And while he was an ass per usual outside my house this evening, I can’t deny that he came to my rescue. Even if he didn’t realize it, or it wasn’t his intention. But having one of the patrons track me down to my home is a major red flag and every single girl’s nightmare when she lives alone in a secluded forest. I left for work early to give myself time to pick up some pepper spray and a baseball bat I could leave by the front door.
Suddenly, Rap is at my side. There is a sharp edge about her. “Is he with you?” Her eyes drill holes into Ted’s head as he continues to drink his tea and survey the place with an appreciative look in his eye.
“No,” I burst out. Then I sigh. “Well, kind of. He’s my neighbor.”
Her brows lift for a moment. “The NFH?” Then her eyes narrow to slits as she keeps Ted in her sights. “How well do you know him?” For some reason that seems like a loaded question, like she’s referring to something specific.
The words catch in my throat. Not at all. Hardly.
Well, enough to know how to yank his chain ten ways from Sunday and that he’s helpful when he wants to be. That he smells like pine and something far more sensual that makes me tingle from my girly parts to my toes.
What comes out of my mouth is a strangled squeak.
“Right,” she says, still without turning to me. “I think I’m going to have a word with him.”
Rap rounds the bar, commanding every particle of air around her as she approaches Ted. He turns to her before she reaches him. Between the music and the dull roar of the crowd, I can’t hear what they are saying, but both wear serious expressions. She tilts her head to the side and Ted gets up, leaving his drink behind. He trails after her to her office.
Something squeezes around my heart. I weirdly feel like I somehow got him in trouble and now he has to go to the principal’s office.
Adjusting my bun of hair, I try to brush off the feeling. I didn’t do anything. I mean I technically invited him, but he didn’t have to come. And he certainly didn’t need to stay. But why does Rap care so much about him being here? Specifically, him?
Is it because I’ve carried on about my neighbor from hell for weeks and she thinks he’s a threat? A wave of shame washes over me. He’s not really that bad. I wouldn't leave him alone when he asked.
A couple minutes after Ted and Rap leave, I feel a strange buzz around my body. One by one, the men start to sidle up to my part of the bar again, that hungry look back in their eye.
Good. I don’t care. I can handle this.
I am capable. I am enough. And I don’t need Ted’s help.
Even as I internally repeat my mantra, I feel vulnerable and naked without him nearby.
I turn around and start to do some mid-shift restocking, leaving the drink orders to Snow and Cinder. It’s not long before Snow comes to me, a little breathless and flushed.
“I held them off as long as I could, but they are requesting you like they’ll die if you don’t get over there and pour their next drink.” She wipes some of the sweat off her brow. “You got one hell of a fan club, Goldie.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “Pretty soon, they’ll get matching jackets.”
“As long as they’re pink,” Cinder says as she sweeps by to grab a bottle of vodka.
“Real helpful,” I call after her.
Nerves racing with a jitteriness I can’t account for; I thank Snow then head back.
There are six of them now, shifting anxiously, hungry gleams intensifying in their eyes the closer I get. Lawrence sits on the far side, and while his constant presence weirds me out, he isn’t often in my face.
Pasting on a smile as I near the group of rabid jackals, I try to access my cheerful self. This ismyhouse, and no one can ruin work for me. It’s my happy place.
One of the men, Greg, makes to come around behind the bar. “Goldie, why don’t you teach me how to make a drink,” Greg’s slurred speech carries an overtly flirtatious undertone.
My hackles rise. While I’m a touchy-feely gal who doesn’t mind getting up close and personal, I loathe anyone who crosses that boundary behind the bar. It is a presumptuous move and instantly makes me feel claustrophobic. Cinder is there, getting him to step back across that invisible line.
Another one of the men gets my attention. “Goldie, I got this for you." He’s good-looking with middle eastern features, a thick black beard, and wears a white polo that complements his well moisturized bronze skin. David? Gods, there are way too many in my fan club now.
While he’s attractive, all the attention tonight has soured my mood.
Also, where is Ted? What is Rap doing with him and why is it taking so long?
The strange buzzing sensation of my skin jacks up to an uncomfortable level. Is my stress manifesting in even more fun new ways than just sleepwalking?
