“Gimme whatever is left on tap,” I say. “Thanks, Vin.”
He brings a beer over just a minute later, setting it in front of me and fixing me with a considering look, but he keeps his mouth shut. We’ve worked together for five years and have been friends for three, so normally I would welcome his advice and opinions, but I can already hear the lecture if I told him about Eric. Once he stopped freaking out about the sex and the drugs.
Vin is kind of like the protective older brother of all of the girls here. If a customer was disrespectful or made us feel threatened, we’d go to him before we ever went to security. The man is six-foot-three and three hundred pounds of pure muscle, built like a steel wall. One of those guys that if you saw him in an alleyway, even a big tough guy would turn tail and run. But deep down, he’s just a giant cinnamon roll.
At least, when it comes to us.
I think the only reason he still works here anymore is because he knows what happens upstairs and he wants to be a safe haven for us.
When I finally reach the bottom of my beer, the club is starting to empty. I pick up my glass and walk around the bar to start washing it, but Vin pulls it from my hand and raises a brow at me as he starts cleaning it himself.
“Okay,” I sigh, “you’ve been giving me that look for an hour. What?”
In that thick New York accent of his, he says, “You’re distracted. Someone fuck with you?”
“No. Same old, same old tonight,” I assure him. “I was just thinking about what a good time I had on my trip.”
“Sure.”
“Really!” I insist, giving his arm a playful shove. “Hey...have you ever heard of a guy named Eric? Dark hair, southern sounding, has a lot of money, does investing?”
“You know how many rich guys named Eric probably came through here in the past two months alone?” He asks as he dries off a glass and sets it on the bar. “Sorry, kid. I got nothin’.”
“I didn’t think so.” I grab my purse and step through the partition. “If you hear anything though…?”
“Am I calling you or hiding a body?”
“Calling me,” I laugh. “Please.”
“Got it, kid. You get home safe.”
I’m a little embarrassed that the first thing I do when I climb into bed and pull the covers up over my chest is open every single one of my social media apps and type ‘Eric investor’ into the search bar; the same search query I’ve typed out every night since I got off of the plane. I scroll and scroll and scroll, opening a few articles or pages here and there in hopes of seeing his face, but nothing comes up.
He didn’t seem to have any issue flaunting his wealth in the time that I spent with him, so I can’t imagine he would be quiet about it online or in the public eye.
I rack my brain, trying to remember any detail about himself that he may have let slip. His friends names, his favorite places to go, anything to narrow down my search, but I don’t think we covered anything like that. Everything moved so fast between us, there was hardly time to breathe unless it was the air sparking electric between us.
“Ugh!” I groan, closing out my social media and pulling up my messaging app so I can type out a quick text to my best friend.
Me:Are we going out this weekend?
Ava:We can! Do you work?
Me:Not on Friday. Wanna hit Arcane? I need a distraction.
Ava:No updates from your kinky cowboy?
She’s teasing me a little bit, but it’s okay; only because we’ve been best friends since elementary school and she’s earned the privilege of teasing me about things like silly little crushes – okay, mild obsessions, maybe – over the mysterious man that I met on vacation who took my breath away.
She was a little surprised when I showed her my tattoo, and told her about his, but she didn’t say a word other than ‘good for you!’
I’m really lucky to have her.
Me:NO, and it’s making me nuts!
Ava:See, in the future if you get the number, you can avoid things like this.
Ava:You can always date my brother if you get lonely.
