"No-that's his name?"
"I don't know what the fuck his name is. That's just what I call him. Anyway, he comes in on Monday nights sometimes. He sits at the end of the bar, older guy, balding and handsy."
"I gotcha. So I should watch myself with him."
"I don't want you to serve him at all. Brick, Mike, or I get his drinks."
"Evan, I appreciate it, but I can handle myself."
He released an aggravated breath. "I have no doubt you can, Price, but here's the thing, if he gets grabby with you, I will lose my shit. Do me a favor and listen to me on this one."
I swallowed, both touched and confused by what he said. He was making it too easy to fall for him. "Sure, Evan."
"Thank you." He kissed my forehead.
I almost embraced him, but stopped myself because he stood right away.
He paused before he closed the door. "Are you nervous about tonight?" His voice was much lighter than I was used to.
"Why would I be nervous?"
"You'll be on your own. It's different when you're not shadowing someone."
"I can do this."
"I'm sure you can, but ask for help if you need it. Everyone needs help once in a while," he said before closing the door.
* * * *
Why the hell had I thought I could do this? A bartender had called in sick, requiring me to make many of my own drinks. People yelled out names of things I'd never heard of. What the hell is an Anus Burner, and why would you want to drink one? Gross.
Tilla made it looked so easy. How did she do that?
"I'll be right back with your drinks," I said to the giggling girls in a corner booth.
"Can you make sure there's actually alcohol in them this time?" a gorgeous, petite girl asked me. Her obnoxious comment didn't match her appearance, but then again, liquor had a way of peeling back all the pretty things.
"All the shots are measured out."
She crossed her arms, egged on by her girlfriends. "Then obviously you're doing something wrong. Evan makes the drinks perfect. The ones you've brought us are weak." She was talking about the drinks, but in my head I heard, You're weak.
My teeth clenched so hard, I could probably crack open a nut. "He's busy," I said, pointing to the stage. Really, I wanted to tell her he was busy with me.
I stormed back to the bar.
"You okay, Price?" Evan asked during one of his breaks when I was getting the gaggle of girls another round.
"Fine."
"You don't look fine … Actually, scratch that, you do look fine. Stressed out maybe, but always very very fine. Need help?"
"These girls at the corner booth keep complaining about the drinks. How much alcohol do they think is in a daiquiri? Why don't they girl up and order a real drink?"
"Yeah, I know them."
"I'm sure you do."
"What does that mean?"
I was pissed off and it was coming out in this horrible, jealous, passive-aggressive way that I hated. I ignored him, getting the glasses.
"They said you make stronger drinks. Do you not measure?"
"I can eye it because I've done it for so long, but I never give more than what they pay for. Bars lose money when you start giving away liquor. There isn't that much of a profit margin in the first place."
"Where the hell in the metal thingy?"
Evan chuckled, sliding it to me. "It's called a jigger."
"Whatever." I doled out the liquid in the silver cup, but before I poured it into the daiquiri he grasped my wrist.
"Let me show you something." He poured most of the shot into the drink then held up the metal glass where a tiny amount of liquid remained.
"You're giving them less alcohol? How is that going to help?"
"It's a bartender trick." He placed a straw in the drink and poured the remaining contents of the jigger straight into it. "The first sip from the straw is pure alcohol. They'll think the rest of the drink is equally strong."
I laughed, shaking my head. "They won't fall for that."
"They will and they have. Why do you think they ask for me?"
I knew why they asked for him, but I kept that opinion to myself. I placed the drinks on my tray. He bent close to my ear. "Tell me what's wrong."
"It's not your stuff. I'm feeling vulnerable."
"Why?"
"Because being with you is like … being with a … a-"
"A rock star?" he offered.
"I was going to say porn star but yeah, a little of both I guess."
"Having second thoughts?"
My mind said yes, but my mouth mumbled the word no.
He took the tray from me and set it down. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling my back against his hard chest. "Don't let your head get in the way of what we have, Price. Because in my head, it's only you that's taking up all the space." He kissed the back of my neck, causing a shiver to course down my spine. "Replace those troubled thoughts."
"With what?"
He took my hands and placed them on the bar. The bulge in his pants was present at my lower back. "When everyone leaves tonight, I'm gonna fuck you on this bar."
His husky voice and the feel of his lips on my neck made the temperature soar.
"That worked," I choked.
"Good. Remember, Price, we own the night."
When I walked away, my legs were wobbly, proving it wasn't just my drinks that were weak.
"Now this is what I call a drink," the obnoxious girl said after she took the first sip.
"Evan taught me," I replied, enjoying the way her smile tightened.
I kept glancing at the stage for the rest of the night. Damn … I wanted the night to be over. Luckily, the bar hummed with enough activity that the hours went by fast. I paused when Evan played a song I'd never heard, his deep voice dripping with emotion. The lyrics were so coincidental that it was apparent he meant them for me, but even with that thought, I gazed around the bar aware that every girl in the place was imagining the same thing.
"What song is this?" I asked Tilla.
"You've never heard this?"
I shook my head.
"It's We Owned the Night by Lady Antebellum. Sexy and sweet, don't you think?"
It was mean of him to sing a song this beautiful. He was giving me false hope. Then again, it was me who'd asked for this to feel like a real relationship. I'd set the rules and now I was complaining about them. Girl up, Billie.
When he sang The Sex is Good by Saving Abel, I sang along in my head. That was a more appropriate choice for the theme song of Evan and Billie.
Afterward, Evan thanked everyone for coming and announced they were done.
People demanded an encore. Evan smiled, his lips close to the microphone, "Mike is going do the encore, aren't you, Mike?"
"What?" Mike asked, then realization hit him. "Oh yeah." He started the tune to Closing Time. The crowd murmured their disappointment in response.
"You guys go on home. Billie and I can lock up," Evan said, once it was just the four of us.
"We'll stay. You guys did it last night," Tilla replied.
"And we want to do it again," Evan muttered in a voice low enough only I could hear.
I struggled not to crack up.
Evan rushed around, putting up chairs and sweeping under tables so fast that even Mike said we finished in record time.
"Tomorrow is our night off," Tilla said. "But Evan and Brick can handle things. Don't be afraid to ask them any questions."
"Are you doing anything fun?" I asked her.
"No," Mike said too fast. Tilla made a face at him.
"We're going to my parents' house for dinner," she explained.
"Are you bringing her dad a nice bottle of wine, Mike?" Evan asked in an amused voice.
Tilla laughed and Mike scowled.
I looked between them. "I'm sensing an inside joke here."
Mike set up four shot glasses on the counter. "I'll tell you, but let's have a shot first. I can use one to get ready for tomorrow. Tilla's dad doesn't like me."
I couldn't imagine anyone not liking Mike. He was easy-going and funny.
"He loves you, baby," Tilla said. She looked at me. "You have to know my father. He's sort of like Bernie Mac in that movie Guess Who."
"I've seen it," I said.
"More like Samuel L. Jackson in Pulp Fiction," Mike muttered. "The man is scary."
"Tell me about it," Evan said. "I almost didn't ask her out 'cause of that man. I swear he had a rifle with my name on it."
"He has several dedicated to me," Mike said.
I looked between Evan and Tilla. "You two dated?"
"A long time ago," Tilla said. "We're definitely better as friends."