“I guess I’ll talk to you later then?” I said, smiling a little sympathetically. The last thing I wanted was for his feelings to be hurt. That wasn’t my intention. Suggesting we could still chat was a little less harsh than completely cutting off contact.
Oliver nodded slowly, one of his warmer smiles slowly returning. “Yeah, sure.”
After a short goodbye, I got out of the car and gave him a small wave through the window. He returned it before turning over the ignition and leaving.
I had the apartment to myself again. The second I got through the front door, I raced for the bathroom to finally relieve myself, letting out a heavy sigh when I did.
Kira was either still at work or had gone to lunch with Aiden. It was something they had agreed to do since their little argument over the signed coaster from Romeo. To rekindle the romance. And seeing as the bodega Aiden worked at was several blocks from where Kira worked at the garden center, it made sense they would meet up during the day.
With several hours until I began my shift at The Den, I showered, changed into my usual uniform, and settled on the couch with a bowl of leftovers from dinner and a book.
Chapter 25
Dean
I leaned against the back wall of the club, watching over the crowd of bodies that packed The Den. The music was loud enough to send soft vibrations through the souls of my black sneakers.
Someone had broken the downstairs toilet which was why I was up here, trying not to bring attention to myself as I waited in the long queue to the bathroom. My gauze-wrapped fists were buried deep in the pockets of my shorts and I kept my hood on, zipper up. Nothing more than one of the usual lurkers that hung out at this club.
It was my first night back in the pit since my win against Murphy on Saturday. The bruise on my nose (tender but not so blue anymore) was a reminder to lift my guard. He moved fast for a six-foot-tall guy of 31 years old. Years of MMA training backed every one of the Irishman’s punches, kicks, and tackles but it never seemed to be enough to get him across the line. Always falling short of a win.
I wasn’t surprised, when I received tonight’s schedule from Joe, that Murphy had put his name down for a rematch. Again. But it was an easy $500 for the winners of these fights ($250 for the losers) so I wasn’t complaining.
However, my patience for this bathroom line was wearing thin.
Did everyone suddenly have to crap at once?
I ground my jaw as I looked down the line, moving at a snail's pace or coming to a complete standstill. It didn’t help that many of the people were drunk and stumbling to and from the queue as if others weren’t already waiting. The older guy beside me was already nodding off to sleep where he stood.
I rolled my eyes and brought my attention back to the room ahead. If I ever found out who broke the toilet downstairs, I would shove their head in the bowl.
My frustration was short-lived though. For a moment anyway.
I saw the top of her head, the messy bun of golden-brown hair bobbing along as she weaved through the crowd, waiting on tables and collecting empty glasses. Lily was at least a foot shorter than my six-foot-three height, which made slipping through the narrow gaps between bodies easier for her.
For a second, I lost sight of her, craning my neck to peer over the crowd until she reappeared, skirting around the edge of the room with three empty beer bottles tucked between her fingers on her right hand, and a stack of glasses in the other — a fresh bandage wrapped around that one. She was so focused on the task at hand (her eyebrows furrowed, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth, and avoiding any rowdy members of the crowd that could bump into her) that she didn’t notice me as she breezed by. Her subtle scent of fresh linen and jasmine cut through the usual beer-stained, sweat-drenched stench of The Den.
Antonio had agreed to give Lily time off from working in the basement after I mentioned the situation with her hand. And I was relieved by it. She barely fit into the gritty environment upstairs, let alone the bloodied one downstairs.
With this many bodies crammed into one place, and the AC working twice as hard to keep the humidity at bay, it was no wonder her face was flushed. Any strands of hair that had come loose from her bun, hung in frizzy curls around her face and clung to the back of her slender neck. When she arrived at the bar, she was visibly relieved. Sliding the glasses onto the counter, she rounded the bar, stored the tray on a shelf below, and then wheeled over a three-tiered, stainless-steel cart that already had a few dirty glasses lining the top surface.
After discarding the other empty beer bottles into the trash, she placed herself between the cart and the bar and lowered herself into a squat for better access, twisting back and forth to add the dirty glasses from the countertop to the bottom shelves. I assumed this cart was for the dishwasher. That small detail wasn’t important though. Neither was keeping track of how many glasses she stacked as I let my gaze drift down.
The back of her shirt had lifted slightly with her movements, revealing a slip of smooth, fair skin under her black T-shirt, and two little dimples in her lower back. All just visible over the hem of her tight, black denim shorts.
And now I’m looking at her ass.
I pulled my head back from the tilt it had slipped into, frowned, and turned my attention to the bathroom line again. The sleepy old drunk from before was passed out against the wall, and several new faces had cut in front of us.
With less than ten minutes until the fight, I moved down the line and cut through to get into the back room. Making sure no eyes were on me before I slipped behind the heavy red curtain that covered the hidden entrance to the corridor.
I strode for the exit to the alleyway outside, shouldered the door open, and crossed over to the opposite brick wall, making quick work of my drawstring as I checked the coast was clear. I was already pushing my luck with making my fight on time and really couldn’t afford to have someone jump me with my cock out.
Seb would never let me hear the end of it.
The door clicked open behind me just as I finished. It whined on its hinges as the subtle tapping of heels on concrete approached from the corridor inside. I had developed an ability to recognize that walk anywhere; the deliberate slow steps no doubt partnered with the sway of her hips. It was long overdue for Roxy to hunt me down again after the meeting last night.
Or after what didn’t happen last night.
