“Crew, baby, did you hear me?” Tasha’s sugary-sweet voice slices through my thoughts, jolting me back to the here and now as I turn to look at her posing by the service bar. “I need another vodka tonic. That last one got knocked off my tray by some jackass who thinks talking is like playing charades.”
Grabbing a fresh glass, I fill it with ice and pour the two clear liquids in simultaneously, then top it off with a lime wedge and walk it over to her. “Anything for you, gorgeous.” I grin as I set the drink down in front of her.
She reaches her hand out to pick up the glass, purposely making contact with mine as her eyes twinkle with pure, unadulterated lust. “Anything?” she coos. “Cause I can think of a few—”
“Yo, Crew, need your help over here, man, and Tasha, go save Carmen from table twenty-one! They’ve taken body shots to a whole ‘nother level!” Rory shouts out from the other end of the bar, abruptly cutting her off.
Grateful for the interruption, I blow out a sigh of relief and spin around on my heel to rejoin him in front of the never-ending crowd waiting to get a drink. Then, I spend the rest of the night focused on the customers, setting my charm on overdrive as we rack up the tips, and while doing my best to avoid Tasha.
Nearly an hour after last call, the final drunken customers stumble out the door and Rory quickly rushes over to lock it behind them. Thank God. I'm fucking exhausted.
Slumping against the sticky counter, I grab the bottle of water I've been nursing all night and guzzle down the rest of it. I'd been moving at ninety miles an hour for the last seven hours and all I can think about is a hot shower and crawling into bed with Hudson.
"Tonight was only a warm-up, man," Rory chuckles as he rounds back behind the bar, snatching a beer from the cooler for himself. "Just wait until tomorrow. Thanksgiving is our busiest night every year. This place will be wall-to-wall bodies, all of the college kids here on holiday break, and others who are tired of being cooped up with their families all day. It's gonna be insane money."
"I'm always down for ‘insane money’," I reply as I toss the empty container in the trash, "but for now, let's get this place cleaned up. I'm ready to crash."
Picking up the sanitizing spray and rag, my eyes quickly scan the room, noting several of the waitresses wiping down the tables, while others are busy counting their tips for the night. I don't see Tasha around anywhere, and I silently hope she's already left, but just as I begin to clean off the tap nozzles, a familiar rack of tits framed by bright red hair moves directly into my line of sight across the bar top.
"My cousin is having a little get together at our place tonight. Most of the girls are coming if you want to join us." She pushes her full double-Ds out farther, as if that's necessary, and gives me her best fuck-me eyes while reaching out and trailing a fingernail down my chest.
I force a smile, not wanting to outright reject her, especially not with an audience. "Maybe some other time, T. I've gotta get home; my younger brother is there alone, and uh, I don't want him to worry." I stop myself before saying my girlfriend is waiting on me, because for one, I'm not really sure what Hudson and I are exactly, and two, Tasha strikes me as the type of girl who likes a good challenge, and if she knows I'm taken, it'll make me even more appealing.
The remark about my brother seems to appease her, at least for now, as she nods and grins wickedly. "Hot as fuck and a sweet family guy. I like you, Crew Elliott."
Uncertain of how I'm supposed to respond to that comment, I stare at her, probably looking pretty fucking stupid until our manager, Brody, saves my ass. "Tasha, leave the poor kid alone, and the rest of you, come cash out. I'm ready to get out of here."
"We'll talk later." She blows me a kiss over her shoulder as she sashays toward the office.
Thankfully, the few girls who are still remaining all follow her into the hallway, leaving Rory and me alone to finish our closing duties, and before he even opens his mouth, I feel the lecture coming.
During my very first shift, he warned me not to shit where I eat. "Flirt, but don't fuck,” he’d said. “Most of the waitresses will try to hook up with you, thinking that fucking you really makes them your favorite, like they've all got some magical fucking cunt that's gonna bring you to your knees, but there's too much premium pussy walking this town, to get involved with someone you gotta see every day."
At first, I didn't think it'd be too hard to fend them off; I’m capable of saying no nicely, but tonight was my first shift working with Tasha, and I realize it's going to be a little harder than I originally thought. I think I’m going to nickname her Tenacious Tasha.
"She's relentless, dude," he says lowly from behind me, "like a fucking Venus fly trap. She struts around shoving those irresistible tits in your face, flipping that long red hair that makes you wonder if she's a true ginger or not—and she most definitely is—only to suck you in, take what she wants, and spit you out." He does nothing to disguise the venomous tone in his voice, which I have to admit surprises me a little after I saw how friendly he seemed with her earlier.
"You sound like you're talking from experience," I note as I continue to organize the bottles of well liquor.
He howls with laughter, shaking his head while he holds his stomach. "Oh my God, no...well, at least not personally. I've worked here for over three years, and in all that time, I'm the only bartender who hasn't dipped my dick in that jar of honey. And I'm the only bartender still working here." He raises his eyebrows to emphasize the correlation. "I won't pretend to be a fucking saint. On more than one occasion, I've had a little too much to drink and found myself balls deep in one of the girls here, but I've got some standards."
"Should I tell her I have a girlfriend?" I ask, hoping he gives me a different answer than my intuition.
"Negative, Ghost Rider. And whatever you do, don't bring your girl up here unless you want to break up with her. Although, one good thing about Tasha claiming you tonight is that the other girls will back off, knowing she's making her play. She rules the roost around here, if you haven't caught on quite yet."
I spin around to face him, crossing my arms over my chest with aggravation. “So what am I supposed to do then?”
“You walk the fine line of flirting without fucking,” he closes the cooler door after having restocked all of the beers, “and hope she finds someone that catches her attention. You wear her down before she does you.”
“Is that what you did? Is that why she doesn’t try with you?”
Blowing out an exasperated breath, he shakes his head. “Nah, man. Brody told her he doesn’t share with his brother.”
“Wait! Your brother is Brody? Our boss, Brody?” I question disbelievingly.
He snickers. “You’re a quick learner.”
“And he doesn’t share wh—” I stop myself mid-thought as it all falls into place. “Her and Brody hook up?”
“I told you—Venus fly trap. Don’t get caught, man.”
At three-fifteen, I finally pull up in front of my apartment, my body feeling like I just finished a triathlon. Sluggishly, I tread through the snow from my car to the front door, lacking the energy to even hurry out of the cold.
The apartment is quiet when I enter, and other than the light over the sink, the place is dark. I detect the lingering scent of Chinese food, and the unopened fortune cookie along with the ‘Leftovers in the fridge’ note on the table confirms my suspicion. My empty stomach rumbles at the thought of food, but I’m too tired to even eat.
Lumbering down the hall, I peek my head in Caleb’s room to check on him and find him passed out in his beanbag chair, with the home screen of Call of Duty illuminating the room. An empty bag of Funyuns is crumpled up at his feet next to his dropped XBOX controller, his gaming headset is still covering his ears, and his vaporizer is resting in his lap. Chuckling under my breath at how he’s rocking the whole pot-head look, I remove the headphones and set the vaporizer off to the side, then lift him up—which isn’t nearly as easy as it used to be—and turn around to take him to his bed.