Because it turns out our new bouncer is a very popular addition to Mad Dog’s.
I watch nearly every woman who walks through the doors stare at him or do a double take.
A couple of the guys, too.
I see girls get on their phones and I watch the screens light up with text messages.
More girls show up as the night goes on, dressed to impress in a way that Mad Dog’s really doesn’t warrant, even on Valentine’s Day. And I watch it happen, time after time, as they grab their packet of candy hearts from the bowl and immediately give it to Luke.
He receives the candy hearts given to him with confusion at first, but it doesn’t take him long to understand what’s happening. As the night goes on, he adds them to his giant stack with unwavering, neutral politeness.
As the hours go by, he’s on the receiving end of so many little touches—those kinds that girls give to guys they’re into, little taps on the arm and shoulder—and he just observes it happening, never touching back or leaning into it. He gets flirted with, but doesn’t flirt back. His eyes never linger on anyone except to check IDs, and then once he waves them in, they barely exist to him.
Okay then. Good to know he can keep it professional, I guess.
I have to admit, I turn out to be wrong about Pretty Boy.
He can handle his shit.
Not in the way I was expecting of a bouncer, though.
It starts when two guys start getting in a heated fight over who’s going home with Michelle, who’s recently divorced and running a train through the local bachelors in revenge on her cheating ex -husband.
Before fists start flying, Pretty Boy steps in. I don’t hear what he says to everyone involved, but it ends with the two men standing down from their littlefight, and all three of them leaving in Michelle’s car for what I assume is a little Valentine’s Day menage-a-trois.
So… good for them.
And good for Pretty Boy.
As midnight rolls into one o’clock, things slow down enough that I can take my ten minute break without totally screwing over Jenny, my co-worker.
It’s feeling hot and stuffy and everyone’s perfume and cologne is starting to make my head hurt, so I grab my winter coat and head out back to get some fresh air. It’s a chilly night and the sky is full of stars.
When I was little, I used to wish on the brightest star in the sky that my mom would come back to me. That she would change her mind and decide she wanted to be part of our family after all.
At some point, it started to hurt—making that same wish over and over again.
It hurt too much to keep waiting for it to come true.
So now I wish on the brightest star for other things.
Depending on my mood, there are realistic wishes and impossible wishes. I wish for my dad’s bad back to quit acting up. I wish for my dog, Buster, to be the first dog in the world to live to a hundred years old. I wish for more days spent with my paintbrushes. I wish for someone to love me at my worst, not just at my best.
Like I said—realistic and impossible wishes.
I take in a deep lungful of icy air.
Technically, it’s February 15th. So I made it through Valentine’s Day without making any bad decisions, which is admittedly a rarity for me.
The door to the back opens. Turquoise eyes peer out at me from a handsome face, backlit by the bar behind him.
“Mind if I take my break out here too?” Luke asks.
I shuffle aside to make room for him against the backwall. He positions himself next to me and leans against the wall, letting out a breath.
He smells like spearmint gum. I bet he’d taste like it too.
“I’m surprised you managed to get away from all your admirers,” I say. “How does it feel to be fresh meat?”
