wrong for you, but oh so good.
“No, Dex, I’m not. Seriously, I don’t need this harassment from you.” I lift my hands and push off him.
He willingly backs away, trying to read my expression. A few more seconds of our stare down, when he releases his visual hold on me.
“Sorry. You just seem different lately. Don’t know why.”
“Well, I’m still me. All boring parts of me,” I reply, shrugging my shoulders and smiling. That last shot may have put me over the buzz limit.
“I care about you. Just wanna be there for you, yeah?”
I smile at him strangely. “Yeah, Dex, I know, same here.” I step forward, wrapping my arms around his thick waist. I give him a hug, squeezing extra tightly, until he gives in, squeezing me back. “Thanks for always looking out for me, Dexie,” I joke, using the nickname I know he hates. He presses his arms around me tighter, and I feel his lips on the top of my head as he kisses my scalp.
Pulling away, he reaches for the door. “Okay. Get back out there. I’m not paying you to dick around.”
I laugh, skipping out as he smacks my ass. I pass by Randy, who still has that look on her face, and if I wasn’t feeling a little tequila high, I would have the same.
“Jesus Christ,” Dex barks behind me as I trip and drop all the empty bottles I was carrying to the garbage.
Jesus Christ is right. I don’t know how I got to this place, but somehow, I’m hammered. I told myself to lay off the freebie shots, but then I would be a rude bartender, and no one wants a rude bartender. It was after I was egged on by my college frat boy fan club to jump on the bar and pour tequila like a luge into their mouths. I made it to the third one before Dex ripped me from the bar, kicking the guys out. I thought it was super rude, but his speech on getting us shut down for alcohol poisoning outweighed my good bartender theory. He also said if I ever let another person take a shot out of my belly button he would fire me on the spot. I only did it after Randy did, but I didn’t see her getting chewed out.
The bar is finally closed and I’m trying to help clean, but it seems like I’m making more of a mess than cleaning.
“Sit the fuck down, Kat,” Dex orders as I stare at the mess. Maybe if I stare at it long enough I can teleport the bottles back onto my tray—
“Sit!” the angry bear roars, and I snap out of it and jump onto the bar. I miss it and slip. Thankfully, Dex, being so close, catches me.
“I should seriously fire you right now.”
“But you won’t because you love me,” I slur, wrapping my arms around his thick neck. His eyes cut into mine. As he walks us to the seating area I’m sure so he can dump me there.
“You’re sitting here until I’m done, then I’ll take your fucked-up ass home.”
“Thanks, Dex.” I smile, feeling my back pocket buzz.
“Dex, is that my butt buzzing or are you just happy to see me.”
Shaking his head at me, the annoyed grunt is evidence of how he feels right now. I reach for my pocket and grab for my phone. Chase’s name pops up, a FaceTime request calling through.
“Oh, goodie,” I chirp.
I swipe right to accept the call and wait with one eye open before I see Chase’s sexy face appear on my screen.
“Hey, you. Still at work?” The warmth of his smile heats me down below.
“Yep, just got done.” I’m in full smile mode, teeth and all. I probably look like an idiot.
Taking notice of my surroundings, he says, “Um, are you—”
“Kat, you can’t take this call later, babe?”
“Are you… Is someone carrying you?” Chase asks, confused. Maybe looking a little mad.
“Yup, it’s just Dex. It’s okay. He’s carrying me home.” I’m drunk, so I forget to finish the whole, gonna drop me off and leave me part of the sentence.
His brows knit together, his kind smile slowly fading.
“Is this the same guy who you let suck booze from your belly button?”
I laugh. “No.” Wait… “What?”
Chase blows out a sigh, his expression annoyed. “Yeah, the video that was posted on your fan page. Looked like you had an eventful night at work.” I don’t miss the anger in his tone.
“Wait, my fan page?”
“Jesus, Katie, how drunk are you? Yeah, you have a fan page. Someone posted a video of you tonight at your work.” He’s annoyed.
I’m shocked. I have a fan page?
“You know what, you look busy, and I’ll let you go.”
“Good idea,” Dex mumbles.
I jab him with my elbow.
“Wait, Chase, I’m not!”
“I’ll talk to you later.” And then he’s gone.
Dex doesn’t do much talking to me after that. And when I attempt to try calling Chase back he doesn’t answer. Dex drops me off at home and I don’t even have to bother telling him he can’t come in. Being angry with me for some reason, he barely stops the bike as I jump off. I make a mental note to apologize for getting drunk tomorrow and make it up to my apartment, let myself in, into my room, and pass out on my closet floor trying to pull my pants off.