“Leave me the fuck alone, Alex. You know Parker doesn’t like two BSBs to take a break at once. And we both know who’ll be blamed for it tonight.”
“Don’t be a dick, Ryder. I’m trying to be nice here.”
He grunted. “Why shouldn’t I be a dick? It’s what you think of me. It’s what you’ve always thought of me. Might as well live up to it.”
I pressed my lips together. Years of dealing with Kenny’s bullshit taught me to control my temper, but Ryder was pushing it. “Look, I’m sure our problems are very different, but—”
He barked out a harsh laugh, throwing his hands in the air. “Yeah, FL, I’m sure they are. And your biggest problem is going to be me if you don’t leave me the fuck alone.” He advanced on me as he shouted. Stopping only when we were almost nose to nose. His chest heaved, and his eyes burned with anger. He was so damn close I could smell the expensive whiskey on his breath from the shot he’d done with his table recently.
I could taste it so easily. Just slip my tongue right into his mouth and sample all that smooth whiskey and building heat. My dick sure liked the idea. It swelled, and I couldn’t do a damn thing to hide it in the ridiculous work shorts.
“Are you fucking listening to me?” Ryder shouted.
His tone crashed over me like a bucket of ice water, jerking me back to reality.
I scoffed. “You know what? You’re right, Ryder. I have always thought you were a dick, and tonight you proved me right yet again.” I stepped back. “Go ahead and drown in your shitty mood for all I care. Don’t know why I’m trying to save your fucking job anyway.”
I spun and shouldered my way out of the staff room. Dance music assaulted my ears and overwhelmed my frayed nerve endings. Screw him. It wasn’t my fucking fault if he got his ass canned.
“Whoa,” Trevor said as I stomped over to the bar. He sat at the end, sipping a bottle of water. “What crawled up your ass?”
“Nothing,” I muttered, which made Trevor giggle.
“Maybe that’s the problem, my friend.” He leaned on his gold, sparkly elbows and arched an eyebrow. “Maybe you need something to crawl up your ass.”
Dom set a water bottle down in front of me. “I’m not one to kink shame, Trev, but I don’t think anyone needs anything crawling in their ass.”
“You have a point,” Trevor said with a laugh as he used a napkin to wipe the sweat off his forehead. I’d never understand how he danced for hours on end, but he loved Wednesday nights. “My point remains, though.” He pointed at me. “You need to get laid. How long has it been?”
If he only knew.
“Ryder was late tonight, Trev,” I said instead of answering that very dangerous question.
Trevor’s jaw dropped. “What?” He slapped my bare chest. “And you’re just mentioning this now?”
“Yep. Parker went all disappointed father on him too.”
“Now you’re just being mean.” Trevor bit his lower lip as he fanned himself with the damp napkin. “I miss all the good stuff when I’m dancing.”
“If you promise not to come in your shorty shorts, I’ll break a glass in front of him later.” Dom waggled his eyebrows as I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing.
Trevor, of course, clapped his hands. “Would you? Dom, you’re the best,” he practically squealed when the bartender nodded. “I’d do it myself, but I think he’s onto me.”
“Might have something to do with you bending over and asking if he wanted to spank you last time you broke something.”
He pouted. “Porn-fucking-lies,” he grumbled, to which both Dom and I cracked up.
I needed to get back to my tables before Parker noticed me slacking. Trevor would probably come on the spot in that case, and I had less than no interest in watching my friend spontaneously orgasm from our boss’ stern tone.
“All right,” I said, wrapping my knuckles on the bar. “I’m out. Thanks for the hydration, Dom. And Trev, you might want to consider therapy.”
He flipped me off and blew me a kiss at the same time while I walked away laughing.
Much better. I owed them a thank you for keeping me from spiraling into a shitty mood after my interaction with Ryder.
“Yo! Alex, my man!” One of my VIPs slung an arm across my shoulder as their group returned to their table from the dance floor. “Shots! We need shots. At least three rounds, right now.”
Christ. They were already shitfaced. Three more rounds of shots might make them comatose. “You got it,” I said, despitemy stomach roiling at the thought. “What are you up for this round?”
