“Okay, so we have three waitresses on staff for busy nights. They get left, right, or middle zones. Tonight, we get left. That’s those six four-tops on the left wall.” She pointed to our station.
I nodded. Left, right, middle. Easy.
As we walked to the first table on the left side, she leaned in close to me. “Beers and doubles we can pour ourselves, but if it’s something fancy, you pass off the order to Mickey.”
Doubles, that was a double shot.
Check.
“Cool,” I muttered. If I could keep this job and make decent tips, I might be able to move out of the youth hostel I was staying at on Jefferson Street. It smelled like piss and I was pretty sure more than half my roommates were on something.
It’s only temporary, I told myself.
“Hey, Johnny!” Angela opened her arms and took some big fifty-year-old man into her arms for a hug. He wore the typical black leather chaps and black vest with his biker gang emblem on the back. I couldn’t fully see from here, but it looked like Hells Angels Phoenix Chapter.
“Hey, beautiful. Did you get that carburetor fixed?” he asked her as she grabbed each one of their empty beer bottles and handed them to me.
Angela nodded. “I did. Thanks for hooking me up. Another round?”
Johnny bobbed his head and Angela leaned into me. “Four Bud Lights, lid off,” she whispered.
I spun around, making sure to weave in and out of the crowd quickly. Angela warned me that Mickey didn’t like lazy waitresses who walked slow or dilly-dallied. If he was watching me, I wanted him to know I could haul ass.
Arriving at the huge beer tub we had on either side of the bar, I chucked the empty bottles into the recycling and grabbed four Bud Lights. Using the bottle popper that I’d hooked to my belt, I popped the caps off in record time. I was going to be a badass cocktail waitress. The next two years of nursing school were going to fly by, and before I knew it I was going to be on my way to financial freedom and emotional security.
Hailey 2.0 was on her way to living the good life.
Spinning around, I surged forward and slammed right into some big dude’s chest.
“No!” I shouted as the beers in my arms clicked together and smooshed against my breasts. His chest, my chest, they were the only things keeping the bottles from crashing to the floor and breaking, signaling the end of my first ever job. The dude went to step backward and I pushed harder into him. “Don’t move!” I squeaked, trying to work my hands between us, sliding up his rock hard abs to grasp the bottom of the four bottles.
I hadn’t even looked up yet, I was so concerned with not spilling these beers and getting fired. When I got a good grip on the bottles, I finally stepped backward and met the dude’s gaze.
Holy fuck.
Ethan King. Those piercing blue eyes were hooded as he stared right into my soul. I’d forgotten about Ethan King until this very moment. He was three years older than me and like seventeen years old when I’d last seen him. Honestly, all I remembered were his arresting blue eyes and the intense exchange we’d had on the bridge behind school on the worst day of my life.
The day my mom died. I was fourteen.
“I’m … sorry. It’s my first night,” I mumbled. My mouth suddenly dried; there was no way he remembered me. We hadn’t hung in the same circles; he was way cooler than me. I was the science nerd freshmen and he was the bad boy senior.
My gaze raked over his arms, covered in tattoos, corded muscles pulling at his shirt almost like it was a second skin. He had a skull tattoo on his neck. Neck and face tattoos were reserved for a certain kind of guy. Like a felon. Everything about him screamed danger. Everything but those eyes. Those eyes were the same ones the seventeen-year-old boy wore when he comforted me outside of class that day I found out my mom overdosed.
Ethan didn’t say a word; he didn’t look pissed, more like he was in shock, so I was taking that as a good sign he wasn’t going to complain to Mickey.
“Really sorry,” I mumbled again and took off to bring the beers to Angela’s table.
I’d forgotten all about Ethan King, but seeing him now stirred something within me. Something I’d thought was long dead.
* * *
The next hourwent pretty smoothly. Angela gave me easy tasks, like beer fetching, and taught me what some of the harder drinks were. Like a White Russian. Most of these dudes drank beer or double scotch on the rocks, so it was pretty easy. The screaming over the music was something I would have to get used to. By the end of the night my voice was going to be hoarse. My feet also hurt like hell. These cheap Wal-Mart tennis shoes weren’t doing shit for my arch support. Bryce didn’t let me take any of my nice clothes when I left. Just what I had on my back. So I was having an adjustment period.
Whatever. I didn’t care. I’d wear Wal-Mart white granny undies for the rest of my life to be free of that monster.
“Alright! It’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for!” Mickey called out up on stage, and the crowd went wild. “Tonight we have six beautiful ladies who have agreed to have a drink with one of you sorry schmucks for charity.”
Everyone chuckled.
