“Thank you,” I reply and haul ass toward the bar, trying hard not to trip, shuffle my feet, or otherwise look like an imbecile. The entire way there, aside from attempting not to embarrass myself, I think about Drew and how off he just was. The man is mercurial, if nothing else.
“Here’s the Goose.” Carter hands me the bottles.
The expensive alcohol isn’t just left lying atop the bar. The bartender has to personally pass it to us. It makes sense with the sheer number of people milling about. Not that any of them couldn’t afford the liquor, but according to Carter, money doesn’t equal honesty. He’s right.
“How’s Reese acting tonight?” he asks.
“He’s better. Still a douche, but not a complete asshat tonight.”
Carter snorts. “Reese will always be a douche. Nothing will change that.”
I smile at him. “Gotta go. My tables will be needing me too.”
When I make it back to room two, Lauren is waiting at the entrance. “Thanks, Bailey. I appreciate it.” She grabs the Goose and turns to walk away.
As much as I don’t want to deal with the group inside, I need the money, and I need to push through it. I missed out on the tip Reese was offering up. I grit my teeth and head to my own tables. I can make that much on each of them if I make sure they’re all okay. So that’s what I do, and it works. For the rest of the night, I run my ass off for four high-top tables. They aren’t the VIP rooms, and I won’t make the kind of money the VIP girls will, but I didn’t do too shabby either. Each table tipped me over three hundred dollars.
I take a load of glasses to the back room and shift through my apron looking for my tip purse. It’s gone. Panic claws at my chest and works its way up my throat, bringing bile with it.
Sweat beads at my temples and my hands begin to shake.
This can’t be happening.
“Drop something?” That smooth, delicious voice washes over me, momentarily setting my nerves right.
I turn hesitantly, not wanting him to see the way my mouth quivers from the exertion of staving off tears. He lifts his hand out, and that’s when I see my tip purse. My entire body relaxes, shoulders slouching as I breathe easier.
He doesn’t move any closer, so I step forward and reach for the purse. My hand grazes his, and electricity courses its way up my arm. A traitorous sigh escapes my lips, and his brow quirks in amusement.
My cheeks heat, and I rip the purse from his grip, then take three giant steps back.
“I believe a thank you is in order,” he teases, and I frown.
“Thank you,” I say a tad too snippily for having just been saved by this gorgeous man.
“I’m sorry, it has been a long night. I am grateful you found this. Truly. Thank you.”
He nods. “You’re welcome.”
I offer a small smile and grab a rag to get back to my table.
“Bailey,” he calls out, and I turn my head over my shoulders to look at him.
“I’ll take care of Reese. He won’t talk like that to you again.”
With that, he exits the room, leaving me reeling at the intensity of his promise.
7
Drew
“God, that was a long night.”
I glance sideways at Carter. He’s our complainer. I usually ignore him, but tonight fucking blew, and I’m not in the mood for his bitching.
“I know thousands of people who would love to look at attractive people all night and leave with over five grand in their pocket.” I don’t mince words. He makes bank here, and I have a stack of résumés a mile high in my office belonging to people who would kill for his position.
“But you’d miss me.”
“Wrong, but I do know several people who would. So, for now, you stay,” I say, only half-serious.
“What’s up with Reese and the crew these days?” Carter asks with a hint of annoyance.
“How the hell should I know? Piss them off again?” Carter doesn’t like to take Reese’s shit and often puts him and his friends in their place, but I know that’s not it. Reese is still probably pissed because I set him straight earlier in the night.
I caught Reese eyeing Bailey as she walked past his room. Then add to that his come-ons and inappropriate suggestions, and I wanted to throw his ass out again. This is becoming a pattern I need to stop. He’s so drunk, he flip-flops back and forth from staring at her like maybe he’s seen her before and wanting to undress her.
Once again, I was forced to watch his table, and yet again, I called him on it. He was his typical egotistical self. He threw out a few veiled threats, and here we are again at an impasse.
His douchebag friends thought they’d get some side action. Typically, this wouldn’t bother me, but knowing what I know about Bailey, that shit ain’t going to fly. My conversation earlier tonight with Reese basically went like this: The new girls aren’t to be fucked with, Reese. Touch them, talk to them, or even glance in their direction, and you’re out.
I lost five great servers last month because of his shit. I’ve talked to the girl once, maybe twice, but knowing what I know, she doesn’t need Reese’s baggage, and she needs this job.
Her eyes are haunted. She has demons. Can’t he see that? Doesn’t he see what I see?
I’m not going to let Bailey be his next casualty.
“No, I really haven’t seen them. They were rude to my new trainee, Bailey, when you were gone, though, and tonight, I could tell they were at it again.”
I raise my brows. “Does that really surprise you?”
“No. They’re a bunch of dirt bags, and have you seen that girl? She’s the hottest server you have.” He hoots. “Then there’s the whole—”
“Yeah, I’ve seen her,” I cut Carter off. I don’t want to talk about something else. “What’s her story?” I ask, trying to sound aloof. I know all about her already, but he doesn’t know that. I’m intrigued, and maybe he knows something a Google search didn’t find.
He looks at me for a beat too long. I can tell he has something to say, and it pisses me off that he’s hesitating to share it with me. You know exactly what he’s thinking.
“What? Out with it, Carter.”
“Listen, Drew, you’re my boss, and you’re a cool guy, but don’t mess with this one. I know you can have any girl in this club, but I can assure you, Bailey is not your type.”
“What exactly would you know about my type, Carter?”
“You forget that not long ago, before you owned this place, you were just another partier hanging with us low-life wannabes, hitting the powder.” I scowl to show that he’s riding a thin line with this conversation, but he continues. “I know the girls you go for, and I know who you steer clear of, and I’m telling you, Bailey is one you’ll want to avoid. You should avoid her, considering.”
“And if I don’t?”
“She isn’t a money-chasing whore like Monica, and she isn’t the confident A-list girls you play around with on the weekends at your galas. She’s not Alexa, man.”
I jerk back as though he hit me. His words clearly hit his mark and aren’t wrong. I’m not sure what has me more pissed—the fact that he’s right or the fact that he’s brought up Alexa. But either way, it has my hands balling into fists at my side. “What the fuck do you know about Alexa?”