Most people had wariness in their eyes when they looked at me. Only Jeff, Rosie and Len didn’t. Even Rosie and Len regarded me with a healthy amount of respect.
But Viv’s eyes were open when they met mine. Bright blue and wide open like an endless ocean. And I wanted more. Needed it, actually. I’d endure as many fittings with the tailor and evenings in fancy restaurants as she’d allow me.
I wanted more of that look from her. More of her soft inhale as she ran her palm up my chest. More of her wide smile that made my heart jump. More of the body I’d lusted after as I followed her up the stairs to her brownstone and kissed her.
After I lifted weights and took a shower, I took off so Joe could clean my place without me underfoot. I dragged my ass back to the tailor and ordered more clothes and another pair of shoes. Then I stopped by the club and got the bag with the American Girl stuff in it and took it to the fancy women’s boutique in the same block as the club.
“Kane.” The owner of the boutique, Vicki, gave me a kiss on each cheek as soon as I walked in. Then she reached around and squeezed my ass. “How are you, darling?”
“Uh . . . good.”
I avoided eye contact. Vicki was a cougar and she’d pounce if I gave her a chance to. She was in her late fifties and had been trying to get me in bed since the first time we met.
“Another . . . package for me?” She licked her lips as she said the word package and I thought about walking back out the door.
But I couldn’t handle this myself. I put the bag between us to fend off her advance.
“Yeah. Just like last time. Wrap it all . . . pink or whatever. And ship it to the same address.”
“Sure thing. Will you come in for some coffee?”
“Can’t, I’ve got an appointment. Just invoice me at the club.”
A grin spread across her face. “No charge, sweetie. You can just owe me one.”
I shook my head. “Bill me.”
“Fine.” She tucked her platinum blond hair behind her ear and looked me over from head to toe. “Come see me anytime, Kane.”
“Thanks, Vicki.”
I left the boutique and caught a cab back home, the lemony smell of Joe’s work greeting me as soon as I opened the steel door that led from an alley into my small home. After another hour of sleep, I showered, dressed and headed into work.
A buzz of energy circulated through the staff as they gathered for our pre-open meeting. There were no down nights here, even during the week. In New York City, every night was cause for a party to someone.
My gaze skimmed across staff uniforms, the freshly mopped sealed stone floor and the polished dark wood of the round bar in the center of the club’s main level.
“Looks good, guys,” I said. “We’ve got a full house upstairs tonight, so I need you sharp and fast.”
“Did you fire Lizette?” a female voice in the back of the group called.
“Since when do I discuss something like that at a floor meeting?” I barked at the hidden speaker.
The low murmur of chatter stopped cold and a couple people turned her way with disdainful expressions.
“Anyone who thinks they’re being left out of shit that’s their business at this club knows where my office is,” I said. “Now get moving.”
Everyone scattered to finish last-minute work before open. Cash drawers would be opened and salt and pepper shakers topped off. In about an hour our early after-work crowd would start flowing in.
For whatever reason, Jeff wanted to go over the club’s financials with me. Our four business partners had gotten reports and he thought I should be knowledgeable about what we were earning and spending. I sat through two hours of boring shit in his office, sighing with relief when he finally told me we were done.
“We’re tearing it up, Kane. This is exciting stuff. Don’t you care that we’ve more than doubled our projections for profit this quarter?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, I care. But you could’ve summarized it instead of showing me all those fuckin’ charts and graphs.”
“I suppose.” Jeff leaned back in his black leather chair and clasped his hands behind his head. “So what’s with you taking Friday night off?”
“You take a night off every week,” I said, scowling at him. “What’s it to you?”
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you finally took a night off. You should do it every week. I’m just asking why.”
“I went out with someone.”
He gave me an amused grin, brows arched in expectation. “And . . . ?”
“And what? I need to get down to the floor.”
“Sit your ass back down and tell me about this woman who convinced you to take a night off. I’m impressed by her already.”
“Hey, here’s a thought.” I gave him a pointed look. “Maybe if I wanted you to know about her, I’d have mentioned it already.”
Jeff waved a hand. “You don’t tell anybody anything, motherfucker.”
“Exactly.” I turned for the door.
“What’s her name? You going out with her again?”
“Viv. And yeah.”
“Good.”
I opened the door and turned back to him.
“Hey, I think it’d be good if you were more knowledgeable about the operations of this place. Why don’t you come spend a couple hours with me tonight? Right now I have to make sure the tub full of Jell-O in Chuck Remington’s suite is firm but not too cold and write up one of the servers for being late again.”
“Uh . . .” Jeff’s eyes widened and slid to the baseball game just starting on the big screen TV mounted across from the desk in his office.
“Fair’s fuckin’ fair,” I said. “No reason for me to summarize it for you because you should experience it all first hand, you know?”
He blew out an exasperated breath. “Fine. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be down.”
I left with a satisfied smirk on my face. I’d teach that bastard not to suck up two hours of my time on boring-ass reports again.
The club was buzzing with conversation and music and I went down to take a look at the floor. I was about to head for the kitchen when I felt fingertips on my forearm.
“Kane.”
It was Sasha . . . something. I couldn’t remember her last name, or maybe I’d never known it.
“Hey, how’s it going?” I asked over the noise.
She leaned closer. “Good. I haven’t seen you in so long. Can we talk in your office?”
I froze. She’d offered to ‘talk in my office’ twice before, and both times it had been code for a fucking amazing blow job. The last time had been more than a month ago, and I’d had a drink with her at the bar after.
But tonight it didn’t feel right.
“Sorry, I’m running behind,” I said. “I’ve got work in the kitchen and upstairs.”
“Later?” She turned her darkly-lined eyes up to me and bit her full, bright pink lower lip.
“I can’t. Sorry.”
Her fingers slid away from my arm and she turned to leave. Was I supposed to say something to make her feel better? Like—hey, it’s not you, it’s me? I was no good at that shit. I just left. She was pretty, she’d find another dick to suck.
One of the hostesses, Drea, found me in the hallway outside the kitchen, her expression telling me she had news I wasn’t gonna like.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Chuck Remington’s not happy with his Jell-O.”
I glanced at the thick silver watch on my wrist. “The fuck? His reservation isn’t for another hour and fifteen minutes.”
“He said he wanted to make sure everything was just right.”
“Christ.” I rolled my eyes. “Let me guess, the Jell-O’s too cold? He mentioned that several times when he made the reservation. I think he’s worried about shrinkage.”
Drea smiled. “No. It’s strawberry and he wanted cherry.”
“Are you fuckin’ serious right now?”
She held her hands out in a would I joke about this kind of gesture?
“For fuck’s sake, get the guys to change it,” I said, sighing deeply. “Can’t have Chuck screwing his mistress and her friend in strawberry Jell-O instead of cherry.”