Nope. It didn’t matter.
Once my shoes and bowtie were on, I turned and brushed past him toward the door. “Keep up, newbie,” I said in a clipped tone. “I work fast and won’t slow down for you.”
“Pretty sure I can handle it,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mirth. Maybe I could convince Parker to make Ryder wear sunglasses so I didn’t have to see that unique green speck in his eyes while I worked all night.
I shrugged. “We’ll see.”
He snorted a laugh and followed me out the door.
I’d been here ten minutes, and I already hated this shift more than any other.
CHAPTER EIGHT
RYDER
Poor Alex. He’d need Botox before turning thirty if he didn’t learn to chill and stop furrowing his brow. Not that those little crinkles he got in his forehead weren’t adorable, they were, but most people tended to hate them on themselves, even if they found it appealing on someone else.
Trust me, my mother lived in a world of nips, tucks, and body alterations. Her yearly budget for plastic surgery, creams, and serums was higher than the GDP of most small countries. I knew more about crafting the perfect face than I ever wanted to.
Alex didn’t seem to be the Botox type. Maybe I’d gift him some for his birthday. That’d earn me an epic glare, maybe even one of those half-growls he did when he reached his limit. But then, if he did paralyze some of his facial muscles, I might not be able to tell when he was scowling at me, and wouldn’t that be a shame? The glower was epic.
Though wary, Trevor didn’t seem to hate me on sight like Alex did. Maybe he’d be willing to tell me Alex’s birthday. I probably knew it at some point, but it’d long slipped my memory.
The door to the staff room swung open, and Alex appeared. He had a light layer of sweat across his bare chest, giving him an almost glittery sheen. His face had a light pink flush to itfrom the hectic past two hours. It was easy to forget the sub-zero temperature outside after a few hours in the club.
“Five-minute break is over. Get your ass back out here,” Alex barked.
“On my way, boss,” I said, snapping out a quick salute. Jesus, five minutes had never flown so fast. All I’d managed to do was sit on a bench and suck down three sips of icy water. They were refreshing, but not enough. No way in hell would I ever admit it, but these first one hundred and twenty minutes kicked my ass.
We’d been back and forth from the bar to our tables at least five dozen times. Rich, drunk people were demanding as hell. Who knew? Then there was the combo skill of balancing a tray of liquid, waving a lit sparkler, shaking my ass, and hyping a table of shit-faced men that I’d never thought I’d need to master. We weren’t just alcohol servers—we were a sideshow, there to provide hours of entertainment while keeping the alcohol flowing.
And, shit, a magnum of alcohol was heavy as hell.
My feet ached, sweat ran down my ass crack, and no less than ten guys had tried to cop a feel. A good few managed it too. On a night out where I was the one planning to drink and hook up, I had no problem with wandering hands and grinding dicks, but while I was trying to learn the ropes at my new job?
Those dudes were annoying as hell.
Alex handled it all like a pro. He smiled, flirted, and dodged grabby hands from horny men with ease. I’d seen him dodge limbs like he was a slalom skier, avoiding every octopus reaching for him. If only he liked me better, maybe he’d clue me in on his secrets.
In less than five minutes, the shock of watching Alex work his tables set in. Who the hell was this man? Certainly not the prickly grouch I’d known for years. It turned out when tips wereinvolved, Alex could crank up the charm with the best of us. He also worked hard as hell, hustling the entire shift.
What I still had to figure out was whether this pace was typical for Alex or if he was trying to run me into the ground.
“Here.” Alex tossed me a rag and handed me a spray bottle the second I stepped into the hallway. “We have exactly fifteen minutes to turn over the tables before the next reservation.” He practically yelled to be heard above the music.
It’s funny how I could love the loud pulsing beat on nights I partied, but tonight, I found it annoying to constantly shout and never get a break from the noise.
“Parker hates, and I meanhates, if incoming customers catch us during turnover. Everything needs to be clean as hell and restocked. If there’s so much as a ring of condensation on the table, he’ll chew your ass out, and no one wants that.”
“I’m pretty sure Trevor wants that.”
He snorted, and his lips quirked, but the almost smile disappeared before I could appreciate it.
“You go wipe down the tables, and I’ll grab the water.”
Back to the grind. We’d been so busy, and he’d had so much Top Shelf wisdom to impart that I’d barely had time to get under his skin like I wanted. Although my mere presence seemed to irk him, I preferred a more active approach to driving him crazy.
It’s time to up my game.
