Wasted (2 page)

“
Rarely drink? And you want
to be a bartender?”

“
Drinking’s not a
requirement,” she shot back.

Hawk drained the rest of his beer as he
stood, pushing the stool back with his movement. “Lexi, when it
comes to Mason, you’ve got to give as good as you get.” He set his
empty bottle down and fished money from his pocket. “Keep the
change.” He nodded at me, and then pivoted around and faced Lexi.
“Guess I’ll see you around?”

“
I’ll be here.” She gave
him a smile and watched as he walked out of the bar.

“
You ready?” I asked,
drawing her attention back to me.

“
I’m ready.”

When she entered the bar area, I admired her
tight-fitting jeans and her snug jersey-style tee shirt. I went
over some of the bar back duties, like washing glasses, cleaning
the bar, restocking items, and replenishing garnishes.

“
So how long have you been
bartending?” she asked as she sliced lemons.

“
For about six years.
Spanky gave me a job as a bar back when I was eighteen. After a few
months, he let me start bartending.”

“
How did you know that’s
what you wanted to do?”

I glanced at her profile as she concentrated
on the lemons. Her dark hair was pushed behind her shoulders, and
her softly rounded cheeks made her seem young, though I imagined
that she was probably older than she looked.

“
It’s not that I wanted to
do it.” I shrugged my shoulders. “I just needed a job, and over the
years, I’ve figured out what people want. So I give it to them, and
they give me a good tip.”

“
And what do they want?”
Her hands stilled, and she studied my face as she waited on my
answer.

“
Most of them just want
someone to talk to, somebody that they can tell how their day went
or talk about their problems. Basically, they just want someone who
will listen.

“
If they’re with someone
else and they’re in deep conversation, then they may want nothing
more than someone who can give them service when they need it and
get their drinks right. I like to keep things interesting by adding
a little flair like the trick with opening the bottles.

“
When you’ve done it long
enough, you get a feel for how to treat each customer, and of
course, we have a lot of regulars, so that takes the guesswork out
of it once you get to know them. The bottom line is they have to
leave feeling better than they did when they got here, and I don’t
mean from the alcohol.”

She went back to cutting lemons. “So you
have to know how to read people?”

“
You definitely have to be
a people person if you want to make good tips. If you come in here
scowling because you’ve had a crappy day, you’re gonna drag them
down with you, which will definitely affect your tips.”

Business picked up, and I trained Lexi on as
many things as I could. Since Sex on the Beach was our daily
special, I taught her how to make one, and every time one was
ordered, I let her fix it. We were pretty busy for a Thursday
night, and by the time we closed and got everything cleaned and
stocked, we were both exhausted.

“
My feet are killing me,”
Lexi complained as she sat down at the bar. “If I had to carry one
more bucket of ice….”

I plopped her share of the tips down on the
counter. “You have to look at it like this: the more ice you carry,
the more tips you’re making.”

“
It’s hard to remember that
when the pain is so intense it’s shooting up my legs.”

I sat on the stool beside her. “Give me your
foot.”

“
What? Why?” She shook her
head. “There’s no way I’m giving you my foot.”

“
Why? Does it
stink?”

She smacked me playfully on the arm. “No, it
doesn’t stink.”

“
You have ugly feet?
Crooked toes? Warts?”

“
No!”

I patted my leg, motioning for her to lift
her foot and rest it on my thigh.

“
Fine,” she said, finally
obeying, “but I’m keeping my socks on.” I untied her shoe and
removed it, letting it drop to the floor. She wore black socks with
pink polka dots, and I cradled her small foot in my hands as my
thumbs stroked the bottom of her foot, working small circles over
the surface.

She moaned in delight. “That feels so
good.”

“
So you still want to be a
bartender?”

“
I never wanted to be a
bartender.”

“
Spanky kidnapped you,
tossed you over his shoulder, and forced you to work for
him?”

“
Of course not.”

I waited for her to elaborate, but instead,
she closed her eyes, enjoying the massage. “Ow,” she screeched,
jerking her foot and laughing. “That’s the best kind of hurt.”

I lightened my hold and
grinned as she relaxed her foot again. “Not the
best
kind,” I countered.

“
Is that why you do well in
tips?”

“
Is what why?”

“
Because you flirt and
charm the ladies?”

I chuckled, amused by her assessment. “I
told you that you have to be a people person to do this job
well.”

She switched feet, and I removed her other
shoe and massaged her foot. She groaned as I worked the pain
out.

“
Maybe you should’ve been a
massage therapist,” she said with her eyes closed.

Her comment amused me. She wasn’t the first
woman to tell me that I was good with my hands. “So do you live
around here?”

“
I used to. My father was
transferred when I was twelve. I always told myself that I would
move back one day. I just graduated from college a few months ago,
so here I am.”

I stopped stroking her foot and glared at
her like she was crazy. “You graduated from college and you came
here to get a job as a bartender?”

“
Not exactly.”

She wouldn’t be at the bar long. Nobody
spent all that time and money going to college, so that they could
bust their ass serving people behind a bar.

“
How long have you been
back?”

“
I just rolled into town
today.”

“
You already got a place to
live?”

“
No. I’m staying at the
hotel down the street until I can find something.” She straightened
up and pulled her foot out of my lap.

Standing, I retrieved her shoes and handed
them to her.

“
I tried to find a
one-bedroom apartment before I came, but I didn’t have any luck. I
thought it might be easier once I got here.”

“
Housing around here is a
little tight right now. They opened that new customer service
center on the edge of town. The place is huge, which is good
because they’ve brought a lot of new jobs to Creekview. The
downside?”

“
They’re attracting people
to the city and housing is being snatched up like free beer at a
frat party?”

“
Exactly, which is good for
the bartending business.”

“
But bad for someone who’s
just rolled into town hunting an apartment.”

“
They’re building some new
apartments near the customer service center, but I don’t think
they’ll be ready for a few more months. You can probably call them,
though, and get yourself added to their waiting list.”

“
They have a waiting list?”
I could hear the disappointment in her voice as she realized
getting an apartment might not be as easy as she
thought.

“
That’s what I hear from my
customers, and believe me, I hear just about everything here: who’s
sleeping with who, who got in a knock-down drag-out, who filed for
divorce, etcetera, etcetera. Gossip spreads faster than the warmth
from a swig of whiskey.”

“
I’ll have to check it out
in the morning.”

“
You know, I just happen to
be looking for a roommate. If you want to stay with me while you
find a place or while you wait on one of those new apartments,
you’re welcome to. The rent’ll be cheap, and I might even throw in
a foot massage here and there.”

“
A foot massage, huh?” She
cocked her head in thought. “That’s mighty tempting.”

“
It’s just a thought.” I
scanned the bar one more time to make sure everything was in
perfect order.

“
I’ll keep that in mind.”
She stood up, and we both scooted our stools up to the
bar.

Fishing my cell phone out of my pocket, I
asked her for her number, dialing it as she told me. It started
ringing. “Now, you’ve got my number. Call me if you want to move
in.”

“
Thanks.”

“
Let me tell Spanky we’re
leaving, and I’ll walk you to your car.”

I walked briskly toward the office, knocked
on the door, and popped my head in. “Hey, Spanky, I’m fixing to
walk Lexi out. You ready to leave?”

“
You kids go on. I’m going
to stay a little while longer.” He took his glasses off and laid
them on the desk. Then, he leaned back and folded his arms behind
his head, his chair squeaking with the movement.

“
Okay then. See you
later.”

“
See ya.”

I met Lexi back at the bar and walked her to
her car in the dimly lit parking lot. “See you tomorrow.”

“
Thanks, Mason.”

“
For what? Sex on the
Beach?”

“
It wasn’t very good, but I
do appreciate your effort.”

I chuckled at her unexpected response.
“Ouch.” I playfully pushed her shoulder. “You know it’s okay to
admit you like being on the beach with me,” I teased.

“
Are you one of
those
guys?” she
asked.

“
I don’t know who
those
guys are, but I can
guarantee you that I’m not one of them.”

She grunted. “We’ll see about that.”

The only thing I knew as well as bartending
was women. I studied her face. Her eyes were concealed by shadows,
and I wondered what guy had broken her heart.

Clenching my jaw, I slightly shook my head
as a realization hit me.

I probably was one
of
those
guys.

Chapter
2

Devil’s Handshake

Lexi

My alarm went off promptly at eight o’clock.
I’d wanted to take a steaming bath when I’d gotten back to the room
last night, but since the room’s cleanliness wasn’t quite up to par
for me, I’d opted for a shower, instead. After settling into bed,
I’d propped my computer across my lap and searched online for the
apartment complex Mason had mentioned. The idea of being in a brand
new place that hadn’t been occupied previously appealed to the OCD
side of me.

After making a quick phone call, I arranged
an appointment with the apartment manager for a walk-through of the
model apartment. I showered and dressed, and then I packed my
things and checked out of the hotel. An hour and a half later, I
pulled into the gravel parking lot and parked in front of a modular
building the complex was using as a makeshift office.

An attractive woman greeted me from behind a
desk, her gray roots marring her well-groomed appearance. Upon
seeing me, she pasted on a bright smile and rushed around the desk
as if a celebrity had just sashayed into her little corner of the
world.

“
You must be Lexi,” she
said, making the handshake last a little longer than
normal.

“
I am.”

“
I’m Lisa. I talked to you
on the phone. So you’re interested in the one-bedroom?”

“
Yes.”

“
Follow me.” She exited the
office and navigated her spiked heels carefully through the large
gravels until we crossed the parking lot and walked through the
main entrance of the apartment building. A small lobby neared
completion, and we turned into a hallway, passing unpainted
sheetrock.

Approaching the first door, she wrapped her
hand around the doorknob and paused. “All the floor plans for the
one-bedrooms are identical. I think you’ll find it spacious and
comfortable.” She pushed the door open, and I followed her into a
decent sized living room.

I listened to her as she moved from room to
room, touting all the benefits. The apartment was more than
adequate, even though I would have preferred a few upgrades, such
as granite. Following her back to the office, she pulled out a
drawing of the finished complex and pointed out the clubhouse and
pool.

“
How long before it’s
finished?” If it wasn’t too long, then the wait would be a minor
inconvenience in exchange for an apartment that had never been
occupied.

“
About four months.” She
sat ramrod straight in her black suit, her hands clasped together,
resting on the desk. “Would you like to complete an application?
We’re filling up fast.”

My decision was already made. “Yes.”

Shuffling through one of her desk drawers,
she pulled out the form and pushed it across the desk. She grabbed
a pen from a black ceramic coffee cup, clicked the top, and handed
it to me.

“
I’ll go ahead and add you
to the waiting list. Once your application is approved, I’ll notify
you, and if you like, we can give you updates via text or email.
Just mark your preference on the application.”