Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Clive lays down a line of lemon drops for a group of friends on a girls’ night. Romeo is down at the other end serving a group of guys out for a good time who are eyeing the girls. I hear him telling them to buy the ladies their drinks and then to introduce themselves before he has the pleasure. “Once they meet me, you have no chance.”
His arrogance is well backed by years of having it reaffirmed. He’s not called Romeo for nothing. His parents called it the minute they met him. The ladies have been falling for him ever since.
As for me, something’s got to change. I need to spend less time working in the front or less in the back, but doing both is wearing me down. I think it’s time to have a full-time manager come on board. Eddie’s always been my right hand man without complaint. I’ll meet with him soon to give him the news he’s been working for.
I check on the far end of the bar where two women have been waiting longer than I like. “Sorry about the wait. What can I get you?”
I’ve seen the light haired brunette before. Somewhere, though I can’t place it. Her lips are fire engine red and draw my attention. As her tongue dips out, she leans against the bar. Our eyes meet, hers looking me over before she asks, “What do you recommend?”
Normally I’d rattle off my standard for women with her hair—rum and coke, but I have a feeling she’s not looking for that drink tonight. Her confidence exudes the bright lip color, so I take a guess, “Vodka martini?”
“Extra olives?”
“You got it.”
Her friend wants the same, so I get to concocting their drinks. I overhear her friend talking to her about the latest episode of the reality show red-lips is on. That’s where I’ve seen her. I’m not one to watch a lot of tele but I have a few guilty pleasures and trash TV at 3:30 a.m. is the perfect sedative after a long shift. I put five olives in each glass and then pour the liquid over the top. When I set the drinks down in front of them, red lips says, “Extra dirty. Just how I like it.”
My feelings may be all mixed up after meeting Virginia, but I’m not dense. I know a come on when I hear it and just as I’m about to slip into my old lines now and maybe her later, I realize my mind is blank.
No lines.
No funny comebacks.
No sexual innuendoes.
Holy shit. Am I broken?
Two weeks ago I was happily chugging along minding my own business except when a pretty woman wanted me to mind hers. Now, PMV—post meeting Virginia—I’m standing in front a celebrity—although minor fame—she’s gorgeous and hitting on me and I have no response other than, “Keep the tab open?”
Her expression falls. A credit card is handed to me, and she replies, “Thanks.”
When I turn around and enter her card into the register, the women start talking to each other again, “I heard he was easy.”
Easy?
There’s that damn word again, but used in a way I never thought I’d hear in regard to me.
Red lips whispers, “I heard he was the best. I want the best.”
“He doesn’t seem interested.”
Her huff is heard and I move to the other end of the bar. Tapping Clive on the shoulder, I say, “Take over the two at the end for me.”
Leaning back, he glances down the long line of the bar, then back to me. With his eyebrow cocked, he asks, “You sure?”
“Yes. I’m sure.”
While filling a pint glass, he keeps tabs on them. “What’s wrong with them?”
“Nothing.” I chuckle, restocking the wine glasses.
“But they’re hot and you’re tossing them to me?”
“They have their own minds, you know. I can’t toss them to anyone. I’m just not interested.”
“Why not?”
“Clive,” I gripe. “Enough. Will you take care of them or not?”
“Sorry,” he says, with his hands up. “I’ll take over.”
My annoyance has reached a peak, but I try to blow it off and calm down. “Thank you.”
“It’s almost sad to see it go, but I’m happy for you.” He claps me on the back and takes someone’s order.
I set another pitcher down for the guys at the end, and then add it to their tab. When Clive turns to ring up the drinks, I ask, “See what go?”
“Your pride. Your drive. The good times. We’ll remember them fondly. You fought hard, my friend, but it’s time to surrender.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Rule number two.”
“Pfft. Rule number two is firmly in place. Like stronger than ever. My feelings don’t even dip into that lake, much less swim there.”
“Would that be the lake of love? You sure you’re not already skinny dipping with your heart on your sleeve?”