Nightshade, page 7
“It’s my night off.” I balanced my phone between my shoulder and ear as I tossed my duffel bag into the backseat.
“Little Red, I need you. Sara can’t make it and Garrett and I are unloading the truck. Even if it’s slower than the other days of the week, Bayleigh can’t man the bar and the tables at the same time.”
“What about bitch-server?” I asked and got into my driver’s seat, started the car.
“Really?” Marcus’ speech broke while Bluetooth connected. “...has a name. It’s embroidered over her chest. She has her second job and can’t work Tuesdays.”
“I hate open mic night. What do I get in return?”
He sighed. “I’ll give you Valentine’s without having to find a replacement. If I have to work your shift myself, I will. Deal?”
Though the Hallmark holiday loomed a couple of weeks away, who could say no to that? The confusion swimming through my mind over the guys was enough without the added anchor of turning down gifts and invitations to go out with men I’d not trust to feed my mom’s cat.
“Deal,” I said. “We’ll shake on it when I get there.”
An hour later I rubbed a condensation ring away from the lacquered bar.
Tonight’s patrons buzzed low and laid back without touching the mic. We listened to the juke on free play and helped Marcus tick off inventory. For now, the biker I’d promised a drink to hadn’t shown, which was nice. Bayleigh and I kept up with orders as Garrett refilled coolers with cases he hauled from the back. A bar-back refilled the trays of cherries and wedges of limes, lemons, oranges. He tossed us the ugly cherries to snack on. I worked the stem of one in my mouth with a smile as I thought of men trying to impress us with their knots.
The toe of my sneaker tapped along to the crooning of Bad Moon Rising like a cheerful omen as Moonlight bubbled into my head while Marcus simultaneously asked about Blue Moon bottles. The iconic sound of CCR faded while I traded Fogerty’s voice for Jase’s.
Two men on my mind at the same time. On top of that, I hummed along, picking apart Jase’s and Rustin’s odd dynamic on the beach this morning. Were they competing for my attention?
“Both dogs chasing the same ball, but the one to catch it first can destroy it all by himself? What do you think?” I asked Bayleigh after the replay. She called the Blue Moon count to Marcus. He asked Garrett to bring a case. Bayleigh double-checked the fruit arrangement as the bar-back replaced the lids over them. I spat the knotted cherry stem into the trash.
“Meh. Jase’s crush on you is the worst kept secret in town,” Bayleigh said and checked the olive bin. “Whether you’re plain blind, or off-limits due to your code of ethics, I can’t figure out, so neither can he. I say keep him confused till he makes his intention obvious.” Nausea soured my gut. Was she right?
“And Rustin?” I asked. “It’s weird. Where does he fit in? And why?”
Marcus took the case of Blue Moon from Garrett and strode behind the bar. The bottles jostled as he set the box on the bar, then flexed his bulking bicep to make us laugh. “Rustin could be the final straw, or Taylor’s excuse,” he injected. “He’s close to making a move. I’d bet money on it. Seeing you all prettied up yesterday must’ve got the caveman going with all the competition. I keep trying to tell you, wearing heels might take you off the market.”
“Ha! Sir, you need to hush.”
Bayleigh and I shook our heads but smiled.
“True story. Pretty legs in a set of heels, a little skin—”
”A lotta skin.” I called his crap with a dry edge. He never paused.
“—will make a man ignore a butter face all day long. And if she is a butter face, that vanishes with each passing shot. It’s a win-win for the bar.”
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” I told him.
His turn to chuckle. “You’ll never have that problem, Little Red, so my advice is maybe leave your options open?”
“Thanks, but what’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Bayleigh intoned, “he knows Complicated Moonlight. And that even if you grow old and fat, you’ll be the opposite of a but-her-face. Your face will be pretty when everything else fades. You’ll be a butter body.” She cheesed and elbowed Marcus for holding out.
He studied her like WTF while I laughed but thanked her.
“Hold up. Complicated Moonlight?” Marcus asked.
“Yeah. The crap-calling song requestor from last night. The Bucs hat.” Buccaneers. A pirate. “Admit it, he requested that song for Kinsley, didn’t he? You’re doing the chummy guy thing where you watch out for your wing man, and he’s doing that thing where he pokes the girl with the stick, so she’ll smack him. You never forget the boy that pulls your hair and pokes ya.”
They all snickered as I shook my head in disapproval, but what a thrilling idea from a man who had decided I’d been too young on our first round in the ring!
Garrett weaseled in to tell Bayleigh to catch the order at the end of the bar. “You want the rapid low down in real guy speak?” he offered with a gleam in his eye. “Jase is a slut in love. Rustin is a redneck pervert. You two invent stupid names for patrons, and your TDH has come in sporadically over the years, but more often lately, enjoys Michelob or Captain and Coke with cherries and grenadine. But when you’re on-duty, Red Running Hood, he usually leaves or settles for cherries and Coke. He either wants to control himself around you or avoid you. Think he suspects you’re the wolf?”
“Garrett! You brat!” I cackled, but everything came to exhilarating life at the idea that he’d been under my nose all along. But why wait all this time to reignite our sparring match? “What’s his name?” I asked. Neither man spoke.
Garrett cleared his throat and glanced at Marcus for a beat. “I lied. TDH is here for Jase, and Jase is in love with him. Rustin is the jealous lover come from afar to stake his claim before all is lost forever to some childhood sweetheart.” His forearm covered his forehead like a damsel in distress, while I gaped at the terminology pertaining to my role. “Thus, ended the fantasy of every bartender working last night and praying they might be a big girl now. Don’t you remember about fifteen other women sitting right in front of the bar? You guys make this too easy. Ooh, speaking of TDH….” Garrett’s voice trailed with his eyes as they followed an exotic Latina model-walking toward the stage. He rubbed his hands together and wished us well with our PMS and angst. “Looks like she needs instructions for the mic. I’ll whip you up some chocolate martinis when I return.”
Bayleigh and I stared him down while Marcus called, “Take your time, Garrett. These things can be complicated!”
Garrett grinned over his shoulder. “You know it, boss.”
“See what I mean about them heels, girls?” Marcus jeered. We exchanged a look. Marcus was watching out for bros before hos, confirming her point.
When he asked about the liquor bottles, we gathered the almost empty liquor bottles and used them to assemble trays of dollar shots, then yanked the pour spouts. Marcus went to grab the new bottles.
Bayleigh proposed, “Next time they come in, I’m feeling the situation out. Pass the lime wedges?” I grabbed the bucket and pushed them her way. “Thank you.” She arranged them for the server who came to take the tray. “I’m hearing a lot about Jase and Rustin, but you’re suspiciously quiet about the one I’d go for, which makes me think you’d also go for Moonlight. It’s okay to admit, at least to me. What’s not to like? He’s mysterious, older, and not Jase.” She and Jase equaled two sluts of the same feather with little else in common and a sibling rivalry dynamic. “Or maybe you should pick the dude who serenades you while every other woman, besides me, envies you through your oblivion. Kind of feel bad. Jase’s certainly tortured himself long enough over you.”
“Ugh! I hate this!” I stammered. “He doesn’t serenade me. If you can’t even make up your mind, how can I be expected to? Forget it. Graduation. Internship. Track. Grades. My IQ is dropping by the day.”
“Right. That new internship you’re hoping for might be great when you get it, but can it make you—”
“Bayleigh. Pass the bonbons because I’m not listening to your sex talk. Jase is a fool if he makes a move. Same with Rustin. And if Moonlight is older, he’s worse than them. No one will ever stay faithful because they’ll be too busy cheating with hookers to be in a celibate relationship. Let’s not go there.”
“Au contraire, mademoiselle. An older one has the restraint that a younger guy doesn’t. If they’ve got their junk together, they can keep it together. Their wild oats are sown. They recognize there’s more to the savor rather than devouring a quick bite. Assuming you can stay celibate, he may not have as hard a time waiting….”
I chewed my lip in recollection of the things the pirate said to me before I left him in the parking garage. Hadn’t he implied something similar? Was that part of why I ought to stop dating little boys and opt for men? Jase and Rustin weren’t exactly boys anymore. Jase was almost thirty years old.
Before hope turned me into a girly idiot, I forced myself to remember there was a great divide between words and action. Jase had years of inaction to show, years where he even relegated me to his friend zone.
“Celibacy is for pussies who can’t close the deal,” a crass voice barbed. I turned to see the dreaded biker walk up to take a stool. Ugh.
He eyed the new bottle of Drambuie while I peeked at the time to see how many hours I’d have to endure his BS.
“You didn’t think I’d forget, did you? You promised me a drink.”
I hated drunks who retained memory.
While I set to work on his rusty nail, Bayleigh walked around the corner to, I assume, grab Marcus. The biker’s deceptively kind smile lifted from my butt to my reflection in the mirror. “You ever been on a motorcycle?”
I cocked an eyebrow. “No.”
“That singer have a bike?”
“Not that I know of,” I told him, trying not to show exasperation. I saw where this was headed. “Last time I checked, to join a pissing match, you have to be a shoo-in for the competition. Bikers aren’t my type. No offense.”
“I’m not offended.” Seemed true enough, but that gleam in his eyes soured my gut. “I can’t fault you for your inexperience. Like sex. How can you judge something you’ve never had? Who doesn’t appreciate the lure of a virgin? It’s like pay dirt. Especially to that singer.”
Ouch! Was that why Jase put me in the friend zone?
My cheeks stung and I over-poured his Drambuie like a nervous novice. He noticed and chuckled.
“Besides, you think you want celibacy, but you need a bad boy to keep the worse boys away. Your singer talks a big game, but he’s weak over you, and that makes him weak. Period. Bikers can be scary when they need to be.”
“Bikers can also be nice rather than creating a poor image for the rest,” I ground out and slammed his drink on the wood before him. “And you know nothing about the singer. Back out of my business or leave the bar.”
“Well, well, well….” He took the drink and gulped the entire thing in three swallows, then mimicked how I’d slammed the glass, making me flinch. “Maybe I was wrong.” A slow smile took over a sinister undercurrent I hadn’t spied till staring at him. “That weak singer could use someone like you to keep him safe.”
Safe from what? Last I checked, SEALs didn’t need the protection ….
I jumped and squealed as the bottle of Drambuie shattered near my feet.
“Damn. That was the only bottle in this shipment, Kins.” Marcus cursed and bent like he was cleaning the mess. I hadn’t even realized he’d walked behind me! When he stood, he had the neck of the broken bottle in one hand, his empty trash bag in another, but there was zero missing his threat. Bayleigh tossed the biker’s glass in the sink, then crossed her arms over her chest as she stared at the pervert.
“What a shame,” the biker said. He made a show of duck lips as he considered the liquor bottles. “Rusty nail ain’t my only drink. Good thing there’s a whole bar. How about…a Blue Moon. Bottle, not draft. Careful how you hold that, man. Looks like a threat.”
Marcus held his gaze and nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.” He shoved the shard inside the bag. Garrett picked that moment to come back. The pep in his step faltered somewhat when he took in everyone’s expressions and body language.
“You asked for a Blue Moon? Did I hear that right?” Garrett chimed, diffusing the static. “Bottles are still warm. I’m gonna tap the draft, okay? Hope you don’t mind plastic.”
“Yeah, that’s fine.” The biker grinned right at me like he knew something I didn’t.
What the hell?
“Kins, since it’s slow, you have bathroom duty,” Garrett told me while he placed an orange wedge on the cup. I nodded and grabbed the mop, wanting to throw the wood like a stake into this vampire’s heart.
In the bathroom, I glanced at my reflection to see my cheeks alight. Turning the tap, I scooped some cold water to pat against them, then stared back at myself to talk my nerves down.
Bayleigh came in a second later. Her hand soothed over my back as she searched my reflection. “Don’t listen to him. Not all men are whores. Your singer is weak for you, but I think Jase keeps that guy afraid to misbehave the way he’d like to, and that’s why he’s pissed.”
“Sometimes I really hate this job.”
“No, you don’t. You hate perverts. If every biker were like him, you could hate it, but you know most of them are good guys wanting to look dangerous in their leathers.” We both smiled, me reluctantly. There were some adorable men who came in feeling like a million bucks with their swaggers and their ol’ ladies beside them, even though we’d seen them two nights before in collared shirts discussing stocks and golf games. She was right. That part I did love. “Don’t let one jerk-off and his trashy gang ruin it for you.”
“Thanks, Bay. I don’t know why he rattled me.”
“We both know that Jase sleeping around bothers you. Unfortunately, it’s not hard to unsettle a good girl about something that would naturally upset her.” She scooped my hair over my right shoulder and bent to rest her chin on my left. Her blue eyes met mine in the mirror. “Jase isn’t the only option. Just for you, next time Moonlight comes in, I’m knocking that hat right off his head and unmasking him. Would you like that?”
I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks grew warm again as I nodded.
“I’m going to prove that it’s all shadow illusion. That he’s unattractive in the daylight hours. No booze. No shade. Male pattern baldness is a good reason for the cap. I feel much better now. Don’t you? Glad we had this talk.” She clapped her lips shut and smiled. I reached up and cupped her free cheek, then turned my head to kiss the other.
“Thanks for helping with Inferno. You’re a good friend, Bayleigh Blue.”
“Thanks. Just don’t tell anyone. My reputation will be ruined.” She moseyed to the door, pausing as she grabbed the handle. “At least if Moonlight’s unattractive, you’ll have an easier time narrowing a winner.”
“Pretty is as pretty does, Bayleigh. Looks aren’t everything.”
She chortled at the ridiculousness on her way out. I took a long look in the mirror, thinking of my morning. If he proved to be whom I’d suspected earlier, Bayleigh might knock me out of the way to take him on herself. Memories of his athleticism had me ready to run away to a convent to hide. What was that saying about corrupting a nun?
God, help me! I prayed and started mopping.
Chapter 9
KINSLEY
For the next two weeks, school poked along while not a single guy worth flirting with came into the bar. Fortunately, not an errant biker did either. Work was blissfully boring in that regard, but a dangerous restlessness had taken root. Existence in a classroom with my nose pressed to the glass lost some luster. Had there always been this many couples mingling around campus? Had I gotten so used to wanting to gag myself at their public displays of affection that I’d ignored them altogether?
The days passed in a blaze of dedication but lacked adventure. Didn’t matter if I blocked out Bayleigh’s sex talks. My mind was captive. Not by the act of sex, but the anticipation and subtle hope that a worthy partner may be riding over the horizon. Even the flavor of victory during meets needed spice. Nothing compared to the adrenaline rush I’d enjoyed the night Complicated Moonlight made a request of the man Bayleigh swore was serious competition for him.
Was he brazen enough to make another request, or would he turn out like the wussy guys I sat near in today’s Color Theory course? They tossed glances, but never met my eyes.
All little boys, love.
Mr. Miller, the one adjunct professor that demanded we call him by his last name, owned the only set of XY chromosomes in the place that made eye contact without shying away. A man. Also, the only professor who didn’t treat his students like petty subjects begging at his throne of wisdom and precious time. I got the impression he did this job as a hobby more than survival, which might explain his evident enjoyment versus those so pressed to pay the bills they exhausted themselves teaching almost twenty classes a semester.
The errand boy from the staff office wormed his way into our lecture, delivering flowers and gifts while the girls reacted like an ATM spewed free cash.
Crap! My throat dried. How had I forgotten Valentine’s Day? I hated vulnerability, and I hated that I had no reason to get roses from anyone but my father.
Still…
Shushing my inner girl, I refocused on the awful slides projected up front. The art professor’s poker face was worth the course. I didn’t need the class. Jase’s little sister, Tyndall Taylor, was an Interior Design major. To better understand my best friend, I’d opted to appraise ugly art in an attempt to see the same beauty she insisted was there. Wonder what she’d think of Miller and his slides of the most ridiculous canvases. I snorted to myself. Tyndall would be too mesmerized in checking Miller out to notice the slides.
Meanwhile, these minions attempted to impress him with feigned sophistication. Pathetic. He knew they were brown-nosing and exploited their ass-kissing like a bonus sociology lab. I rolled my eyes.
