Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 102177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
You’d think someone battling with social anxiety would cringe away from jobs where you actually had to interact with people and be charismatic to earn tips. I would if I could. Not a lot of choice out there for me when I wanted to spend my days taking care of my mom. Night work was synonymous with bar work or stripping. I chose the former. I would have loved to keep my job at Gwen’s store, in Amber, where the patrons were less likely to squeeze my ass and have me on the edge of a panic attack every shift, but I didn’t get to choose. I did what I always did. Sucked it up and got on with it.
I clinked my class with the guy in front of me.
“Cheers to pretty bartenders,” he drawled.
I downed the shot, doing an inner eye roll. I savored the burn, the tingle that it gave me. Jude was watching me out of the corner of her eye. It wasn’t disapproval in her gaze, most of the bartenders were half way to blotto by the end of every shift. It was part of this place’s charm. The waitresses and bartenders were renowned for partying with the patrons, and mostly all of them were young pretty girls. Which was why it was always packed.
“You got a name, sweet thing?”
I smiled at him. I hoped it seemed genuine and not like I was suffering a stroke.
“Lily,” I replied lightly. The tequila was doing its job to help make the exchange easier and maybe even guarantee me some tips.
He leaned forward on his elbows, his eyes roving over me. “What’s your story, Lily?”
I paused. My story? I restrained a bitter laugh. If I told him “my story” I could kiss my tips goodbye. I would tell him how I was raised by a single mom after finally escaping the clutches of an abusive father. How I struggled with not being like anyone else, not being able to shine bright like my mom, and how I was crippled by self-awareness. How I fell in love with a biker after losing my virginity to him. How I watched my mother die slowly before my eyes. Quit college, so I could take care of her and watch while she faded away, while I faded away myself. Admit that now she was gone I was drifting like a ghost, barely feeling corporal, fighting the emptiness with spirits I normally wouldn’t touch. Trying to stay afloat.
I gave him another smile. “Nothing interesting,” I told him on another grin.
Luckily any further conversation was drowned out by more patrons needing their drink orders filled. During the course of the night my mask stayed on, helped by the fact I downed every shot that was brought for me, so everything began to blur around the edges.
“Holy shit on a cracker,” Skye muttered under her breath, her eyes glued on the entrance.
I was focusing on pouring a cocktail, so I didn’t follow her eyes. I should not have had that last shot, I decided. It was trial and error figuring out how much I could take, how much I needed to stop the big sad, but still make me stand upright.
“How about your number, along with that drink?” the man asked me when I pushed the drink toward him.
I was a little shocked. The dude just ordered an Appletini. I’d been certain he was gay—my gaydar was malfunctioning.
My shock gave me pause, and so it gave time for someone else to answer for me.
“You can’t order a decent drink, you definitely can’t handle a decent woman,” a voice declared from behind Appletini dude.
Appletini dude turned around, Skye and I both followed his gaze.
Asher stood there, something ticking in his jaw, his arms crossed, eyes firmly focused on me.
“Excuse me?” Appletini dude asked, seeming affronted.
Asher stepped forward, not saying a word. Then again, when your muscles bulged out of your tee shirt, your jaw could cut a bitch and your cut communicated your connection to a well-known motorcycle club, maybe you didn’t need words.
My guess was confirmed as soon Appletini paled, darted his eyes to me, then pushed through the crowd.
Skye, who had been watching the whole exchange, darted her eyes between Asher and me.
“You know this dude, Lily?” she whispered to me, despite Asher stepping up to the bar, well within earshot.
I let out a little giggle. One that sounded foreign to my own ears. I didn’t giggle. Well, not until recently.
“You could say that,” I replied, not taking my eyes off him.
Skye looked generally amazed. I guess I couldn’t blame her, she knew the before Lily. The before Lily didn’t giggle, didn’t take shots on shift, and she certainly didn’t have hot bikers visit her and scare off men asking for numbers.
“Skye, Asher, Asher, Skye,” I introduced, filling the silence.