I almost drop the empties. Would she? Visions of sinking into her surrounded by all those mirrors flash through me.
I keep my voice careful and measured. “I’m sure Iron Jack will be glad to know who you choose to do that with.”
“What if I don’t tell him?”
I toss the bottles into the recycling. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what if I, let’s say, find someone totally different outside the club. And I go for it.”
My chest tightens. “I guess you can do what you want. Just don’t drag anybody into a fight. Make sure they’re not part of another club. That could start a war.”
She runs a finger along the top of the empty shot glass. “Like Romeo and Juliet, huh? I’m just talking. I’ll never get a chance. I’m escorted everywhere. If I stepped foot into Hookup Heaven, somebody would break the door down.”
That’s probably true.
“I guess you’ll figure it out.”
She turns to look at the stage. “Is that where you’ll put it?”
I know what she means. “I figure. Been working out the logistics.”
“Would you let me dance when the bar is open?”
Now, that’s a question. It was one thing to be the only person watching her. But a whole room?
“Maybe you better not do that until you’ve picked your man.”
Her eyes shift toward me. “You saying you can’t guarantee you could keep the customers off me?”
That was a consideration. “I guess we’d have to get more bouncers.”
“Lots of logistics. You can get temporary poles, you know. Terra says she has one at her house. She puts it away when people come over.”
“I’ll have to look into it.”
She pushes the shot toward me. “Do you think I can handle another one?”
“Sure. Or I can make you something easy on the booze that you can sip awhile.”
She nods. “Let’s do that.”
I fix her a Paloma, light on the tequila and heavy on the grapefruit soda and lime juice. I plop a cherry on top and slide it to her.
“Nice touch,” she says, plucking at the stem. “Everybody loves to remind me of my status.”
“Shit. I didn’t mean it as a message. Just a garnish.”
“That’s okay.” She pulls the cherry out by the stem and dangles it in front of her lips. “I like cherries.” She slides it into her mouth and uses her teeth to pop it off the stem.
I should not be mesmerized by this, but with Marietta, I am. She picks up the drink and takes a swig. “Oooh, I like it!”
“Good.” I put the bottles back in their places. When I turn around, Marietta’s watching me.
“I like it in your bar, Merrick,” she says. “It’s my favorite place to be.”
I don’t know why her words get to me, but I feel my throat feel thick. “I’m glad.”
“Are there times you could use some help? I could do that. I don’t have nearly enough to do at the club.”
