Patrice's Passion

by Tasha Hart

  “Come on! It’s my last night as a free man, and I intend to wring this sucker dry!” He’s laughing, with a couple of smart-suited flunkies under each arm. If I thought I could hit him, I’d wing a glass at him from here. Except, I don’t want to lose my job.

  And then it happens. Just over his shoulder, I see a flash of blonde hair that makes my knees tremble. Before I even see his face, I know it’s the guy who hit me this morning. It’s like he’s got a halo around his head, and I can’t tell if it’s because I’m not seeing straight, or because he’s right under some of the disco lights.

  Sure enough, it’s him. He turns that chiseled jaw to that shitheel I used to fuck and claps him on the shoulder. Adonis knows Jason? That could be a serious strike against him.

  “Alright, man, let’s do it.”

  I don’t know what Adonis got up to, but Jason and his posse turn and head back to a cluster of tables off in the corner. Apparently, asshole is going to let VIP slide because they’ve set something else up.

  When Crystal makes the rounds at the table, I can see why Jason made the move. He never could resist a pair of caramel-colored tits in a tight-fitting dress, and the new waitress has that in spades.

  “Hey, baby girl, you good?”

  “Huh?” That expectant, middle aged face is still leaning across the bar facing me.

  “How ‘bout that that?” He flashes a gap-toothed grin, and my hands turn into rubber as I scramble to make up for the time he’s been sitting there while I’ve been in a daze.

  “I’m sorry, sir. This one is on me.” I hate giving away my shift drinks, especially because I know for a fact, I could use every one tonight.

  “Wish that wasn’t the only thing on you tonight, girl,” he mutters and slaps a five spot down on the bar. The constant stream of come-ons that bartending brings with it is a bitter pill, but the folding cash makes this one a bit easier to swallow.

  “Still pulling stick, hey, Trice?” I snap around to find Jason leaning on his elbow, looking at me with drunken, half-lidded eyes. Clearly, this hasn’t been their first stop tonight.

  “It pays. You’ve got table service, why did you come over here?”

  “Lissen,” he ignores my question. “I just wanted you to hear it from me. This is my bachelor party, baby!” He crows out the last bit like he wants a round of applause. If there wasn’t a bar between us, I’d knee him straight where it counts.

  “Good for you.”

  “Damn right, good for me.” He nearly staggers back to his table, and the whole way I’m willing someone to trip his ass. Watching that fool bust his ass and walk into church tomorrow with a black eye would be pure poetry.

  The rest of the night, I’m pouring drinks and doing everything I can not to listen while Jason hangs out in the corner, showing his whole ass. All I want to do is keep from looking, but it’s like a slow-motion bullfight. Every time I turn that way, I see Crystal fawning over Jason, like every other waitress he fucked behind my back.

  To his credit, my car-crash partner looks like he’s hating every minute of the night. I don’t know how he knows Jason, or what he’s doing here, but he looks like he’d rather be on the moon without a helmet. Not that I can blame him.

  My cognac buddy wanders off again, and as I’m washing his glass, I steal a glance back to where the monster has been holding court. He’s gone. All his grinning buddies are there, but there’s a big old empty chair where he’s been wallowing all night.

  “All right, motherfuckers, everybody out!” Levon rolls up on the party and waves with his free hand. The other hand has a firm grip on the collar of Jason’s shirt, and that drunk prick is fumbling like hell with the front of his pants. Don’t even tell me.

  Snapping around to look at the door to the men’s room, I see Crystal hustle away from the door while pulling at the edges of her skirt. That ugly gurgle goes up in the pit of my stomach, and I feel that nasty old betrayal all over again. Those late-night sweats when I knew what he was off doing.

  A leopard can’t change his spots. That rotten shit was fucking her in the men’s toilet. Part of me wants to run over and slap her until she can’t breathe. The other part of me is rejoicing that my boy Levon busted them apart and isn’t going to rest until he pitches Jason out into the street.

  Right now, my only regret is that I can’t be out there to spit on him when he lands in the gutter.

  “Ain’t that some shit?” It’s my friend again, looking a bit the worse for his night. “You think I could get another cognac, baby?”

  One more “baby,” and I’ll just about lose it. This really hasn’t been my day.

  Five

  Chase

  What are the chances? At first, I had to look twice, because I thought I was seeing things after thinking about Patrice Car Accident all day. But, no, she’s been behind the bar, fending off boozy attentions.

  After she’s been running around in my brain, it’s nice to get another good look at her. If I had worried she wasn’t as stunning as I had first thought, I could let that go. Even behind the bar, she is radiant. It got harder and harder to keep my focus on the party around me. Not that it was much of a place I wanted to be.

  “Remind me of your name again?” Jason had already gleaned that one up at the waitress five times tonight.

  “Crystal!” She laughed, and I couldn’t tell if she was humoring him or genuinely amused.

  “Crystal, that’s right! I kept thinking it was Diamond, but probably I’m just thinking about what you deserve.”

  There was a second when he went over to the bar and my heart stopped. After the heavy act he’d been pulling on Crystal, my stomach knotted at the thought that he was going to put the moves on Patrice Car Accident, too. It was hard to say exactly why, but the last thing I wanted was to see her fall for his cheap trash.

  When he staggered back toward us without so much as a drink in his hand after leaning over the bar at her, I breathed a sigh of relief. At least I had nothing invested in Crystal. Not that I had anything invested in the gorgeous bartender, I just didn’t want to see him get to her.

  “Say, Chase, you wanna keep an eye on my drink for me?” Jason’s hand was clamped on my shoulder, for balance as much as anything else.

  “Sure. You going to the bathroom or something?”

  “Yeah, man. Or something.” He gave me a wink that I had no hope to decode and stumbled off from the table while the rest of the guys groaned encouragement after him. I really need to make some friends outside the firm.

  With him out of the way, it’s like I can finally focus. What I need to do is head over and talk to her. Maybe we could even hook up, and I could get this whole thing out of my system. She and I could settle the business of the car wreck, and that would be fine, but the more pressing thing is that I get myself straight about how she’s been captivating me.

  If I had any intentions of taking a gulp to settle my nerves, the ice clinking against my lips from the bottom of the glass tells me that’s a no-go. Even so, now that my drink is empty, I’ve got a legitimate reason to head over to the bar. She seems to be running it, after all.

  Not just that, but I haven’t laid my eyes on Crystal in a minute. She hasn’t exactly been attentive to anyone besides the guest of honor, and he hasn’t really needed the drinks she’s been serving up to him one after the other. You’d think he was some kind of prize the way people look at him, and I wish I could tell them all how wrong they are. He’s my boss, I should know.

  Well, to hell with this. It’s time to throw caution to the wind and go see what I can start with Patrice Car Accident. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to use an opening line (usually the girls come to me), but I’ve got a sure winner as far as conversation starters go. We have some common ground, after all.

  “Hey, Chase, I think the bathroom is occupied, man!”

  “It’s alright, Frank, I’m just going up to get another drink.”

  “Okay, dude,” he laughs. “I think our waitress
is out of commission.”

  The whole table goes up in a cackle, and I’m just about to ask what’s so funny when I see the evidence. I’m the first one of the group to catch it, but the storm is coming our way in the form of one, big, black cloud.

  “All right, motherfuckers, everybody out!”

  Even if I hadn’t seen Goliath headed our way, the voice would be enough to make me pack my stuff. A bouncer is headed our way, and he’s got Jason by the scruff of the neck. As much trouble as we’re all in, my boss is giggling like a kid and doing everything he can to tuck his dick away before everyone gets a free show.

  Just past this spectacle, I see our girl Crystal slinking away like she’s been hit with a stick. That clinches it.

  “What seems to be the problem, friend?” If I can diffuse this whole thing, maybe I can still make it to the bar and initiate some kind of conversation with Patrice Car Accident.

  “I’m not your friend, chief.” The mountain has made his position clear. “Your friend here was fucking in our bathroom, and we don’t take that kind of shit here. So, everybody out.”

  The table moves as one unit, and the bouncer throws Jason at us like a rag. If a couple of guys close weren’t ready to catch him, it would have been one hell of a fall. Not that I would have minded seeing it just now.

  Part of me wants to break off like I don’t know these clowns and see if I can make it to the bar, but it’s clear from the bouncer’s face that any move that isn’t toward the door would be a bad idea. Taking one last look at the stunner slinging drinks, I figure it’s best to keep my head down and follow my group on their walk of shame.

  Whatever this conversation wants to be, it can wait for another day. This probably isn’t the best time, given the circumstances. But there is a silver lining to all of this—at least I know where she works.

  Six

  Patrice

  As much as I want to thank Levon for throwing that piece of shit and his friends out, I’m having a hard time celebrating over losing the cash. Especially after today. When some drunk gets thrown out, or a couple of guys start a fight, that’s a hit I can take. But a group that size getting bounced?

  It’s like I can see the money flying out of my already thin bank account. If things keep up like this, there’s no way I’m gonna be able to afford finishing up my degree. I’ll be stuck behind the bar in some club or other until it’s all too late. My heart sinks so low, I’m in serious danger of stepping on it.

  “That table had you pretty worked up, huh?” It’s my cognac buddy again, and he’s looking the worse for it. All I can do is grit my teeth and get ready for some more “baby” shit.

  “You could say that.”

  “Well, they’re gone now, so you’ll be alright.”

  “Yeah.” All I want to do is tell him how far from alright I’m gonna be tonight. I want to tell him that the hundreds of dollars of booze that group just bounced out of comes out of my check. I want to tell him that I was an idiot in my car this morning and I’m probably going to have to swallow a serious chunk of change over that, too.

  “You want another cognac, honey,” is what I ask instead. I even manage to show him my teeth in the best attempt at a smile I can make right now.

  “Just the one. And the check, baby.” There’s that word again. But this time, it sounds like my father’s voice instead of some leering drunk.

  While I’m pouring up, I try to count the blessings of the day—a habit of mine when I’m feeling like shit—but the only one I can seem to come up with is watching Jason get tossed out on his ass. It’s tempting to count meeting the handsome guy this morning, but the way we met keeps getting in the way.

  The fact he’s tied up with my lying, cheating, asshole of an ex isn’t exactly in his favor either.

  “Thanks,” he says when I put the drink in front of him. He signs the check and slides the folder back over to me. “Hope your night picks up.”

  “Me too.” With a modest little wave, he’s off. The guy actually left me a decent tip! I mean, it’s not much more than twenty percent, but after today, I almost tear up. At least I have enough for a couple of drinks of my own to wash out the taste of this miserable fucking day.

  The morning shows, and I’m more than a little glad it’s Saturday. No class. I drank more than the tip last night and can feel every drop.

  All right, girl. Get up. No good is gonna come from lying around in bed soaking in a hangover. It’s a couple of fried eggs and hot sauce to cut through the fog. They only manage to take the edge off, but honestly, that’s all I really need.

  As much as I ought to work on that stupid John Donne paper, even to just get partial credit, I use my morning writing time to work on my own stuff. If I can shove some of my own words onto the page, maybe it will help me take a bit of ownership of my day. Lord knows, I need all the help I can get these days.

  I’ve been writing for nearly two hours when my alarm goes off, warning me to get ready to go in. Saturdays are usually full days for me to type away, but I’ve got inventory at the club. With a heavy sigh, I stare at the words on my screen. It sucks to break the stream when things are flowing, but I can’t afford to lose out on any of the hours at work.

  Finish the sentence and get in the shower, Trice. Get that money. There’ll be time for words later. It might be a lie, but it gets me moving.

  Stocking isn’t so bad, because it can be mindless, and the place is pretty much empty. Roslyn is here, going over some booking possibilities with Jessica, but they’re back in the offices. Occasionally, Angela comes out to check on a few things, but mostly it’s just me.

  Listening to bottles clink, I just let my mind wander over what I was working on this morning. If I had managed the patience, maybe I would have worked on my poetry, but the prose was just where my hungover head was at.

  “Can I help you?” Angela is over by the door, which is wide open. Even in silhouette, I can tell who it is.

  “Is there any chance the bartender from last night is in?”

  “Who’s asking?” There’s no question it’s my car wreck buddy. As handsome as he is, I’m not really in any mood to take any shit right now. I gave him my number, so why does he have to come in here to hassle me about the insurance?

  “You can’t just come walking in here,” Angela says as he tries to step through the door. “We’re closed.” Gotta hand it to our head floor manager, she really knows how to stand her ground and take care of her girls.

  “It’s alright,” I call over to her. “I probably ought to talk to him.” She backs down, and he comes in with a little less swagger than you would expect out of a guy who looks like him. Damn near timid, like he’s walking into the lion’s den. He just might be if he’s planning on acting tough about the crash.

  I shove the last couple of bottles in place and wipe my hands on the towel. Whatever this boy wants, I’m not going to meet him on my knees behind the bar.

  Seven

  Chase

  “I was hoping I’d find you here.” It’s pretty lousy as opening lines go and comes out of my mouth and lands on the floor with a thud.

  “You saw me last night.” She’s got her arms folded, snugging those ample breasts together in a way that makes it hard to keep from staring.

  “Yeah,” I try to seem casual, “but I wanted to catch you before the place opened.”

  “Well done. Here I am.” Here she is indeed.

  “Look, how bad was the damage last night?”

  “Last night,” she looks thrown. “Man, the damage was in the morning. How many wrecks did you have yesterday?”

  “No,” I laugh without meaning to. “I meant the bill. How bad was the check on our table?” She just stares at me, her lips slightly parted. “We were the group that got thrown out.”

  “Oh, I know who you are.” She turns to the register to pull up the receipts from last night. “Not a good look, you know.”

  “I know.” Boy, do I know it. Getting rounded up next to your bo
ss with his dick out is not the way to make a good impression. She slides me the tab, and it’s pretty ugly. Still, I’m here to make good on it.

  “Here.” I hold out my card and she looks like I’m getting ready to spring a trap. Her face is even more shocked when she sees the size of the tip I laid down on top of the bill. I’d almost feel silly about it, but it’s the best way I can make up for the way I must have looked the night before. Guilt by association and all.

  “I thought you were coming in about the accident.”

  “Oh, that,” I say. “Forget about it. It didn’t even damage my car that much.” What the hell am I saying? It’s like everyone in the auto shop came out to take a picture when I brought it in this morning.

  “Wait, what?”

  “Yeah, I didn’t even file a claim.” That part is true, but I feel like I’m riffing now. “Honestly, the whole thing was my fault for running the stop like that. I just wasn’t looking, I guess.” Am I taking blame for the crash? The words are out in the open before my brain has caught up with them.

  “Are you serious?” She’s just as shocked as I am. Her head cocks to the side with an eyebrow crooked up like she’s trying to figure me out. Not that I can blame her. I just nod back, keeping up as much of the casual act as I can.

  “I am.” As tempting as it is to say more, I’m just going to let that simple statement sit.

  “Whew!” She lets out a huge breath, and her whole body relaxes. Those arms unfold and she claps her hands down on the bar, leaning over them with something like a laugh. If there was any question about her being relieved, this settled it. When she looks up at me again, her whole face is alive with a dazzling smile.

  “You’re something, you know that?” She laughs again, with a glint in the side of her eye. She must have really been carrying weight over this.