Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
As I’m fixing my black pants, Tina walks in, dressed similarly to myself with long, black pants and a plain-colored button-up shirt that’s tight-fitting but professional.
“Okay, so I didn’t plan this one. But I kind of need you.” She bites her lip. “It’s one of his events.”
Oh, fuck no.
“Nope.” I shake my head. “I’m quitting.”
“But I’ve had two of my servers call in sick, and I’m one bartender down. Please, Thea.” Her hands touch mine and she pulls on them. “I swear, I won’t ask this of you again. I’ll even put you behind the bar so you don’t have to serve.”
“That’s what a bartender does, Tina… serve.”
Tina starts shaking her head. “Not at mine. The bartender mixes and the waiter hands them out and takes them around. The bar has no seating, and it’s just for drinks, no interaction with clients.”
“So he won’t be able to talk to me?”
“Atlas hardly attends any of the events I do for him, so I doubt you will even see him. It will most likely be Sydney.”
“Sydney,” I say, nodding my head. “I can deal with Sydney, just not him.”
Tina nods. “Okay, ready?”
“No.” She puts her arm through mine as we head to her car and get in. She drives to a place I’ve never been. It looks like a small bookstore from the outside. Tina just smiles as she gets out, and I follow her. When we walk into the building, I see it is just that—a bookstore, nothing fancy.
“Do we have the right place?” I ask with my eyebrows drawn together in confusion.
This can’t be her event, can it? I assumed it would be something a bit more high-profile, considering the class of Atlas’s clients.
“Yes, give it a chance.” She walks over to one of the bookcases and pulls a book out halfway. I jump when something behind me starts moving. When I turn to the sound, one of the bookcases is sliding to the side, revealing a set of stairs. “See, this is it.”
I look back to her with wide eyes. “Holy shit,” I say, shaking my head. “This is the event?” I ask, walking toward the stairs. I step down them. A small restaurant appears with a large open area. I spot the bar straight away, at the back in the corner, and see one bartender behind it.
“It’s amazing, right? Atlas designed it.” When I look back to her, it doesn’t slip past me the cringe that appears at the mention of his name.
“Do you talk to him?” She looks away, and I know I’ve gotten my answer.
“I can hate him if you want?” Tina states it more than questions it as I walk over to the bar.
“No, don’t hate him. I’m sure enough people can do that without adding another one.”
Tina laughs. “Yes, you’re probably right.” Tina walks up next to me and nods to the bartender.
“You can see everyone, but for them to see you, they have to look out the back, here. If he comes, there’s a back door behind there.” She nods to a spot behind the bar.
“I’m no bartender,” I tell her.
“That’s fine. It’s mainly champagne and wine, and the occasional whiskey on the rocks. And we all know you know how to pour a glass of wine.” Tina winks.
Before I can say anything, I look to the stairs to see Sydney stepping down. She looks in our direction and makes her way over to us.
“Thea, I have to tell you something,” Tina whispers.
When I turn to look at Tina, Sydney is now close and walks in front of her, sliding her hand around Tina’s waist, and then touching her lips to Tina’s.
At the sight, my eyes… well, they go really fucking wide.
What the fuck?
Tina kisses her back, and Sydney’s hand grasps Tina’s waist as if she’s afraid Tina is about to run off.
How?
When?
What the fuck?
Tina pulls her lips away, which are now pink as she looks to me. She wipes at her lips, and Sydney turns, following her stare, and gives me a disinterested look.
“Nice to see you too, Sydney.” I turn away from her and look at Tina. “You and I obviously need to talk,” I say while shaking my head. I had no idea that she was even interested in women, but then again, her last relationship lasted a month because she said, and I quote, ‘I didn’t like his penis,’ to which I laughed, but maybe she doesn’t like penises at all.
“Yes, but I have to get to work.” Tina leans over and kisses my cheek, then she turns to Sydney, giving her a soft smile before she walks off.
“You’re back,” Sydney says, leaning on the bar—there aren’t any seats, and for that I’m thankful.
“Seems that way,” I say.
“Tina’s been worried about you.” I was reaching for a glass but pause at her words. “I like her,” she states, and I turn to look at Sydney.