6 Rich
Kimber seems distracted until she leaves and I don’t hear from her the rest of the day. Maybe it was just a one night stand, but it felt like she could have lingered longer. I liked her company, even if she confused me.
It really just made me want to ask who the fuckheis, but it doesn’t feel like something I can bring up over texts. At this rate she’ll more than likely just ignore me.
What I could hear of her phone call plays over in my head for several days, and I can’t make sense of it. I heard something about being not guilty, but can that be for her? I can’t really think of a time when Kim was particularly violent.
“Can you focus?”
I glance over at Tyson, who looks annoyed as he keeps tugging at the suspension rig. It’s a new set up that the co-managers want for the stage at Sins, and since he builds custom playrooms he seemed like the right person to help out.
If I could just pay attention.
“Right,” I grumble, eyeing the thing. Neon pink flashes in the light. It’ll make a nice stage piece. “It looks good.”
“That doesn’t help, Rich,” he groans, shooting me a look. He lets go of the ropes, the contraption above sinking halfway to the floor. It’s more complex than something I would sell in the store. This is for the stage, so there’s more rope and height to work with. “You’re distracted today.”
I hesitate, eyeing Tyson. I think he knows Kim better than I do at this point, but he has a girlfriend now. Or whatever he considers Kat to be. I don’t think they hang out as much anymore, and Kim’s older than either of them so maybe she doesn’t want to. “Have you talked to Kimber recently?”
Tyson frowns, crossing his arms. “No, I haven’t. She’s going to be in trouble though if she keeps it up.”
“It?” I ask.
“Oh, guess you haven’t talked to her either. Callie said she was drunk here last week. She stumbled around and even talked to a new guy. Tyler saw her too.”
I don’t really know who Tyler is, but I just nod along. “Huh. That’s unusual.”
“I don’t think she had any business being here,” Tyson answers honestly, pausing to fiddle with his hair. He keeps it long, sweeping the locks between his fingers as he ties it up out of his face. “She didn’t make a scene but if Jo or Vinny hear that she was here and possibly drunk she’ll get in trouble.”
He’s right, and I hate it. Kim loves coming to the club. We talk about it when I do deliveries at her job, and sometimes the deliveries here. She shouldn’t be jeopardizing that.
Make me forget his name.
“Has she had a fallout with anyone recently?” I ask, and now Tyson’s staring right at me. I clear my throat, averting my gaze. “Uh, a lover maybe?”
“Why so curious?” he asks with a smirk. “If you want to know so much about Kimber, ask her yourself.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say something else, but I just shrug and move on. I don’t want to make him too curious and cause issues for Kimber when she comes in next. This will be my only visit to the store this week, so unless she reaches out again or I see her at her job, I don’t think we’ll even cross paths.
I hate avoidance. She doesn’t have to spill her sins when I see her, but I’d love a little insight about what was going on in her head the other night.
“You know,” Tyson goes on, tugging at the ropes when I look back, “she’s probably working. Do you want to go find her?”
I blink. He didn’t say at the store, so he probably means here. I almost forgot that Kim is one of the servers since I rarely see her on shift. “Don’t you need-”
Tyson waves me off. “It’s just fancy rigging, right? I can handle that. And if not, Russell’s here somewhere.”
I nod and turn away. Collecting the bag with supplies I head off, taking the long walk from the stage runway back to the doors. It’s a huge space. When I look around the entranceway to the club, I don’t immediately see Kimber.
I guess Tyson could be wrong. He’s not even an employee of the club, just a contracted party like me. He might not know her schedule at all.
Then I spot her. Short red hair pulled up on each side of her head into mini pigtails, she’s wearing a short, pale silver dress with a faux leather collar. She’s sitting on a dais near the front doors. It’s a prime location to be spotted by people entering the club, but I can see the nerves rolling off of her from here.
She’s holding a can of soda, and I wonder if they nixed her alcohol privileges while she’s here after last time. There’s a pout on her lips, and her brows are scrunched together as she looks down instead of at anyone walking through the doors. It’s early in the evening on a weekday, and I don’t know how many people usually filter through at this hour.
If she wants to grab someone’s attention she should look up. Bowing her head when they notice her would be a sign of submission and a hint of what she’s craving. I watch her for a moment, waiting to see if she changes tactics. For the most partshe looks put out, which doesn’t make a lot of sense if she chose to come here.
Shouldering the bag I walk over to her, her light blue eyes widening when she spots me. She squeezes the can, denting it. “Rich.”
