THURSDAY NIGHTS CAN GO either way. Some are slow and others fast. I should’ve known there was gonna be trouble tonight the second she walked in as if she owned the goddamn place instead of me. She’s only been here a few days, but she already fits like she’s worked here ages. Not that I’ll ever tell her that.
Her hips swung from side to side; her smooth, tan skin glowed under the light. She wore the apron like a dress; it ended at the top of her toned thighs. Her hair swung around her like a cloud. She curled it, and the silky strands hung almost down to that itty-bitty waist. The bubble-gum pink lipstick she wore hit me like a punch to the gut.
She walked straight towards me. She was an arrow, and I was her target.
But she is far from the first to try to play this game with me. Breaking eye contact, I turned back to the cash register with a twenty in my hand, fingers jabbing the keys until the cash drawer spit open. I handed Big Jim his change. But he didn’t even notice as I placed the money in front of his drink. He was turned in his seat with his mouth hanging open staring at my new waitress like she was a piece of candy.
“Who is that?” He whistled through his teeth.
“Dev. Come here sugar and meet Big Jim,” I gesture like I don’t give a shit, but the tick I feel pulsing in my cheek betrays me as he leers at the rounded curves of her cleavage poppin’ out of a turquoise top.
She winks at him, holds out her hand but he picks her up in a bear hug instead, welcoming her to “the family.”
“Not yet. She needs to prove herself. It’s only her first week,” I tell Jim.
“Oh, I’ll prove myself all right,” she answers leaning an elbow on the bar, expecting my eyes to dip to her chest.
I don’t.
Her eyebrows raise slightly in surprise that I didn’t even take a peek at her ripe breasts spilling from her top.
“Tina will be in soon. She’ll show ya’ the supply closet in case we get slammed and run out of stock up front. The band is playing tonight, and we’re gonna get busy. Can you handle taking tables one through twelve and serving the bar orders from the kitchen?”
“Of course. If you even bothered to interview me, you’d know I waited at Hooters in downtown Chicago for four years.”
“Be careful sugar. The men in these parts won’t hesitate to take what you put in front of them. They’re as wild as the woods and just as rough; not city-slicking suits with manicured hands. You're sending out signals, girl. You better make damn sure ya’ know what you're about,” I finish slappin’ my hands down on the bar in front of her hoping to scare her good. I’m not worried about people getting fresh with her. I’m concerned about my own damn hands itching to feel her soft skin and my thumb dying to run across her lower lip. Shaking my head, I turn away and do something I haven’t done in months—drink on the job. My hands reach for the glass automatically, pouring a shot of Jack Daniels.
She grins, turning around to take a drink order. My hand grips the bar hard. Her jean shorts barely cover her butt, ending where her glutes and hamstrings meet leaving her long legs on display for everyone to see. Her calves are muscular and tight, the line from her quads visible from the side. Damn, she must lift weights too.
I raise the glass to my lips, swallowing hard. It goes down like fire in the back of my throat.
Hiring her was stupid. It was impulsive, and now I’m gonna pay the price thinkin’ about her in ways I shouldn’t. Shit, I was burning through women, riding like a demon in the dark, getting rich and high when she was still a speck in the stars. But now she’s standing right in front of me with eyes sayin’ things she can’t possibly mean. And if she does—I’m already lost and half-way to hell for thinkin’ about all the ways I could take her with me.
His eyes have me hypnotized as he warns me about the big, bad, dangerous men I’ve seen around town. “I can handle myself,” I answer with a shiver. But it’s not one of fear; it’s all anticipation. My last boyfriend, Jeff, was the gym teacher at the high school in Naperville where I worked.
After weeks of flirting in the hallways and hot looks across the teacher’s lounge lunch table, we hooked up, both being drunk at happy hour. Our first sloppy kiss turned into actual dates. Each was hotter than the next. My mouth watered the first time he peeled his shirt over his head, and my hand traced down his chiseled chest, his cut abs and inside his boxers. Jeff had it all—charm, golden looks and a body ripped like a cage fighter and between his legs he was well-endowed. I thought I had won the boyfriend lottery.
Jeff was sweet and treated me good.
Until he didn’t.
So, that leaves me at three. I’ve only had sex with three men; none of which were the strong woodsy type who took what they wanted.
I raise the pen to my lips, staring off in space as I wait for him to place the beers on my tray. The last time I was with Jeff was on our disastrous date on Valentine’s Day, when he asked me to move out.
I thought he might propose since we’d been together for years. But instead of getting engaged—I got dumped.
I’m too young to give up on the hope for finding the catch of a lifetime. I have a fleeting thought that I’m standing in front of one, but I have a feeling more than one woman tried to catch this shark. Sharks are dangerous, silently circling until they come up out of nowhere to rip you apart. There’s no wedding band on his finger, in fact, there’s no pale skin telling a story he ever wore one.
“Hello? Doll? You still with us?” Roger asks tapping me gently on the head.
“Yep. I was just replaying all my super ninja moves. Like I was saying, I can handle anyone who gets fresh with me.”
“Uh-huh,” he grunts. “If anyone gives you trouble, you come to Federico or me. He’s the big guy at the door. You haven’t met him yet since the weekdays have been slow. If anyone gets drunk and handsy with you, let him know.
“Roger, that.”
He grunts and nods over to the window outside the kitchen, “Food’s up. Get to work, doll.”
And I do. The regulars greet me like a long-lost friend. Tina the other waitress is nice, and before I know it, half my shift is gone. I work fast clearing tables and wiping them clean with a wet rag.
“What brings ya’ here darlin’?”
I spin around, heart pounding and my head tips back meeting the stranger’s intense gaze.
“I’m sorry. You startled me.”
“Didn’t mean to do that.”
“Smith? What in the hell are you doin’ here brotha?” Meat calls out.
I can’t hear his reply over the motorcade of bikes tearing into the lot. The engines roar to a stop and my mouth hangs open as twenty men enter the bar each hotter and more bad ass than the next.
“Hot damn. Get your ass in gear girl, because we just might make a month’s worth of tips tonight,” Tina informs me tugging down her top and applying a fresh coat of lip gloss.
“Who’s this?”
I try to act cool but damn these men are terrifying. Hot, but terrifying.
“Oh, that’s Devon. She’s the new girl. Whatcha drinkin’?” Tina asks flirting with them.
“Let’s break her in then. Get on the bar and lay flat.”
I look back and forth between the two unsmiling giants that pushed the glasses aside, expecting me to obey their command.
“Uh, I-uh…,” I stammer feeling unsure of myself for the first time in years.
“We’re just fuckin’ with you sugar,” the two men laugh.
“Oh yeah?” I answer hopping up and planting my butt down on the bar. Raising an eyebrow, my hand snakes behind me and grabs a bottle of Tequila. I place it next to me and grab the salt and lime, lift my shirt to prep for body shots. Just as I’m about to tip the bottle and pour, it’s yanked from my grasp.
“Get up,” Roger growls, yanking down my shirt. I try to sit up, feeling my cheeks burn. He pulls me off the bar. Toe-to-toe he leans down, the irises of his blue eyes burn like a spark of a flame before the fire ignites. “My office. NOW.”
I gulp, feeling like he’s swallowed me.
With a hanging head, I follow him as he raises the swing counter of the bar and walks out holding it up. I duck under his arm catching a whiff of laundry detergent and cigar smoke. It’s a weird combination but damn if it doesn’t affect me. I’ve dated too many men wearing suits and designer cologne, each more groomed and metro-sexual than the next. But Roger, he’s all man, with muscles and hands made strong by labor, not personal trainers. I felt the calluses covering his palms when he firmly grasped my arm.
His hand jerks the knob of his door, the tip of his boot kicks it open, and I feel like a kid entering the principal’s office.
He’s wound tight, refusing to look at me as he walks over to a wet bar and pours himself a drink. He raises it to his lips and pauses as if he just realized he’s holding a drink in his hands.
“Fuckin’ hell.” He slams the drink down uncaring that it spills over the rim onto the floor.
Unsure of what to do or say, I move over to a wall where a row of pictures hang. One, in particular, catches my eye; it’s of him, an older man with a breathing tube running through his nose and the same woman and man I saw in a pic out front. I snort, reading the banner hanging above their heads, “Happy 60th Birthday Meat.”
A waft of cigar smoke reaches me, and I turn finding him seated behind his desk, with snakeskin boots crossed at the ankles on top of a pile of papers. The cigar rests between two fingers as he puffs out the smoke in rings.
“I’ll pierce my left tit if you’re a day over fifty.”
His eyes drop to my breasts, and he smirks, “Don’t make that bet darlin’.”
“No way. I don’t believe it.”
“I’m not sixty,” he shrugs. “They wouldn’t let me pledge to Creed unless I was twenty-one.”
“So, you lied?”
“Yep.”
“How old were you?”
His chair creaks as he shifts his weight, placing his feet back on the floor. “Doesn’t matter.”
It does to me.
“Are you firing me?”
He assesses me, flicking the ash from his cigar in a tray. “Nope. But if you pull a stunt like that, I’ll make you wash dishes for a week.”
My shoulders straighten. “I’d quit first.”
He ignores my statement. “All kinds of shit used to go down on this premises. I won’t lie, even I did some stupid shit. But times are changing. Families come in here on occasion, in case you haven’t noticed—my cooking is damn good. If you want to flirt, make extra tips—fine but don’t pull shit like that again unless it's after midnight on a weekend. Ya’ hear me?”
“Yes, sir.”
He grunts. “Get back out there and take care of my men.”
A few quick taps sound on his door. “Come in,” Roger barks.
The man he called Smith stands in the doorway. He looks right at me, with cold silver eyes. Damn, the man looks like he could be a ruthless killer, snapping my neck with one flick of his wrist. He’s tall too, well over six feet. His hair’s shaved close to his head, and his leather cut can’t hide the bulging muscles underneath.
“Stop eye fucking Smith and get your sweet butt back on the floor. You know how to make drinks, Dev?”
I don’t stop looking at Smith. “Sure do.”
Smith moves aside as I brush past him, the door closes firmly behind me, and all the air in my lungs comes out with a whoosh.
“What was that about?”
“Nothing. Just personnel shit.”
“Uh huh,” Smith replies not believin’ a word.
“Fuck!” I curse, picking up my drink and pouring one for Smith.
“Salúd, brotha. I wasn’t expectin’ you this week.”
Smith sits across from me and takes the drink, “We’ve got trouble.”
“We?”
“Yep. Zach’s brother is outta jail. He wants vengeance.”
“Shit.” I run a hand through my hair, a million thoughts running through my head. I always knew this day might come, and started prepping for it the day my best friend Colin Flynn shot the ex-Prez of Creed dead in his kitchen several years back.
“You got a tail on him?”
“We did. He slipped it last week.”
“Where was he?”
“San Diego.”
“Shit. He’s heading north.”
“That’s what we’re thinking. Duke’s not taking any chances with Shanna. He packed her up and took her to the cabin with a few men for protection.”
I snuff out my cigar, “If I had my way I would’ve taken Zach out to the woods for the animals to scavenge. But Duke didn’t. Do you remember how he wanted to do shit by the book?”
“Yep. Gregory, Zach’s brother, knows you were involved that night. It was in the police report. I’ll leave a few men here to cover you until we can flush him out.”
“Good. Leave one by the back door and another to help Federico out front.”
“Do you need a man for your house?”
“Fuck no. I can handle myself.”
“Just checkin’ brother… you know being over sixty and all.”
“Fuck you. You know I ain’t sixty.”
Smith grins like a mother fucker. “She’s hot as fuck, eh?”
“My girls are off-limits.”
“Your girls… ?”
“This is my place of business. My employees ain’t club skanks.”
“Noted.”
“We good here?” Smith asks getting up.
“Not quite. I need one more thing. I need a man to tail Devon. I need to know what the hell that girl is up to. No one moves from a suburb in Chicago to the backwoods of Oregon without a damn good reason, and I’m gonna find out what hers is.”
“Done.”
“You got big boots to fill Smith. Duke straightened out the club. Keep it that way. Don’t let this shit with Zach’s brother go south.”
“I don’t intend to.”
He gets up and walks out shutting the door softly behind him.
I finish my drink, pissed as hell I let that girl get in my head. I stare at my empty glass shaking my head at how I broke my self-imposed rule not to drink on the clock. But that damn girl, Devon, had me seeing red when I looked over my shoulder and saw her spread out on my bar, offering herself up for the men to enjoy.
Hell no.
If I can’t enjoy her, no one will.
My fists clench. I don’t even know her goddamn story and I sure as shit know better than to fuck an employee but there’s something about her that draws me in. But I’m slammin’ the door on that shit. I’ve never made a fool out of myself over a woman and I sure as hell won’t start now.
Shit. She probably only flirted with me ‘cause I’m her boss. A woman like her could have any man she wanted. Hell, maybe she’ll go home tonight with one of the men that rode out with Smith from California.
I wouldn’t give a shit.
Yeah, right.