“I thought we said no mixing business with pleasure.”
“Girl, not for me. But we need to get you laid. How long has it been?”Why is everyone so concerned with my sex life?
“Too damn long,” Jace answers. He isn’t wrong. Have I been too picky? No. Definitely not. Have you seen the men who come in here? One thing I’ve learned from the Manhattan Murders Podcast is never pick up just any strange man from a bar.I wonder if that still applies if I work at one.
Jace looks over Janice’s shoulder. His eyes now look similar to hers. “Oh damn.” He clutches his cheaply made costume pearls that hang around his black T-shirt.
“What is it?” I ask. This time, sounding too eager. I can hear my curiosity rising.
“Honey, this man may be the man of your dreams. Hell, he may make you put away those headphones of yours.”
“Bullshit.” I laugh a little too hard at the idea.
“Bitch, would I lie to you?!” His voice gets louder, and he looks at me like I just drank one of his many iced coffees.
“Maybe,” I smirk, and I move closer to Janice. Iamcurious now. Maybe even a bit intrigued. She moves her phone into the pocket of her navy skinny jeans.
“No, ma’am. I want to see your reaction when he comes in.”
“Damn, Janice,” Jace chuckles.
“You guys just like to torture me. This guy better be as hot as you say he is.”
“Fuck yeah, he is,” Jace cuts in.
“If you don’t go for him, I will.” Janice laughs as her boots clunk towards the kitchen.What happened to not mixing business with pleasure?The echoes of her boots soften the further away she gets. Her hips sway side-to-side as she struts through the double doors.
“Jace. You better not be fucking with me. It sounds like this guy looks like the perfect man for me, and perfect guys don’t exist. Believe me, I’ve lived and worked in this city long enough to know that.”My expression goes serious as I turn to face him.
“Thalia, if you don’t step up, I will swoop in before Janice gets a chance. Man has the best hair that I have ever seen. Tattoo-covered arms and blue eyes that could match the fuckingocean.” His emphasis lands on the last word.
His eyes gaze up at the ceiling. He looks as if he just pictured a four-course meal with cheesecake for dessert. “You got all of that from one picture?” I laugh, and my concentrated face turns into an upturned smile.
“Girl, yes. You will too once his fine ass comes walking in those doors.”
The night gets later, and more people crawl in from the crisp fall air. The Neon Rose Lounge is busier than last night, which isn’t much of a surprise because we get most of our business on Saturdays.
I must look ridiculous. My head turns towards the doors every time I hear theswooshof them opening.With curious eyes, I look at Jace. Their teasing earlier has me questioning if every one of the bar patrons is this mystery man. Only to find out, it isn’t the “Pour Decisions” guy. Each look he pairs with a shake of his head or him mouthing “fuck no.” Both are just as animated.Way to be inconspicuous, Jace.This guy is going to wait until close to sign these damn papers. What a prick.
The damp microfiber towel in front of me, which I use to clean the bar, acts as my distraction.I need to keep my mind busy.I will do anything to keep from looking desperate. I don’t even fucking know this guy. The obsession with every little detail in front of me triggers a need to start cleaning the glasses. I must have been scrubbing mindlessly. I look down and the glass is crystal clear, aside from the white material inside. By the way those two salivated over this guy, he better be worth my anxiety and nervousness.
It was true, I hadn’t had a boyfriend in, well, ever. Serious relationships never seemed to be worth the hassle. I just never let myself settle with someone I knew I would regret in the morning. Date after date had been a bit depressing. Sitting in the same restaurant that every man in the city takes you to. It’s a little over your price range. They think if you’re impressed with a thirty-dollar salad, you’ll let him in and spread your legs.Sure, I will, because honestly, I have fucking needs too. Ha, do you see what I did there?
Anyway,the old question of “what’s your favorite color?” can only go so far. Let’s face it, neither one of us gives a fuck if I like red and you like orange. Let’s get this one-night stand over with and never talk to each other again.
“Hey!” My inner monologue is interrupted by Jace’s whisper. Not a whisper. More like a quiet shout or a loud, breathy command. I look up from the squeaky sound from my glass as my towel rubs against it. He nods in the direction of the front glass doors. Immediately, my heart beats faster.Why am I so nervous? This is just a guy. A supposedly hot guy, nonetheless, but just a guy in the city. Nothing more. Fuck, my face feels hot and I feel like I’m going to throw up. Did I mention this is another reason why I don’t go on dates? Shit, am I sweating? Well, great, now I feel like I am going to throw up, I’m nervous, and I probably smell bad. Oh fuck, I didn’t even think about my breath. This should help. I pour a shot of peppermint schnapps and lean my head back.Here goes fucking nothing.
I nervously watch as the doors swing open. The thudding sound of his boots on the hardwood floor vibrates along the bottoms of my feet and up my legs, stopping at my upper thighs.
“Bitch, turn around,” Jace whispers commands once again. I guess I should do what he says. The nerves in my system mix with the minty shot.Come on, Thalia, where is that mask of confidence?My face says calm and collected bartender; my insides, however, are on fire. My head is spinning. I don’t do flirting or dating. I amnotmade for this.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he begins. His smooth tone makes my heart beat faster, and the hair on my arms stands on end.Sweetheart, what the fuck? What is this, the fifties? Be calm, Thalia. Turn around, meet the new supplier. Just get him something to drink. It will all beover soon. He can’t be as good as they said. No one is. Just turn the fuck around. Give him his drink and send him on his way to Janice.
Reluctantly, I turn around and face the mysterious supplier.
Oh, fuck.
Suddenly, I don’t mind the sweetheart comment. He’s hot. Hotter than hot. His black leather jacket sits snug around his arms, unzipped just enough to see his tightly fitted black shirt. I know I’m gawking at the man when I start to hear my mother’s voice in my head.“Stop staring, Thalia, that’s rude. Now, fill this wine glass, would you?” Yes, mother, of course.
