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“Fuck,” someone hisses appreciatively and I snap straight back up, blushing furiously.
“Here.” I practically shove the water at the customer, refusing to meet his eye and then looking for the till. Wordlessly, Frost points to the small screen set into the glass bar top which I hadn’t noticed. I press it and it lights up, displaying the items for sale. I quickly tap the water symbol twice. Before I can figure out how to find the total, the guy leans forward and taps a wristband on the screen. It beeps, clears and goes dark again. Ah okay, it’s cashless. Kinda makes sense, there doesn’t look to be a lot of pockets between this crowd, and no-one looks to have a bag or purse on them. Awkward.
“Thanks,” he says, picking up the bottles and moving away. Holy crap he was wearing chaps! Assless chaps. Although, are there any other kind? I have no idea. But I can take a moment to admire the view.
“A-hem.”
A throat clearing brings me back, and I smile at the next customer – a busty woman this time, wearing flashing nipple tassels in the shape of—
“Are those Christmas trees?” I ask in disbelief.
“Yeah!” She beams at me. “Do you like them?”
“Erm, they’ve very festive. What can I get you?”
“Can I have a soda please?”
“Sure.” I spin on my heel once again and grab the first bottle of pop my hands land on – a cola. “Is this okay?”
“Perfect.”
I ring it up, she taps her wrist on the screen, this time flashing a more delicate wrist band than the one the ass chapsguy was wearing, but paying her bill in the same way before taking her drink and moving away.
And so the process repeats itself. I must serve two dozen people, easily, without stopping for breath, and it’s not until a tinkling bell rings out and everyone exits through the various doors that I have time to process several things. First, I’m sweating. Second, I didn’t serve a single alcoholic drink. Third, the people in this bar are wearing outfits stranger than mine. In comparison, mine’s positively conservative. No one batted an eyelid at me at all.
“What kind of bar is this?” I ask myself. Frost snorts and elbows his way past me to go and collect empties.
“How fucking green are you, Bambi? It’s not a bar, it’s a club.” His tone is acerbic and I flinch. I hate the assumption that because I’m small, young and blonde I must be inexperienced, naïve or innocent. If people knew what I’d been forced to endure living on the streets as a teen, they’d look at me differently.
“Bar, club, same difference. It’s still weird.” I shrug, trying not to let him rile me up.
It doesn’t work. He approaches me slowly, with the heavy, determined steps of someone who is used to going after what they want.
Closing the gap between us, I expect him to stop but he doesn’t, he just keeps on coming at me until I’m forced to back up against the bar and even then he presses his advantage, pinning me in place. He’s so close my nipples graze his bare chest, and they’ve suddenly decided that the heat has worn off and it’s cold again. It’s definitely the temperature and has nothing to do with the guy pressed against me who’s trying his best to intimidate me.
He leans forward, nuzzling my neck and my breath catches. He smells as cold and fresh as his attitude; silver lime, mimosa and cedar. It makes my knees weak. I will myself to remain still.I will not melt for this asshole, no matter how much my fucked up heart races like it just found its freaking soul mate or new fuck buddy or something.
“The kind where you need a safeword, Bambi.”
NORTH
“What do you mean she’s a new recruit?” I glare at Wint dragging my eyes away from the privacy glass that overlooks the main bar area. I’ve been watching the small blonde stranger work behind my bar for half an hour now and I’m unable to tear myself away from her for long.
Wint may be my best friend and business partner, but we always make hiring and firing decisions together. So imagine my surprise tonight when we’re halfway through the evening and some young blonde appears behind my icebar.
“Oh come off it, North. It’s no big deal. She found the old advert in the corner shop and called. You didn’t hear the desperation in her voice. I acted on impulse and offered her an interview.”
“When the hell was this?”
“Last night.”
“You interviewed her last night? Where?” I shake my head. Wint wasn’t at the club last night. He definitely didn’t bring her here. I would have known.
“I had a car bring her to the house. Fed her. Offered her a trial for tonight. She needs this.”
“Since when do you give a fuck?” Don’t get me wrong, we’re all for helping people here at the club, but Wint is usually thelastone of us to bring home a charity case. We don’t evenletwomen in our home. What the fuck was he thinking? And why can’t I tear my eyes away from her?
“You’ll see when you meet her.”
