He waved a hand, cutting me off. “Nah, he just told me he could see what you meant about me. Don’t worry. I’m used to it.”
His words were said with conviction, but I knew he didn’t mean it. Even I could see Toby had been hurt in the past and had tried to toughen his skin so the remarks wouldn’t ding him anymore. Despite his bravado, the words still hit the mark.
“I told him you were a big guy and had tattoos. That was pretty much it.”
There was the faintest bit of hope in Toby’s eyes, which I noticed then. They were a beautiful shade of blue, like you see right before the storm clouds roll in. They were dark, almost opaque. The things I learned about the man continued to make him more desirable in my mind.
“You didn’t….”
“No, I most certainly didn’t. If you want, I’ll go drag Pete’s sorry ass out of bed and he can tell you exactly what I told him.”
The relief was obvious, but he still maintained that air. “Nah, it’s okay. Like I said, it doesn’t matter.”
“Sit down. Eat. Then you get some sleep.”
He yawned then, and I heard his jaw crack. The poor guy was wiped.
“Why so tired?”
“I had to fire a server and was doing both jobs. It wasn’t quite as bad today, because—” Toby scowled. “Why are you asking?”
I took a seat across from him and gestured between us. “See, this is what grownups call conversation. Can you tell me what the word means?”
If I thought the look he was giving me before was bad, this new one would scare pretty much anyone. Good thing I wasn’t just anyone. I’d stood my ground against a mugger, a raging homophobe, and my mother. If Toby thought I was going to be intimidated, he had a lot to learn about Angela Roga’s baby boy.
“It means I tell you things, and you tell me things. We get to know each other a bit better. Now, since you’re not answering my question, let me tell you a bit about myself. I’m twenty-four. I was born in a small town in the UP called Iron River. My formative years were spent going to school and volunteering at the animal shelter there with two amazing women, Vicky and Clare. When I turned eighteen, I had a choice to make. I could either start working with Clare at Kermit’s, which was the place to be, or I could take a chance and go to school. As much as we became friends, and I loved working with Vicky and Clare, I chose UW-Milwaukee because it got me away from home and let me finally open up about who I am.”
Toby glowered but said nothing as he took a huge bite of the sandwich. “Oh, this is good,” he groaned, a small smile curling his lip.
Mama was right. The way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. And if that didn’t work, a blade between the fifth and sixth ribs would do the job. Mama was a big D&D player back in the day.
“No big. And I know what you were going to say. I’m far too fabulous to think that I was fooling anyone when I was in high school. You, sir, would be correct. I was teased, bullied by a few, but I also had a few tight friends who did their best to keep it all to a minimum. When I got to Milwaukee, I took a job as a server-slash-bartender at a place near the campus. I gave my notice when I graduated, because I fully expected to find a job in my chosen field.”
“Which is?” he mumbled around the last of his sandwich.
The embarrassment had my cheeks heating. “I chose fashion merchandising. I figured my fabulosity plus some beautiful jewelry? Match made in heaven, right? Yeah, not so much. Job pickings are pretty slim to none, and those I can find wouldn’t pay enough to get me a decent place to live—no offense to this place, of course.”
“No, of course.”
He grabbed the bottle, and I stared in awe as his throat muscles worked, taking the beer to his stomach. Toby was, without a doubt, stunning in my eyes. Others might not see him that way, which was to my benefit, because they didn’t know what they were missing out on.
“God, you’re hot.”
His eyes opened wide. “Excuse me?”
Realizing what I’d said, I did my best to backtrack, because right now I needed a job way more than I needed Toby inside me.
“I said it’s hot. You want another beer?” He started to stand, but I held up my hand. “Let me get it for you.”
At that moment Waldo leaped onto Toby’s lap and pressed against him. Damn lucky cat.
Toby settled back in the chair. “Thanks,” he muttered, “but I should get to bed. I need to be up early. I need to find me a server so I can finally get a day off.”
And there it was, laid out in the open. I’d already told him I had experience, and I expected him to pounce on that. Of course, he didn’t.
“What about me?”
“You?” He arched an eyebrow. “You ever been to No Angels? We’re not exactly your type of place.”
I wasn’t sure if I should be offended or not. I mean, he could be genuinely looking out for my wellbeing, or he could be snarky and think I wasn’t able to handle myself. I went with the latter.
“Excuse me?”
“Our clientele is kinda… rough.”
“You haven’t met my mother,” I tossed out. “Look, I can do the job, at least as long as you give me a fair shot.”
His gaze narrowed, but then he sighed. “I do need someone, and you seem eager enough.”
“But?”
Toby blew out a breath. “But nothing. Come down tomorrow and fill out the paperwork. We’ll get you started right away, if you think you’re ready.”
I was ready, willing, and able. And apparently I’d gotten a job.
Chapter Four
Toby
The apartment was quiet after I showed Kyle out. Maybe a little too quiet. I never noticed before how much some simple conversation could make the place not so dreary.
After I slid the chain onto the door, I dragged my carcass to the bedroom and slipped out of the robe, which I hung on the handle of the closet. I snapped off the light and slid under the covers, eager to be welcomed into Morpheus’s arms.
And… nothing.
I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, thoughts whirling in my mind. Why had Kyle come? Sure, he was upset about what Pete had said, but was it really something to get that worked up over? And what was the deal with the cooking? Not that I would complain, because it had tasted amazing, but it seemed weird. And finally, did he really say it was hot? I admit, I was dead on my feet and had only partially listened when he was talking, but I would have sworn he’d said…. Nah, couldn’t have been.
Wishful thinking?
“Fuck no,” I muttered to the dark room. “He’s a dude, and I do not do dudes.”
Yet you have those gay guys working at the bar….
“My sister—”
Really? You’re going to blame it on your sister? Pretty sure you’re the one who hired them.
Internal me was a prick but wasn’t wrong. Sure, I probably would have had double the business if I’d hired attractive women, but despite the hard outer shell, I’d always been a soft touch. Each of the guys had needed a job, and if you hand me a sob story, I would be standing there with my wallet out. And besides, I had no interest in them in that way, and as far as I knew, neither did the guys at the bar. They treated the boys decent, so it worked out for everyone involved.
I yawned yet again. No matter what, I needed sleep. When I was a kid, I learned the fastest way to fall asleep was to tug one out. That always put me under faster than fast. I reached under the blankets and stroked a hand over my dick. It perked immediately, a fact of which I was proud. I slid my fingers over the skin and moaned. Hot, throbbing, needy. Yep, that was me in a nutshell.
I let my mind drift back to my last hookup, Rochelle. She’d been thirty, with dark blonde hair and a biting wit. We met at the bus stop while my car was in the garage. For a week we sat and talked about anything and everything. I asked her to have a meal with me and was surprised when she said yes. We went out, had a nice dinner, and then I took her home. She was great. One night, two months after we’d started seei
ng each other, we went back to her place after dinner. We sat and talked for a couple hours, until she leaned over and kissed me. She took my hand and led me to her bedroom. We fucked three times that night, and each round was better than the last. We lost touch after she moved to Madison, and I was bereft for a while.
It was then that I noticed something odd. My once-stiff dick had drooped and now hung limply in my hand. I tugged it a few times, fully expecting it would perk up again, but it was deader than a doorknob. It was the exhaustion, I was sure. Instead of stressing over it, I closed my eyes, and after a few minutes, Waldo crawled up onto my pillow, where his purr soothed me and eventually helped me to fall asleep.
The knock on the door startled me. I jolted upright, with Waldo protesting loudly. Another knock. I glanced at the clock and groaned. It was later than it should have been, and I realized I’d forgotten to set the alarm. I snagged the robe and threw it on, then rushed to the door. When I pulled it open, I stood there, shellshocked. The guy in front of me was obviously Kyle, but not the same one from last night. His hair was no longer two different lengths. Instead, it was all cut close to the scalp. His baggy T-shirt was gone and in its place was a crisp, pressed white shirt. Anyone seeing him would think he was a Mormon, the way he stood there, hands folded in front of him.
“What?” I snapped, then regretted it. “Sorry, didn’t sleep well. What are you doing here? It’s only five thirty.”
“You said to come in today so I could fill out the paperwork and get started. I figured now would be a good time, so you can catch me up on anything I need to learn.”
He was eager, that much was obvious. “I meant like ten or so.”
“Early bird, worm, you know.” He grinned. “Besides, I figured I could ride in with you so I know which bus will get me there next time.”
“Come on in,” I said, gesturing to the apartment. “Since you’re early and I’m not ready, you can feed Waldo while I get dressed.”
His gaze slid down my body, but he said nothing. “Sure, no problem.”
Kyle stepped inside, and I hurried to the bedroom to find something to wear. Looking at the state of my closet, I decided I needed to do laundry the next available moment. My basket was overflowing, and I was down to three shirts, no extra pants, and two pairs of socks. I pulled out what I could and tossed them on the bed. Then I made a quick visit to the bathroom, where I took care of business, which was followed by the world’s fasted shave and a brushing of teeth. Once done, I dressed and hustled to the kitchen. Waldo sat there, staring at his empty bowl and mewing pitifully.
“Don’t let him lie to you,” Kyle said. “He ate all his food.”
I bent and rubbed Waldo’s head. “Nice try, kitty.”
He snorted and rushed off to wherever he’d be hiding.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes, sir” came the snappy reply.
I kept telling myself I needed a server, but this had “bad idea” written all over it. I hoped I wouldn’t live to regret it.
Kyle
No Angels was nothing like I’d expected Toby to be working at. When he said the clientele was hard, I figured the place would be a dive. Instead, it was clean and smelled of lemon polish and elbow grease. The brass rail along the bar gleamed in the light, and when I got closer, I could see the edges were made from strips of varied shades of wood that were so glossy, I could see my reflection in it.
“Reclaimed?” I asked Toby, who preened a little.
“Yes. I have a buddy who does construction. He showed me some things he’d made from stuff he salvaged from jobs, and it was impressive. I decided I wanted it for here. The owner was happy because it was cheap. I was happy because it looked amazing.” He shrugged. “The customers are usually too drunk to care.”
The top of the bar? That was way more impressive. Hundreds of bottle caps had been pressed into a black fabric. I couldn’t help but run a hand over it. There was some kind of barrier between my hand and the wood. I cocked my head and peered at Toby.
“Epoxy resin. The bottle caps came from the bar, so it was only about a grand for the whole thing.”
The place was… I hesitated to use the word kitschy, but that’s how I viewed it. Two pool tables dominated the center of the room, and a few video games stood in the darkened corner. The stools that were around the bar appeared to also be reclaimed wood, with blue leather covering the seats. The lighting was a mishmash of different styles and colors, all with what appeared to be energy-saver bulbs in them.
“Back there is the kitchen. Our menu is light. Mostly things like wings, mozz sticks, onion rings, breaded mushrooms, and the like. When I suggested it, the owner tried to veto the idea, but I persisted. I’m glad he gave in, because we do great business in finger food. There’s a menu at each table, plus fliers on the bar. If you get an order, place it with the bartender, and he hands it over to the cook. When it’s ready, the bartender will put it on the bar and call your name to have it picked up. Now, we don’t serve froufrou drinks here. It’s mostly bottles of beer or mugs of the tap stuff. Don’t let these guys shit you and say they want a blow job or sloe comfortable screw against the wall. We don’t serve it, and while you’re on duty, they don’t get it. Clear?”
“Crystal.”
“I doubt it’ll happen, but if a customer professes an interest, you do it after your shift. I’m going to tell you one hard and fast rule I live by. Don’t shit where you eat. Relationships in the bar can have ugly repercussions, as my bartender recently found out.”
I had no intention of hooking up with anyone, but it was good of Toby to give me the okay to do so if I wanted.
“Let’s go into the office and I’ll give you some paperwork to fill out.”
“Yes, sir.”
Toby winced. “Don’t ever call me ‘sir.’ Toby is fine. If you feel the need to be more formal, find a better choice of words.”
“What about ‘boss’?” I asked with a grin.
He sighed. “Better than ‘sir’ or ‘mister.’ This isn’t a high-class place, and the guys would love to hear crap like that, because they’d never let me live it down.” He narrowed his gaze. “And I don’t want to have to deal with those kinds of problems, you understand? I like my life as stress-free as possible, and lately I haven’t been getting that. With you hired, I might be able to take a day off for a change.”
And he needed it. Prada should have bags like the ones Toby carried under his eyes. Deep, dark rings gave his face a sunken look. Weird that I wanted him to have a day—or more—off so he could finally get some rest.
“I won’t let you down.”
He gave me a half smile. “I believe you. Now, let’s go get you hired.”
We went through a door that took us to a long hallway with rooms spread at equal distances. We followed the corridor that led to an office at the back of the bar. Along the way, Toby pointed out the other areas and told me that was where the extra liquor was stored, the refrigerators and freezers, boxes filled with glassware, and the like. The place looked small on the outside, but was a lot bigger than I thought it would be. Toby was surprisingly patient, taking the time to ask if I had questions—which I didn’t—and asking some of his own to ensure I was paying attention—I was.
When we got to his office, I stopped at the door. I have to admit, I thought the room would be a mess, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Toby’s computer sat on a clean desk with a lamp overhead. There was a steel filing cabinet to the side that had nothing on top. Another cabinet behind the desk held books on a variety of subjects like mixed drinks, how to turn a profit if you own a bar, and things like that. Along the other wall was a black leather couch. Toby must have noticed me looking.
“Before I got Waldo, I spent a few nights here when I had to work late and come in early,” he explained.
How sad that was. I was suddenly glad he got a cat.
Toby had me sit while he opened one of the drawers and pulled out a stack of papers, which he handed
to me.
“Here you go. Before you say anything, when I gave the owner my version of the questionnaire, he added a lot more to it. So my version was short and to the point. His is… well, you’ll see. I have to get out front and check on a delivery. If you have questions, pick up the phone and dial star thirty-two. That rings at the bar.”
“Okay.” I eyed the thick stack of papers. “I’ll be out as quick as I can.”
He gave a sharp nod, then exited through the door.
The paperwork wouldn’t get done by me staring at it, sadly. I took a pen from my pants pocket and got down to business. The fact that Toby told me the bar wasn’t “that” kind of place was belied by the amount of forms I had to fill out. The owner had questions for everything, from allergies to dick size. Okay, that last one was wishful thinking on my part, but still, there were a ton of things he asked. After nearly an hour, I finished, sat back, and swiped a hand over my forehead.
A few moments later, Toby set a soda and a plate of mozzarella sticks down beside me. “Here, have this.”
I peered up at him. “What?”
He gave me a slight scowl. “Don’t read anything into it,” he grumbled. “I’m only doing it because you fed me and gave me a beer last night. It’s me returning the favor, that’s all.”
But the words were said with a frown, like Toby was trying to figure out why he was giving me the food. Based on the cues that I’d been getting from him, I figured I was wasting my time lusting for him. I’d had a thing for more than one straight guy once before, and those never ended well. Plus, I was working here now, so definitely didn’t need any drama.
“Okay, thanks.” I handed him the packet. “That’s very… thorough.”
“It’s fucking ridiculous is what it is. All those questions to work at a bar? Stupid, if you ask me. Which, of course, the boss didn’t, so….”
I picked up one of the cheese sticks and dipped it into a red sauce that was on the plate. From the first bite, I was hooked. I thought they were going to be bland, like mozzarella sticks usually are. Not these. I peered at the filling and noticed the bits of peppers in it. “Jalapeño?” I asked.
Waiting on Life Page 4
