His posture instantly changed. He leaned his body away from me, a look of complete fury falling across his features, as if he just watched me kick a newborn baby clear across the room and do a touchdown dance. What the hell is wrong with him? We had never even spoken before today. Maybe he had some mental issues going on.
From the corner of my eye, I watched as his right hand clenched into a tight fist, the tendons of his arms twisting and straining against his skin. His left hand gripped the edge of the table, knuckles turning white, as if he were holding on for dear life.
His dark eyebrows pinched together and his gaze averted to the stage behind me. His eye narrowed and with a curled lip, he muttered dryly, “Why don’t you just make yourself useful and lose your clothes and dance.”
Was he trying to piss me off? I stood frozen, blinking my eyes blankly at him. “I’m not a stripper.”
“I’ll pay you,” he smiled tightly, still looking beyond me at the stage.
“I. Am. Not. A. Stripper.”
“I bet you would be for ten grand,” he smirked, meeting his eyes to mine.
The urge to smack him tingled through my hand, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. Forcing myself to detach from the situation, which was something I was trained to do, I smiled wider. “So, you think because you offered me ten thousand dollars, I would gladly jump on that stage and dance for you?” Was I on camera? Was he serious?
For a few slow heartbeats, he glared at me. Leaning forward, his voice dropped into a low raspy whisper, “For ten grand, I’m betting you’d do a hell of a lot for me.” He was dead serious.
I pulled out the chair across the table from him and sat down, clasping my hands together and plopped them under my chin. This conversation was not going to end well. I didn’t want to screw up anything for Bree by attacking my boss’s brother. I certainly couldn’t afford to cause any attention to where we were hiding by beating him to a bloody pulp either, so I had to calmly figure out how to deal with this animal.
“Please, Kade. Do tell me what makes you come to this conclusion of me, having never met me before.”
He stood up, and I immediately regretted thinking I could sit down and talk this out with him. Obviously, he needed to be taken to a psych ward, the freaking Freud Squad, for immediate evaluation. He was glaring down at me, raging gray eyes full of disgust. “You’re just like all the other sheep around here. Maybe a tad bit prettier than the rest of them, and I’m certain you will use it to your bloody advantage, people always do.” He flattened down his shirt and backed away from the table. “Now go make yourself useful, shake your pretty little ass up there for me and earn yourself a year’s salary. Maybe you could buy yourself something pretty with the money. And, don’t call me Kade. It’s Mr. Grayson, since it’s your job here to serve me.” His slight English accent becoming more pronounced the angrier he got.
Again, I gave him a sweet smile, but damn, my hands were clenched into sweaty fists that were aching to knock a few of his perfect teeth out. “Wow. Big head, small mind, huh? I wouldn’t have pegged you as mentally incompetent, but I guess you really can’t judge a book by its cover.” I stood up slowly and leaned both hands down on the table. “I won’t dance for your money, Mr. Grayson. Sorry to shatter your clichéd stereotypical expectations of me.” He had no idea who I was or what things I had accomplished in my lifetime. Then again, look at what he was seeing; a pale faced woman, wearing ripped jeans, worn sneakers with holes in them, and hustling tables in a strip joint in the middle of nowhere, so maybe he’s right to assume things. I didn’t know. I didn’t care. I spun on my heels and walked away. Screw him. I knew this was the part I had to play now, but GOD, did it twist me up inside not being able to be myself in front of everyone.
“So why are you here then? If you’re not this clichéd version of a sheep I believe you are? Why not do something better with your life?” He barked. Oh, what now? Was he trying to save the poor waitress with his Prince Charming complex or was it an ignorant attempt at continuing the conversation with me?
Looking back, I met my eyes to his challenging ones. “How do you know I haven’t? And how do you know that this, right here, isn’t better than someplace else I’ve been?”
His mouth snapped shut. His dangerous dark features softened for a mere second before I turned my back to him and left him alone in the bar. This was his brother’s bar, I was sure if he wanted a drink bad enough, he’d know how to pour it, or snap his fingers to get some magical fairy that could. I sat behind the bar, pulled out my phone and pulled up some online newspapers to read figuring it was going to be a long night with him staring at me from his back table, fuming like a toddler for not getting under my skin. To hell with him, my skin was way too tough for some pathetic gorilla in a Gucci suit to break through.
Within ten minutes, I was blissfully comfortable reading the New York Times on the small screen of my phone, no longer thinking about Mr. Grayson. The next twenty minutes passed without incident, until a cold wind blew in from two older men coming through the front doors. The gentlemen, who were regulars, greeted me with a warm wave and before I could even get to their table, they called for two beers and two plates of burgers and fries.
Peeking my head into the kitchen, I whistled for Trevor, who was cooking that night and had to wake him up off one of the cots in the back room to cook. He groaned and muttered profanities at me playfully all the way back into the bar area, and I came out of the back laughing. My eyes went directly to the table Kade had sat in before, and to my relief, it was empty. But, when I grabbed two cold beers from the coolers behind the bar, I heard the slide of one of the bar stools across the wooden floors right next to me.
“Have a drink with me,” Kade’s husky voice said.
I looked up, stunned by his demand. He was leaning against the stool, which he had pulled up next to mine and was pouring an enormous glass of brandy for himself. There was no malice in his expression, no disgust from before, but his eyes were suspicious and cautious. Maybe he has multiple personalities?
Without giving him an answer, I turned and walked towards the two customers with their beers, telling them their food would be out in a few minutes. Walking back behind the bar, I pulled my stool as far as I possibly could from him and sat down, ignoring his glare.
“Did you not hear me or are you just ignoring me? Maybe you’re too simpleminded to understand me?” he demanded. Nope, not multiple personalities, just one big egotistical shitty one.
I laughed a small soft laugh and gave him a sad smile. I was too old to play games. I was too messed up with my own issues to care about his, and I didn’t do drama, not even on TV. “No, thank you, Mr. Grayson. Trying to intimidate me and putting me down might make you feel like more of a man in your small world, but it does nothing for me. I’ll enjoy sitting here alone a lot more.” I turned my back on him and continued reading my phone, in my mind betting that was the first time anyone told him no. I’m sure Kade Grayson had a long line of interested women offering their dancing services or doormat services to him for his money, but I wasn’t going to be one of them.
From the corner of my eye, I could still see the intensity of his stare. The man made me want to turn my head and stick out my tongue at him, and kick him hard in the shin. I didn’t though. I just watched him drain his drink, quietly place it back on the bar, push off from the stool, and walk to the exit as he whispered, “Goodnight, Lainey.”