I’m trembling as I stare up at him, but I lean in close, my body pressing against his as I angle my lips to his ear.
“You’re not getting rid of me so easy, Kaiden,” I swear, and I lower myself back to the floor, daring him to disagree.
He finally releases me before picking up the nearest pint glass and tossing it at the wall.
I shake and squeak as it shatters, flying into dozens of pieces.
Before I can even gather my words, though, he’s storming out the front door and leaving me to clean up his mess.
I’ve seen him mad before. Violent, even. But this is way more intense than anything else.
I move towards the nearest shards, starting to sweep them up with the grimy broom and dustpan as the rest of the bar goes back to their conversations. The music is loud and has a little bit of static to it, and it’s getting on my nerves, just like everything else here.
Just like everyone else here.
I don’t realize how fast I was breathing until I lean against the wall with the glass in the dustpan and feel my heart racing.
I know Kaiden’s only trying to protect me, but I’m trying to protect him, too. We’re all each other has...
The day I hate working most, so far, is always Saturday. I don’t know what it is. The run-of-the-mill Monday-Thursday drunks I’m getting used to, but Friday and Saturday night? It’s as if everyone is on cocaine.
Which, I guess, is entirely plausible.
I move to the next table, tray of drinks perched on my arm as I smile. A woman who’s here every night smiles at me with her orange lips and blue eyes, taking her gin and tonic.
“Thanks, honey,” she says with an exaggerated wink. She’s always hoping I’ll let her know who the big spenders are, and she’s always nice, so sometimes I point her in the direction of someone especially hammered.
Despite how much I hate being called honey, she’s one of the better customers, and I smile at her, then at the two other women at her side.
“Shots, ladies?” I ask with a phony grin. It’s only eleven, and I have four more hours of this routine before I can finally, blissfully relax. And despite it breaking, like, every state law I know of, Ryder’s acting like giving me Sunday off is a favor, after working seventeen shifts in a row.
I can’t wait just to soak in a tub and not have to go into work. I was thin when I started, but now I have muscles in places I never did before, my calves and arms more sculpted.
But no one can say I don’t suffer for my figure.
“Yes! We’re celebrating!” the blonde to my regular’s left says with a smile as she reaches up with grabby hands towards the tray.
"Everything you have!" the blonde says way too loud, but I smile politely and quickly count up the drinks on my tray.
"It's $65 for the lot," I say with a smile, and the blonde throws me a crisp, $100 bill.
"Keep the change!"
And if there's any way to a waitress' heart, it's that.
I smile as I put the tray down on the table before tucking the $35 into my pocket. I bring the rest to the register and go back to grab more shots.
Maybe tonight isn't going to be so bad.
Though when I hear the hooping and hollering in the back, I get a prickle down my spine, and I immediately know how wrong I am.
I'm used to drunk guys, high guys, loud guys, and leering guys, but once you're around them enough, you know the signs. The slight, little differences between someone just being drunk, and someone being dangerously drunk.
Between someone being high, and someone being stoned out of their mind.
Between a guy being loud and perverted... and those guys.
I glance over my shoulder at them, feeling the dread begin to build in the pit of my stomach as I top off the last of my shots.
They're at the table with the regular and her friends, skimming drinks from them. That, on its own? Normal night.
But the way he's touching blondie sends a chill up my spine.
Ryder's behind the bar, just watching placidly, as if simply waiting to see what I'd do. And knowing what I know about him... I don't want to do a single thing to upset him or earn his ire.
So when he turns his head to look at me, his brow raised, I know it's time for action.
I take the steps across the bar, returning to where I was just moments before, and I give the loudest, leeringest, drunkest guy I've ever seen my most dazzling smile. He's clearly over twice my age and looks older than that, with the heavy lines and the vacant, blue eyes.
He's a guy that's seen a lot of hatred and hard times, that's for sure.
"Did you need more drinks?" I ask politely, begging my voice not to quiver, but my intuition is telling me he's not a good man. He's not someone I should even be talking to or getting the attention of.
"Well hi there, precious," he says with a slur and a wobble as he removes his hand from blondie's shoulder to go for mine. He's off balance and nearly falls over, supported only by me. He makes me nearly spill all my shots as he does, and I cry out.