Dirty Games: A BWWM Romance (3 page)

It also didn’t help that no one in her family had any idea what she was no doing for a living. Hell, they all thought she was working at a fast food restaurant. She had been brought up in a very strict Christian household where she had been expected to find a husband right after high school and save herself until her wedding night. She obviously had no intention of doing any of that, but it had always been a challenge to try and shake that belief system from her train of thought.

The beautiful woman in charge of the lottery draw was speaking through a microphone, calling numbers, when suddenly, Wes’s hand came down on her shoulder and squeezed.

“Hey there, Rosie.”

Rose smiled briefly. “Hey. Business okay?”

“Never been better,” Wes grinned, but he wasn’t looking at the lottery, he was glancing back at the studio’s door. “You know what, I can take the bar tonight. You take off early, mingle, and have fun.”

“Uh… but… no, Wes, really, I’m okay.”

“Well, you work six days a week, and you have college on top of that. It’s a good night. Me and the other guys can manage.”

Rose bit her lower lip, unnerved and agitated at the same time. “Wes, really. I just… I wouldn’t know what to do.”

“I’m sure you could find something to do tonight,” Wes said with a wink.

Rose shook her head. “If you don’t need me, I’m just going… home.” She knew that she sounded defeated, almost, and she wished she could kick herself in the ass. Way to look like a loser.

Wes’s grin faded in a genuinely concerned, if knowing, look. “Rose.”

Rose swallowed hard. God, she really hoped she hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Yes?”

“I’m worried about you. And Zenobia is, too.”

“Why?”

“You just don’t seem to ever have any fun,” Wes said easily, leaning on the bar counter, arms crossed over his chest. “I mean, I know I’m only your boss and all that, but I worry.”

Rose blushed, shifting on her feet. She was spared answering for a moment by the arrival of a couple of clients, and both she and Wes quickly prepared their drinks, smiles firmly in place. Rose didn’t dare look at Wes as she worked, the sounds of the lottery were cushioned by the agitated rush in her ears. Once the guests had finally moved on, Rose finally turned back again to face her boss.

“I don’t… have many friends,” she confessed then, rubbing the back of her neck without glancing up. “It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault.”

Zenobia had finally emerged from the studio, and was walking briskly toward them, looking at the back of her boyfriend’s head with amused, if warning eyes. Wes looked behind him when he heard the division to the bar flap open, and grinned at Zenobia, wrapping his arm around her waist.

“Hi.”

“What’re you doing to her?”

“Me? Nothing.”

Rose smiled at their antics, the knot in her stomach giving way slightly.

“Don’t listen to him, Rose. He’s being an… well, he’s being his annoying self, that’s who he’s being.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t,” Wes said, eyes bright with mischief. “Come on, Rose, you don’t have a boyfriend now, do you?”

Rose fumbled with the cocktail shaker and nearly dropped it at the question, her blush spreading from her cheekbones to her neck and chest, the rush of heat quickly melting into sweat. She didn’t even see or hear Zenobia reproaching Wes, too wrapped up in her own embarrassment.

“Rose, please don’t mind him. He’s being a dick right now.”

Rose mumbled something unintelligible.

“What?”

“Leave her alone” Zenobia demanded calmly, but Wes was not to be deterred.

“I didn’t catch that.”

Rose looked between him and Zenobia again, turning redder and redder.

“Uh…never…”

“What?”

“I said, never.” Rose swallowed. “I never…never even did it.”

Did she really just admit to her bosses that she was a virgin? God, how much more awkward and embarrassing could she possibly get.

There was silence after that. It was as though the music had jarred to a stop and everyone had turned to look at Rose. It wasn’t the case, of course. People were too busy picking up their keys and wandering off to the upper rooms of the club, and the music was still strong and loud, but for Rose, it could’ve very well been the center ring in a circus with a single spotlight on her.

Wes blinked, taken aback by her blunt answer, then apparently managed to pull himself together and tried to play it cool.

“Oh. Oh! Okay. Um. Yeah. Okay. Well then, we need to get onto that.”

“Get on to—what? No, uh, no, I-I mean…” Rose stuttered, not understanding what Wes was on about.

“Wes, you can’t be serious right now.”

“I am. Come on, you need to live a little. How old are you?”

“Twenty-four,” Rose replied.

Wes was silent as he tapped his chin with a finger, pondering what the best course of action was.

“Okay,” he said at last. “You’re taking a week off, starting now.”

“What?”

“For the next week, you will come to work, but you will enjoy the club as though you were a customer. Everything on me.”

Rose hesitated, looking between the two of them, trying to figure out whether they were joking or not.

“What?” she repeated, feebly, not really believing what she was hearing.

“Are you on a quest to mess with her life?” Zenobia asked, a hint of exasperation creeping up in her tone.

“Nope. Just to get you to have some fun,” Wes added, turning to Rose again.

Zenobia shook her head and took half a step forward, looking way more understanding.

“I think what my boyfriend is trying to say, with his usual eloquence, is that you need to live a little; you can’t just watch things happening around you. Trust me, I did it for long enough, and it never pays off.”

The words rang honest, and, sadly, hit too close to home for Rose to ignore them. She swallowed and lowered her eyes, realizing for a jolt that it was the first time someone ever cared to notice how monotone her life was. And the first time someone thought about doing something for Rose, no questions asked.

“Come on.” Wes encouraged. “You can go change in the studio while I arrange for your lucky night,” he added with a wink.

Rose hesitated, then nodded again, finally deciding to cross the proverbial threshold and give in to Wes’s plan.

It was with a thrill of foreboding that she walked into the studio and started taking off her bartender’s uniform as though she’d unconsciously agreed to something that was going to change her life, irrevocably and forever.

****

Brent kept his keys in his pocket, surveying the club with bright, attentive eyes. He was so used to the night scene at Casa Blanca’s that he didn’t even go through the draw anymore. He just picked up a key, and whoever was waiting behind the door was fine in his books.

Sometimes though, he liked pursuing the clientele. Tonight was one of those nights. “Hey,” he sat in a stool before the bar, nodding at Wes with a grin.

“Brent,” Wes greeted, beaming. “How’re you doing, friend?”

“Just fine,” Brent said easily, shaking his bangs out of his eyes. “Checking out the scene, the usual. Hi, Zenobia.”

Zenobia nodded and waved, easy and comfortable behind the bar as though she’d always been there. Brent sometimes found it hard to believe that she and Wes had only been together four months. That was like a lifespan of five minutes, and yet they worked together like a well-oiled machine.

Brent wasn’t as jaded as people made him out to be. Sure, he was a real player, and he had no qualms about admitting it. Relationships weren’t for him, but he was happy to dip and taste whatever flavor he could find while he still could. He was nearing his forties, though nearly everyone who first met him said he didn’t look a day over thirty. Of course, there were lots of people who thought he was too old, some even saying he was having a mid-life crisis. Brent didn’t care about them. What he cared about was getting booze flowing in his veins, grabbing a warm body for the night and fucking until he passed out.

That’s when he saw her: standing by the far end of the bar, talking quietly to Zenobia, with long red hair and pants so tight they looked as if they were painted on. It was the very first time Brent really noticed her, yet he knew he’d seen her before. She stood out in that kind of place, mostly because of her slightly nervous posture, an attempt not to draw attention to herself—certainly a new practice at Casa Blanca’s. She was young, maybe a bit too young for Brent, and looked wide-eyed and innocent enough to draw all sorts of predators to her like honey for the bees. Yeah, he’d have one of those.

Brent signaled Wes over. “Who’s that gorgeous creature over there?” he asked him, nodding toward where Zenobia was talking to her. “She looks familiar, but I don’t think I’ve met her.”

“Not in these circumstances, probably.” Wes said with a wink. “That’s Rose. Our back-up bartender. I gave her some time off to have fun.”

Brent sat back, appraising his target. “How come I’ve never seen her before?”

“She goes to all sorts of lengths so people won’t notice her.” Wes grinned. “Rosie’s a bit of a loner. We’re trying to change that.”

“Really?” Brent smirked and took his drink, downing it whole. “Well, I sure as hell noticed.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

****

Zenobia put another highball in front of Rose, who shook her head and pushed it away.

“No, I can’t, I’ve had enough.”

“This one’s from that guy over there,” Zenobia said as she turned to where Wes was talking to the newcomer.

“The blonde?”

Rose had seen him, alright. She’d been watching him pretty much every night that he came to Casa Blanca’s, excusing herself to the bathroom to rub one out every time he would take off to the secret rooms upstairs with some new companion on his arm. She would imagine what wicked games they would be playing, blushing to herself as she replaced Brent’s partner with herself in her mind’s eye.

“Oh,” she said simply, not knowing what to do, her stomach clenching as a shiver raked down his spine.

Zenobia winked at her “Will you drink it?”

Rose looked over at Brent, startled to find him staring straight at her. Instinctively, she reached for the drink and downed it in one go. She set the glass down and waited, her left leg shaking in a jittery, nervous motion.

Brent didn’t so much as blink as he ran his tongue hungrily over his bottom lip. Brent wasn’t one to wait for an invitation. He watched those pretty green eyes widen and grinned. He halted a few steps away from Rose. Still interested, but still not crossing any sort of personal space: well, at least not for now.

“Hey,” he called with a sultry, slow smile. Rose’s eyes skimmed from the few open buttons on Brent’s shirt down to the jeans that clung to his strong, lean legs, and took the seat next to him, nudging at his fingers.

“Hi.” The voice surprised her. It was low, raspy, and hot enough to slice right through Brent and pump straight in his blood. “I see you… I mean, you come here often.”

Brent chuckled lowly at the shy statement. Rose was looking uncomfortable, and her attempt at boldness intrigued Brent more than the sleek routine he was used to from other partners he had.

“Every other night.”

Those plump lips that had enchanted him in the first place twitched, pulling into a coy, half-smile.

“Cute,” Brent said with a grin. “Do you always drink like that, sweetheart?” He tipped his head in the direction of the drink Rose had just left behind.

“Like what?”

“Like you needed a little liquid courage.”

Rose’s eyes shifted hastily downwards, and she licked her lips nervously. Brent followed the pink tongue as it darted out over full, pretty lips, and reached out to run his thumb brazenly over a plump lower lip.

“Wanna know something?” he asked, feeling the sharp intake of breath from Rose’s lips. “You’re the prettiest thing in this room.”