A man approached her from the side, kissing her cheek. “That wasn’t me. I’m here baby, and you’ve been very good.” His chuckle was low and full of affection as he pulled her close. She smiled at him sweetly and hid her face in his chest.
“Two gin and tonics, please,” the man said, and slid his card on the bar.
Finley prepared them while Lucy took payment. They fell into a rhythm, serving the patrons with efficiency and engaging in small talk that put a blush on Finley’s cheeks more than once.
A bald man with dystopian goggles on his head approached the counter in a wheelchair, and Finley leaned over to let out an appreciative whistle at the sight. The metal chains adorning the wheels clanked as he moved closer. The bar lights illuminated the spikes on the sides and leather straps holding it all together. Coupled with the man’s heavy boots with buckles, he could have ridden straight into the set of Mad Max.
“Nice ride,” Finley said, eyeing the details and fantastic paintwork.
“Thanks. My wife helped me turn it into this beauty.” He put his hands on the wheels and twirled in a circle.
“Sweet! I’m Finley, I’m new here.”
“I know because I’m not. I’ve been coming here for almost a decade.” He chuckled. “Name’s Liam.”
“Can I get you anything, Liam?”
“Jack and Coke, and two fingers of Malibu. I’ll take them right away.” From the pocket of his artistically battered jacket, he retrieved a card and touched it to the reader.
Finley made the drinks and walked around the bar to the man.
“Here.” Liam fiddled with his armrest and slid out two holders, perfect for the glasses Finley had brought.
“Enjoy.”
“Thanks, mate. See you around.”
Finley returned to his spot behind the bar just as Lucy came back from delivering an order to the VIP lounge.
“Ah, you’ve met Liam.” Lucy arranged a row of shots as if expecting someone soon. “He and his wife are regulars. You’ll know who is who soon enough.” She patted Finley’s shoulder then paused.
The chest harness Finley wore left most of his back uncovered and he knew the second Lucy’s inquisitive nature would win. The dual sets of dates marked the two beginnings and two ends—the events that had shaped Finley’s life the most. Even for someone who didn’t know his story, it must have been clear what the dates meant.
A birth and a death.
“Your shoulder blade tattoos…” Lucy’s hand fell. “I’m sorry. Who—” Lucy pursed her lips and met Finley’s gaze. “You know you can talk to me, right? Anytime.”
Finley nodded. “It’s a long story. Maybe some other time.” He cleared his throat as his chest constricted with the ghost of a past so painful it was still very much in the present.
Lucy squeezed Finley’s forearm, bringing him comfort with the simple, yet supportive gesture, then turned to straighten the bottles behind the bar.
Finley excused himself to the bathroom where he splashed his face with cold water and sat on a closed toilet lid in a stall. His friends from the island had attempted to talk to him and engage in social activities after the tragedy that happened nearly two years ago. He’d tried to continue his life running the distillery like he’d done for seventeen years, but it had been too hard. Mary, the self-proclaimed mother to the small island community, had suggested he should talk to a professional. They’d been friends for over a decade and he had a difficult time mentioning his family in her presence, so how the fuck couldhe unload his trauma to a psychologist? He couldn’t change anything, anyway.
This new job was a blessing in a way that distracted him from thinking. Until now. His next shift would be on the floor and he’d be watching a scene up close. Maybe he should book a session with Master Kage after all? Push his body and mind further than he ever had and see who came out on the other side.
To make the best use of the break, he took a leak, washed his hands and headed back. Hopefully, with the busy atmosphere and chatty customers, he’d shove his memories aside and focus on the present.
Sure enough, patrons queued to get drinks before the session on the main stage started.
“You all right?” Lucy asked, taking her gaze off the cocktail she was preparing to glance at Finley.
“Yeah. All good, thanks. Let me help.” He took out drink glasses and froze.
According to the graphic, the audience would have the pleasure to witness Mistress Renata in action today and Finley couldn’t wait. So his brows flew high in surprise when a familiar figure of a tall man moved towards the bar.
“Master Kage is coming,” Lucy sing-songed. “You serve him. Doms can cut the queue.”
“Of course they can.” Finley snorted, keeping his expression neutral. Hopefully, he succeeded.
