Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“Nope.”
“Didn’t sound that way to me. Jealous? Sorry, but you’re not really my type.”
He rolled his eyes. “And you think you’re my type? Not interested.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to mention how hard his dick was against my ass the night before, but then he’d mention I’d had a stiffy too, and I didn’t want to admit that in front of everyone. “Tell yourself whatever you need, sugar.” I winked.
“On that note, I think I’ll head to work now.” Dane walked out without another word, and ugh, I totally watched him go.
Damn it! Why did he get to me? I wanted to fuck him and punch him at the same time, which was an odd combination for me, and yeah, I’d also never punched anyone in my life. I was more of a live-and-let-live, violence-is-never-the-answer person, but something about him tied me in knots.
“Who wants to take bets on how long it will take before those two are fucking?” Skylar asked, and everyone started giving time frames.
“Yeah, right. He wishes,” I replied. It would be a cold day in hell before I gave Dane the pleasure of knowing I wanted him.
6
Dane
Goddamn it, I shouldn’t have responded when I heard Jesse bragging about a hookup in the staff room. What the fuck did I care? It wasn’t like I couldn’t have sex if the urge hit, so what made us so different?
I certainly didn’t go spouting off about all my business, for one.
Thankfully, I wouldn’t lay eyes on Jesse again for hours or maybe even days.
That should’ve filled me with sweet relief, so why was it disconcerting as well? Fuck, I didn’t have time to unpack every aggravating thing that guy made me feel. I had work to do, for Christ’s sake.
I slipped past the bouncer with the purple Mohawk. The guy was huge, with biceps for days, and he normally worked the front of the Playground, so maybe he needed a little break in the action sometimes too.
I surveyed the space as I stepped behind the bar. The Underground was quieter, the lighting lower, the mood more subdued, and tonight I welcomed it. It was a speakeasy fashioned after prohibition days and had a bit of an exclusive vibe with a whole password thing, which I totally dug. The password was posted daily on our Instagram page, and I didn’t keep up regularly enough to know what it’d changed to this weekend. Depending on Chet’s mood, it was either something sexy like cock ring or political like Harvey Milk.
The clientele in general was more…sophisticated, I guess the word would be, and Chet employed a piano player and crooner most nights to set the mood. The drinks were also pricier, the flavors more complicated. Chet had hired a professional mixologist to create them for our menu, and we had all trained under her. It took me a bit to get the ingredients down, but once I did, I had return customers requesting The Flapper or Jazz Hands, two of our most popular cocktails using higher-end liquor.
Speaking of which, a couple of older gentlemen approached the bar. “Hey, Dane.”
“Nice to see you.” They had been together for twenty years, they’d once told me, and seemed like a happy couple. Apparently, they sometimes played with thirds on weekends and had put out feelers, but I’d turned them down. I tried not to hook up with customers, and besides, I wasn’t into threesomes. Not that there was anything wrong with throuples or open relationships—consenting adults and all that.
I’d bet Jesse loved them, though. More hands, mouths, and ogling of his tight little body. Fuck, even down here I couldn’t escape thoughts of him. “What can I get you?”
After ordering their usual, they occupied a table in a quiet corner just as the music began and our singer Tommy started crooning some Frank Sinatra song. He had a set of pipes on him and could really set the tone for the crowd. The seats were filling fast, and soon enough it would be standing-room only. After each song, the patrons clapped enthusiastically; his tip jar would be filled to the brim by night’s end.
During his break, Tommy made his way to the bar like he always did to get some water. I had it ready for him, with an extra squeeze of lemon, just how he liked it. Once he guzzled half the contents, his fingers cupped his throat. “Think I’m coming down with something.”
“Bummer.” I refilled his glass. “No way could I tell. You sounded great.”
“Thanks.” He winked. “Hope it doesn’t screw up my practices this week.”
I leaned over to hear him better. “Oh yeah? What for this time?”
Tommy was a theater rat and always going on auditions. I wondered if he should try a larger market, but he seemed content to stay in the area, which offered plenty, I guess, though I wouldn’t know one way or another. My friend Craig loved musicals, but I had only ever seen one or two in my life, which Tommy would probably razz me about.