Devil's Kiss (6 page)

I think I’m impressing Franchise with my bartending skills, though that has less to do with my talent and more to do with his clientele’s preference for beer and straight liquor. The most complicated order I’ve had all night was when Stick ordered a double.

The
Widowmakers
brothers have all been buying me shots, but after my third I started spitting them back into the empty beer bottle that I’m pretending to use as a chaser. It’s a trick I learned back in New Hampshire. There’s only been one new thing to learn: Franchise seems to have a running list in his head of who gets to drink free, who can keep a tab, and who must always pay cash immediately. It’s a long list, and seems to change based on his mood.

I glance up and down the bar. For the moment, no one’s trying to engage me in conversation, so I just clean some glasses. I spot a familiar face at the end nearer the entrance and walk down.

“Hey, Stacy!” I smile.

“Hey!” she waves back. “Oh, I love your top!”

“Thanks! It’s one of my only black shirts, to be honest,” I tell her. “Hey, want to go shopping sometime this week? It would be nice to have a few options.”

“Yes, definitely!” she says, “Boulevard Mall has some good shops, we should go there together!”

“Awesome! Now, what can I get for you?” I ask. “Give me a little challenge.”

“Oh god, I don’t know...a cosmo?”

“One cosmo, coming up,” I say, grabbing the house vodka and a shaker. Stacy glances toward the other end of the bar.

“Just so you know, Franchise is watching you and smiling,” she tells me.

“Yeah? Really?” I ask, straining the drink into a martini glass and curling a lemon twist onto the top.

“Now he’s nodding. He looks happy,” Stacy goes on.

“Are you fucking with me right now?” I ask her.

“No, really!” she insists.

I glance over at Franchise, who is indeed looking at me with a little grin. I slide the drink over to Stacy, who hands me a ten. I grab her change at the register and hand it back over.

“You look like a total pro,” she says.

“Thanks!” I reply, “I did used to be a cocktail waitress.”

“I don’t think I could do that!” she says, sipping her pink drink. “Weren’t guys always hitting on you?”

“Well, sometimes,” I shrug, “But in general the job suits me. I like talking to people, you know?”

“Oh, there’s Stick!” she says brightly, “I’ll be right back.” She leaves to go say hi to my brother at the pool table.

Stacy was right to ask about getting hit on. Sometimes the constant attention as a cocktail waitress did get annoying, but I really did handle it okay. Except for with Richard, of course, but that was a whole different story. He’d seemed so normal when we had first met at the bar. Nice, funny. And he was a cop, for christ’s sake. I’d thought I was being extra safe by going out with him.

And the first couple months had really been great. He really liked to spoil me, take me to nice restaurants, open doors for me, send me flowers for no reason. And the sex, that had been really great too. A little heavy on the bondage, but hey, I like that now and then. The first warning hadn’t come until he showed up after my shift at the bar, and threatened my boss. I was almost fired.

Then, when I tried to pull away, dial back the intensity a little, that’s when it got bad. The sex veered into disturbing territory, the constant phone calls and texts started. I broke up with him in a public place because I thought it would be the safe thing to do. But then he started following me, leaving crazy messages on my phone. He would show up at my bar every night and sit in the corner, staring at me. My boss was too scared to kick him out, so I finally called his partner, Stan. The bar visits stopped, but he’d follow me everywhere else. I couldn’t date, I couldn’t go anywhere.

A flash of movement at the other end of the bar catches my attention. That tall, hippie-looking guy, Tree, is signaling for me. He’s standing with someone who has his back toward me. By the size of that person, it can only be West. I walk over to him and lean forward on the bar.

“Hey, Tree,” I say, “What can I get for you?”

“She remembered my name, now isn’t that nice,” he says with a smile to West.

“Oh, I could never forget you, Tree,” I say with a grin. He has such an easygoing way about him.

“Two Coors,” Tree says.

I quickly pull two from the tap and slide them over to him. I know Tree and West both drink free.

“So, you spoken for yet?” Tree asks.

“Spoken for?” I say, cocking my head.

“I know your brother warned off all the
Widowmaker
s,” Tree goes on, “But I’m sure a girl like you has other interested parties.”

“Maybe I do,” I allow. Tree glances over to the pool table.

“Olive, it’s been a pleasure,” he says, “But your brother has been running his mouth off about how he’s going to beat me at pool, and I’ve gotta set him straight.” He ambles over to the pool table where Stacy is standing with Stick.

“So, should I call you Grace while you’re here?” West asks, his eyes sparkling over the rim of his glass as he takes a sip.

Ah. So we’re finally going to talk about it, are we?

“That won’t be necessary, I think,” I say, “As long as you remember who really I am, of course.”

“Hey, you can’t hold that against me,” West says with a smile. “You look like a different person now.”

“And you look exactly the same,” I reply, “But larger. And with more tattoos.”

“So,” West says, his voice dropping low in his sculpted chest, “Why’d you give me a fake name?”

I blush and look down at the bar, unable to meet his eyes. It’s too embarrassing. I mean, what can I say?
“I lied so I could sleep with you?” “I’d been dreaming about what it would be like for years and I finally saw my chance?”
No. I would forever lose any power or mystery I might still have with him. And I’ve been so successfully nonchalant the last couple days.

“Let’s just say I wanted to satisfy my curiosity,” I say, “And I thought if you knew who I was, that wouldn’t happen.”

“Huh,” is all he says, studying my face. I feel my pulse start to quicken. God, I wish he didn’t have such a strong effect on me. It’s like he has a string wrapped around my heart and he’s pulling me towards him, bit by bit. “So, you going on another date with that Kyle guy?”

“We’ll see,” I reply, “He asked me out again for this weekend. He’s nice.”

“There’s that ‘nice’ word again,” West smirks.

“What’s wrong with nice?” I laugh.

“Nothing at all, if
nice
is what you’re looking for,” he shoots back, “But something tells me it’s not.
Grace
.”

I glare at him. Because I know he’s right. Honestly, the only reason I kissed Kyle was because I was really trying to make some sparks fly where they didn’t exist. I mean, he
is
nice. And smart and cute...I just don’t feel that fire with him. I want to, and I tried to...but I just don’t.

“Well, at least
nice
would give me a ride home in the morning,” I retort, and then walk away before he can answer. He gets under my skin so quickly.

I grab some beers for a couple more customers and then see Stick and Stacy waving me over from where they’re standing with West.

“Another Cosmo?” I ask Stacy, as I walk up to them.

“Honestly, the Cosmo was delicious, but I’m just not that into vodka,” Stacy admits. “How about a Coors?”

I laugh and pour three more beers for them.

“Hey, can you take Olive home tonight?” Stick asks West.

“Oh, come on, are we really going to do that?” I protest.

“Yes! You agreed!” Stick responds with a smile. “Besides, I specifically gave you a ride here so you wouldn’t be able to leave without one of us.”

“You are such a creep, you know that?” I sigh, “If I weren’t at work right now, and a total professional, I would punch you so hard—”

“It’s my fault,” Stacy interjects. “He’s taking me home early because I’ve got this client who always has to come in early before she goes to work.”

“It’s not your fault—” I start, but West interrupts me.

“I can take her. It’s no problem,” he says with a smile, “We’re going to the same place anyway, right?”

“See? All settled,” Stick says. “I’ll be over at Stacy’s tonight. See you two later.” He and Stacy down their beers and head out, pawing each other.

“So, what were you doing for those eight years in New Hampshire?” West asks. He’s making this whole disinterested thing I’m doing very difficult.

“Well, I graduated high school,” I begin, “Did a few semesters of college. Wasn’t for me. Took odd jobs here and there, trying to figure out what I was good at.”

“Did you find it?” he asks.

“Not really, no. I mean, I guess I’m good at this,” I say, sweeping my arm across the bar. “I like meeting people, managing my own time. But I don’t think I could be a bartender for the rest of my life. What about you? Cars are your passion?”

West pauses, wiping a bead of sweat from his glass. “Cars. I just feel a certain quiet when I’m working on them. Time goes by quickly, and I feel this...flow. I guess that means it’s my passion. But passion, I usually think of that as something wild. And with my cars, all I feel is peace.”

He’s speaking slowly, carefully, studying my eyes as he talks to make sure I understand him. Then, in an instant, the look in his eye changes. “I guess I just look for passion in other places.”

I forget to breathe for a moment. Thankfully, Franchise calls me over to explain something about the finicky register. Saved. The rest of the night, I’m drawn back to West whenever I’m not with a customer. He’s more thoughtful than I remember, often pausing to think about what he’s going to say before he says it. I watch as several women come over to him, leaning on him or pulling the next stool over closely. He dips his head to talk with them, but they always leave after a few minutes. I wish I could hear their conversations, but it’s tough when I don’t want to look like I’m listening.

The last few patrons filter out at one or so. It is a Tuesday, after all. It’s just me, West, and Franchise, who’s showing me how to close up. The house lights are on and the music’s off.

“I’ll give you keys this weekend so you won’t need me around to open and close,” Franchise promises. “You okay to get home?”

“West is taking me,” I reply.

His eyes flick back and forth between us for a moment, then he nods. “Well, see you Thursday,” he says.

I gather my purse from where I’ve stashed it behind the bar and West slides off the stool he’s been occupying all night. He holds the door open for me and behind us, Franchise shuts off the lights. We walk in silence to West’s bike, and I see Stick has left my helmet on it for me. I pull it onto my head and West starts his bike. My stomach flips a little as I wrap my arms around his torso, acutely aware of every inch of my body that presses against his.

We snake through the streets, darting along like a single shadow. I remember to lean into the curves as we speed up, and also use them as an excuse to wrap my arms more tightly around West. I warn myself to remember that West and I would never work out, but I find myself relaxing against him all the same. I close my eyes as the combination of his warmth and the bike’s vibrations ease the tensions of my body, tired from my long shift.

Too quickly, or maybe just in time, we’re pulling up to the house. I know something has passed in the silence as our bodies were pressed against each other, some kind of connection. I hurriedly take off my helmet and walk ahead of him to the front door, fumbling to get my keys out of my purse. I don’t trust myself around him right now. I finally get my keys in the lock and turn the doorknob. But as I’m pushing the door open, I hear quick footsteps behind me. I turn just in time to see West a couple feet away from me, approaching fast. In a heartbeat, his arms are around me, and his mouth is on mine.

I leave the keys in the lock and wrap my arms around his shoulders. I dig my hands into his hair, desperately pulling him against me. His hands are on my ass, pulling me against his hard cock, and his tongue is filling my mouth. All I want is for him to fuck me right here, against the door frame. I want to feel his naked body pressed against mine, every inch of him. He reaches one hand up the front of my shirt, grasping for my breast, past the point of being gentle. I feel his thumb brush against my nipple—