The need for a pill.
That need to feed the beast within.
It doesn’t come, though, and for that, I’m relieved. There’s no place for that in my new life.
I walk into the room filled with decadence and sin, clinging to the hope that I’m stronger than this. There’s no temptation great enough for me to break this clean streak. Putting food on my plate and making rent are quite the motivation to stay on the straight and narrow.
My ears begin to ring as my feet carry me closer to the bar. The bass is so loud it actually shakes the room, and I can barely hear myself think. It would be easy to lose myself to the oblivion of the pulse in this familiar terrain. For this reason, I haven’t stepped foot in a club or a bar since the night I attended my first NA meeting.
This feeling of wanting to drown in booze gnaws at the pit of my stomach as my eyes scan the room. I shouldn’t be here, but I have no choice.
Club Silver is a white and sterile, modernistic space. Along the outskirts of the room are faintly lit alcoves for bottle service. White chiffon drapes hang from metal wires that allow the patrons to close themselves off from the outside chaos and be free to drink and party the night away.
My jaw tightens. No. Not going back there.
Pushing back my memories, I continue to the bar. I walk up to the stainless-steel monstrosity that takes up the whole wall, and the most beautiful man I have ever seen turns in my direction. He has short, brown hair that looks kissed by the sun and piercing blue eyes. His intense gaze causes me to flush from head to toe, and a perfect five o’clock shadow adds just a bit of ruggedness to his otherwise boyish features. This man can easily play the main character in my next fantasy. He’s sheer perfection.
“Um, is something wrong?” I ask, feeling shy under his blatant staring.
“Nope. Not so much as a hair out of place.” He cracks a warm smile. “You just remind me of someone I used to know. No big deal,” he says, pulling down the handle of the tap and filling a glass full of amber beer. “Damn,” he barks as the keg splutters, spilling the last of its contents and spraying a bit at him. “Give me one minute,” he says, running toward the back.
I take my time looking over the liquors that line the wall in front of me. Top shelf and the most expensive bottles sit highest on the wall. I’m sure in a place like this, bottles even that expensive don’t gather dust.
“Sorry about that,” he says, wheeling in a new keg. “What’s your poison?” Mr. Beautiful throws my way.
“Actually, I’m here to see Mr. Lawson. I’m Bailey Jameson.”
“Your name is Bailey Jameson?” He chuckles. “Did your parents have a drinking problem or something?” he says over his shoulder as he slings the keg into place.
Oh my god, his arms are so toned and sexy. He raises his eyebrows, signaling he’s waiting for me to speak.
“Um, what?” Brilliant, Bae. Now he thinks you’re a moron.
“You have two liquor names. Ya know, Bailey and Jameson?”
“Oh, right. I’m pretty sure that was an unfortunate accident.” I grin and continue my quest to locate my new boss. Please don’t let it be a hot bartender.
“I’m supposed to be starting here tonight.”
“Ah, yes. The fresh meat.” He smirks.
Oh god, that smirk. My insides melt right then and there.
“Unfortunately for you, Bailey, you’re stuck with me. Drew is meeting with someone in his office. I’m Carter Cass.”
Carter Cass. His name is perfect . . . He’s perfect.
“That’s okay.” Suddenly, I’m nervous at the prospect of being stuck with this guy. He leans forward across the bar, his muscles becoming more defined, and I gulp deeply as I’m sure my cheeks turn crimson. His lips tip upward as he catches my perusal. Keep your head in the game.
“You sure you want to work here? You look a little scared.” His grin deepens.
My eyes widen. Shit. He’s hot, but no reason to make an ass out of yourself. “I’m fine. New jobs always make me a bit uneasy.”
“Well, you got nothing to fear at Silver, Bailey. Everyone is real chill, plus the tips are killer. You can’t get better than this anywhere in New York.” He motions around the room to prove his point. “Why don’t you come back here, and I’ll show you the ropes? What did Drew tell you about the job?”
“Honestly, nothing. I’ve never spoken to him.” I shrug.
“So how did you wind up here with us?”
“A friend called in a favor. I was about to get evicted from my apartment—”
My hand clamps over my mouth. Carter lifts his head to me. He doesn’t say anything, but I know he wants to ask. He’s giving me time to spill, but I won’t. We stand here in silence until he averts his eyes and gives me the out I desperately want.
“You don’t need to say more. I get it. So, where were we?” He taps his chin with his pointer finger. “Oh yes, the ropes. Come on back. Don’t be scared. I won’t bite.” A small dimple forms in his right cheek, and it’s so cute, my whole body relaxes. It gives me the strength I need to overcome this first obstacle, remembering how I got here.
I make my way inside the bar and peer up at him as he tells me the ins and outs. With his tanned arm, he points toward the secluded banquettes lining the dance floor, showing me the way to the VIP rooms I’ll be serving.
“So, Bailey, what’s your story? You a struggling model too?”
“Hardly. I assume you are?”
“Model, actor, singer. Typical bartender story,” he says as he pours a shot of Patrón Silver for a group of guys across the bar from us. “I can tell you’re going to do great. The men will love you.”
He goes about pouring more shots for another group of people. The idea of “the men” loving me isn’t sitting well. Guys are another distraction I don’t have time for.
“If you start to need a drink or a pick-me-up, just let me know. I’ve got you covered on both fronts,” he whispers in my ear conspiratorially. “However, you have to be careful because the boss is a tight-ass about it. He used to be cool, but now, not so much. We find our way around it, though.” Fuck, so not what I wanted to hear. “Thanks, but I’m good. I’ll stick to Coca-Cola or Red Bull.”
“Good for you. I respect that. Honestly, though, according to all the girls who work here, the only thing you need is a good look at Drew. Apparently, and I quote ‘The man is sex on a stick.’”
“And you . . . what keeps you distracted . . .” I trail off, not knowing what to say.
“Tall, blonde bombshells who love to party.” Great. The complete opposite of me. I’m not tall, have mousy brown hair, dull blue eyes, and the word “bombshell” does not apply. So much for a chance with him. Although that’s probably a good thing, seeing as he does drugs. I can’t be involved with someone who does.
Hours pass and I can’t remember the last time I clicked so well with someone. I’m working my ass off, but at least it’s fun.
A movement to my left has me leaving that thought behind. Carter is trying his hand at juggling but failing miserably. I can now add cleaning the floor of broken bottles to my list of things to do tonight. Carter passes a gorgeous smirk my way. My lip involuntarily rises into a large, goofy smile of my own. This guy is undeniably some exquisite eye candy. I must have been standing here for minutes, just staring, when I hear Carter call out to me.