My brain immediately nixed the thought. There was no way Reggie would have any hazardous materials lying around in his kitchen.
But I knew I needed to get inside so I wouldn’t have Johnny hollering at me about values and responsibility and how the only way to succeed in life is to work hard and be on time.
“Where do I put this?” I asked myself, not wanting to risk leaving it in an unsecured car any longer. My brain had been so freaked about the break-in that I’d completely forgotten about it. I supposed I could stick my finger through it and make it a ring. But my hands were usually busy as a bartender, and I wouldn’t want it slipping off, maybe going down the drain. Toe ring?
With that thought in mind, I pushed the liquidy metal bit over my third toe and it conformed perfectly, creating a center hole and hugging my digit like it was a second skin. It actually looked sexy. I stuck my strappy heels on, which held the ring more securely in place, the energy of it humming against my skin, almost tickling me. Then I made my way into the club.
Johnny’s Spot was even busier on Saturday nights. Young singles in their twenties had had time to rest, get all hoochie-mamaed out and meet up with all their friends who were looking for an equally good time. I was up to my neck mixing drinks, grabbing beers, cleaning up bar spills and trying to maintain clever repartee with customers who were getting progressively more plastered. I knew that if I could get them to laugh, though, the tip jar would fill faster, which is good for all of us.
For the first part of the night, I developed a headache that I tried to ignore and just push through. It started out strongly enough, but I noticed that over the course of three hours, it dwindled. Eventually, it was gone, though a feeling of lightheadedness presented itself. But that was okay because it was a kind-of-cool feeling and didn’t hurt. I also thought I caught glimpses of Ryder in the crowd, which kept my heart jumping, but I could never get a clear view because of the constant movement of bodies. Disappointing. I also figured I could be imagining things, because wouldn’t he come up to me if he was there? We had shared some very intimate moments.
God, I want to grab your tits.
I heard the statement and looked around sharply to see which of the guys around me had said it. There were three guys looking up at the TV screen located behind the bar, watching a soccer game; there were two women flirting with Barry, waiting for him to finish pouring them drinks at his end of the bar; there was a lone woman who looked like she was waiting for someone; and there was a couple not too far diagonally from me. The guy was looking at the woman as though mesmerized by whatever she was saying. I thought the statement came from him.
And she didn’t belt him for saying that to her?
But no. She was smiling, gesticulating with her hands, and with every move, her overly endowed, surgically enhanced breasts jiggled in her low-cut blouse. Had she not heard him say it? She had to have heard it. I heard it, and I wasn’t nearly as close to him as she was. Whatever. Why should I judge, right? It took all kinds.
“Can you bring that tray for me?” Brenda was looking stressed trying to get drinks and food out to some of her tables quickly.
“Sure thing.”
I did a quick balancing job and meandered through the crowd with a load of beers and frosted mugs, following Brenda. We served the tables, and I handed her the empty tray, since she was going back to the kitchen, and headed back to my station.
Man, I’d like to tap that.
“Excuse me?” I frowned at the starting-a-beer-gut-backward-hat-wearing-still-living-in-the-glory-days (which had clearly been back in high school) guy I’d just passed, sure that he’d been the one to make the rude statement.
“What?” He looked defensive.
“What did you just say?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
I stared at him a moment longer, shook my head in disgust and moved on. Guys these days were real assholes. The bar was a stage, and I was the one-person Greek chorus, reporting on what I was watching, maybe even predicting things that would come as they played out before my eyes. There was just such a lack of respect toward fellow humans in general. It was no wonder we were so polarized politically, and going broke financially, as a nation.
After that guy’s comment, it was like a dam broke, and I was hearing all kinds of rude comments like I’d never heard before in my life. These comments were from men and women alike, and I was having trouble containing myself and being the professional I’m paid to be. I continued taking drink orders and washing up glasses during lulls in service, all the while wondering why the hell people were all deciding to take off the gloves at once.
I’d like to ride you, cowboy.
I bet you’re wearing a thong.
Can I be your Mr. Tonight?
He has pretty eyes. I like his smile. That was a nice one.
Sweetheart, quit acting so desperate and keep your girls caged in a shirt that actually fits. That raised my eyebrows, but I didn’t see anyone looking upset.
What do I need to do to fuck you tonight?
This guy reeks. I chuckled because I knew who the stinky guy in question was. I’d caught a whiff of him myself.
You’re not that cute, but I’d fuck you for a ride in your car, Dr. Tim. Don’t be obvious or anything.
Get your fake tits away from my man, bitch. I thought that one was going to cause a fight between some women, and I was already looking for Charlie and Billy to warn them, but all I saw was two women and a man, standing together and laughing over some joke, just having a nice conversation.
The random comments grew to a dull roar until I had trouble distinguishing one comment from another, yet I looked around and no one was actually saying what I was hearing.
Yeah, right. Of course you’re an actress.
Gross. He has dried spit in the corner of his mouth.
So funny. I wonder where he’s from.
Leave me alone! I don’t care about the stupid beer-coaster collection you’ve got.
Should I ask for her number? I think she likes me.
My blood went cold as the din of noise from the room and the din of noise in my head became overwhelming. It was so loud. I couldn’t hear any one thing anymore. I was hearing everything and unable to discriminate between sounds I wanted to pay attention to and sounds I didn’t want to hear, sounds that were actual, and sounds that were coming from...I didn’t know where.
“Jesus Christ! Are you deaf? I said I want a Guinness.”
I looked helplessly at the man at the bar facing me, wondering if he’d actually said that, and realized that his lips had moved, so he must have. I grabbed a bottle and took his money, ready to run from the room with my hands over my ears. Instead, I turned away from the customers and faced the brick wall that housed shelves of liquor behind me.