“I worry about me too.”
Chapter 15
“Pitcher for table nine,” Simone called out.
Filling pitchers had become my job, and I knew it was because those customers were cheap tippers. But I didn’t complain. It gave me a chance to talk to Claude and share information.
“How are the tips, Mistress White?”
I gave Claude a cross look. “Don’t call me that. Not unless you have a twenty in your hand.”
He licked the tip of his finger and touched my arm before making a sizzling sound. “You’re the cat’s meow tonight.”
The club was abuzz with rumors of the previous night’s brawl. Those who had witnessed it firsthand discovered that I wasn’t all talk and no action, and that titillated customers. When people began fighting to get in line, I sent them to the other bartenders to even out the work. How the hell had I wound up being so damn good at something I hated? If my father saw what I was doing now, he’d probably lock me in my old bedroom for the rest of my life.
Claude collected the tray and strutted off to the beat of the music. He had a fifty tucked in the back of his shorts and didn’t seem to know it, even though it flapped behind him like a tail.
Flynn eased up to the bar and watched Claude hawkishly. He pinched his beard as if contemplating something. “What do you and that lovely man spend so much time talking about?”
I wiped down the bar with a rag. “Give it up. He’s out of your league.”
“Says the competition.” Flynn slid onto the stool and adjusted his orange glasses. “Nobody’s out of my league, princess. I just have to figure out how to get on the team. How much do you think he makes a night in tips?”
I sighed. “Is money all you care about?”
“Yes,” Simone answered for him while taking care of a woman in red latex.
Flynn tucked his cheek against his fist and leaned to one side. “My Creator was a blacksmith who made the equivalent of a dollar a day. He wanted cheap help, so he made me. I slaved my fingers to the bone, and all I got was a bed and a free meal.”
“Why didn’t you leave?”
“I was so wrapped up in the whole immortality thing that I didn’t care. He said I couldn’t leave until he taught me all the magic stuff, and he never did. He kept putting it off so he could keep me around and make more money for himself.” Flynn turned his gaze away. “Manky bastard,” he muttered under his breath.
“Maybe you should play the lottery.”
“I would, but I haven’t got any luck. So, Robin White, tell me about yourself. Are you from around here?”
“Born and raised.”
He stroked his bottom lip. “Did your Creator teach you all those moves?”
“Nope. Learned them on the streets.” I tossed the rag into a bin. “When you meet the right people, you learn what you can.”
“Is this what you wanted to be when you grew up? A bartender?”
“Hell no.”
“How old are you, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I stopped counting at twenty-five. Does it matter?”
His eyes skated down. “Your breasts are heaving.”
“So is that gentleman at table five. Better clean up.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Bollocks.”
After Flynn swaggered off, I signaled to Simone that I was taking my break. I wanted to call John Crawford and see what I could shake out of that tree. Men ogled me as I made my way through the room. Some bowed, others leered. The cloth around my head made me look like a superhero, but I sure as hell didn’t feel like one. After working my ass off all night, I was having regrets about choosing the leather corset. It felt like my body was in a vise and I might burst free at any moment.
