by Kate Benson
It’s not until I feel his lips dip into the hollow between my neck and shoulder, the familiar tickle of his beard against my skin as he sucks hard on my skin before licking the afflicted spot away, that I come back down to earth.
“Better?” he whispers, the word leaving his broad chest with a low rasp as his lips trail over my collarbone, pulling a weak nod from me.
“So much better,” I admit, pushing my wild hair away from my face and glancing up at him.
His eyes hold mine, the little flecks of gold taking me captive as his forearms cage me in and he leans in to kiss me sweetly. Perfect, I think.
This is exactly what I needed.
Hours of nothing but him.
My thoughts pull me away again for a moment before reality rears its ugly head, pulling a gasp from my chest.
“Shit! You have to go to work, baby!” I blurt in a panic, twisting slightly beneath him to reach for my phone to check the time, stilling only when he tucks his lips back into my neck, shushing me as he pushes the phone away from my hand. “What are you doing?” I demand, my eyes fluttering once more at his touch. “Dash, you’re going to be so fucking late.”
“It’ll be okay,” he promises, pressing his lips to my skin once more before he lifts, his eyes dancing as he grins down at me. “I won’t be late.”
“I thought you had to be at work at nine?” I ask, staring up at him like he’s completely lost his mind.
Why isn’t he panicking?
Why isn’t he hauling ass?
Why is he… laughing?
“I do,” he agrees, still smirking when he leans down to give me another quick peck. “It’s only been about twenty minutes, pussycat.”
“What?” I shout, watching him flinch slightly at the sheer volume of my cry before I reach for his wrist once more. “You lie!”
“I do not,” he smirks. “We could do that two more times and I’d still have time to shower and not be late, babe.”
“Son of a bitch!” I gasp as I read the time, my face burning fiercely. My arm falls with a light thud against the carpet beneath us as I stare up at him in disbelief. “How did you do that?” I demand, pulling another low chuckle from him. “I swear to God, it felt like I came for two hours,” I continue, rubbing my hands over my face as his chest vibrates against mine. Almost immediately, my mortification grows into a slight tinge of guilt as I pull my hands away and look back up at him. “That couldn’t have been great for you.”
“Wrong again, little monster,” he winks, bending to kiss me once more. “That was some hot as fuck, porno-worthy, rap video fuckin’, sugar.”
Fifteen
dash
The thought of leaving for another late shift is never one I’m thrilled about, but for some reason, tonight, it seems even more daunting.
The club Walt had hooked me up with is cool. It’s packed constantly and you’ll never hear me bitching about the money. Even without the regulars I came to depend on back home, I’m still making close to double here.
Good thing, I think. This city is costing us a fortune.
Evie’s happy, though.
As nervous as I was to move away from the small town we’d called home, I’m happy as fuck here, too.
There’s something pretty damned cool about being in a new place where you don’t know shit about anyone or anything.
It’s even cooler being able to share it with her.
We’ve barely had any time off together, but when we do, she’s taken me a few of the spots she loved most in Austin. I’ve seen a lot of art, which I wouldn’t have cared about before Evie, but we’ve also found escape in exploring the city, escape in exploring each other.
As I step behind the bar, the loud thump of bass and mainstream club music I’m not sure I’ll ever have a taste for pouring out all around me, it’s hard to shake the stupid grin I’m still wearing.
My happiness is all thanks to the loudmouthed lunatic I’d just left at home half naked and passed out on our couch.
She’s a total pain in my ass, has been since I was twelve years old, but I can’t deny how she makes me feel. It’s a glaring contradiction to the guy who thought he was going to hate-fuck his enemy out of his system once and they’d both walk away unscathed.
I’d thought moving in together, especially with our history and everything that’s happened since I asked her, would bring at least a few months of us being at each other’s throats. However, I’m as surprised as anyone to say it’s been great. I mean, sure, she’s a slob. She throws her clothes everywhere, leaves paint smudges in weird places and I’m not sure I’ll ever see the top of my bathroom sink again, but no major meltdowns. No huge fights that have ended with either of us spouting insults and storming out.
Somehow, against all odds, shit’s just working.
I’m not stupid enough to think Evie’s lost her crazy and I’m not ever going to freak out again. For now, though, in this weird calm before the storm we’ve never experienced, things with us have never been better.
Both of us working sixty hours a week definitely helps.
We’re both tired. Her evil remains exhausted and my give-a-fuck for arguing with her stays sitting near empty.
I can’t say her through-the-roof sex drive right now isn’t a perk. I’ve barely slept the last few weeks, but I’m not stupid enough to complain about that, either.
Another round of bass pulls me back to earth and I give my register a onceover, ready to get started so I can make some money and go back home to her.
I’m not a huge fan of big clubs and this is easily the biggest bar I’ve ever seen, let alone worked behind. One perk to this place, though, aside from the money, is that despite its size, the crew seems like a steady one. So far, everyone’s been pretty chill, and I learned quick who to trust to get me through a rough shift. I work with the same people most nights and they seem pretty tight knit, but I’m not planning on jumping in on any of that.
My private life with Evie is ours.
I don’t need to make friends. I need to make money.
“Hey Dash,” one of the servers, Cat, greets me as I push the drawer in front of me shut and turn to face her. “Are you working back there tonight?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “You?”
“Yeah, me and Hailey are your girls tonight,” she explains, pulling a low-key cringe from me I’m half hoping she doesn’t notice. She does. “Don’t worry. I’ll help her.”
“Thanks,” I smirk, the disarray that was the last few shifts I’d spent with her friend swarming into my thoughts as I check my phone one more time and slide it into my back pocket. When I face Cat again, I find her waiting with an order and an empty tray in her hand, the huge crowd filing in, ready for whatever party we’re supplying tonight. “Alright,” I sigh. “Let’s do this.”
The next few hours fly by, the energy and the steady stream of customers keeping me slammed for the bulk of my shift. For the most part, things flow pretty seamlessly, although Hailey, my second server on shift tonight, isn’t making shit easy. Not by a long shot.
“Dash, I need a redo,” she says, cementing my thoughts.
“Okay, gimme one sec,” I call out, finishing the drinks in front of me for the main bar before I can move back to service. When I turn back to face her a moment later, I don’t miss the way her eyes dart quickly to my eyes from a much lower part of my body. “What’s up?”
“Table fourteen wanted a screwdriver, not a 7 and 7,” she admits, her face doing that weird apologetic, whiny thing some women do that I’ve never understood. “Can you make that instead?”
“Yeah,” I nod, pulling the glass and moving toward the well. “Are you sure that’s what they wanted?” I ask, glancing over at her. “A 7 and 7 and a screwdriver aren’t even close, sweetheart.”
“I know,” she blushes. “I’m not sure what happened, really. It’s just really loud and I’m tired and…”
“Don’t worry about it,” I wave her off, sliding the drink over the bar
toward her. “That it?”
“Yeah,” she nods, turning away for a second before she turns back to face me. “Wait! I have an order for table twenty-three, too. I need three Heiney’s and a 7 and 7.”
“Okay,” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Is there any reason you couldn’t give the 7 and 7 I just threw out to twenty-three?”
“Oh, crap!” she gasps. “I didn’t even think of that. I’m sorry, hon.”
“It’s fine,” I bite my tongue, grabbing the beers and setting them on her tray before I face her once more. “You’re sure it’s a 7 and 7 this time?”
“Uh huh,” she nods, nothing about her expression offering me any hope that she won’t be back in ten minutes for another remake. “Shit!” she exclaims, pulling my attention back to her. “I need a mojito and a paloma for seventeen.”
“Are you shitting m-”
“Yo! Can we get another round, man?”
I glance down the bar toward the customer calling out and give him a quick nod, returning my attention toward Hailey.
“Here, take these to twenty-three, come back for seventeen,” I tell her, pushing the tray forward. “And tell Cat I need her up here when she gets a minute.”
“‘Kay,” Hailey grins, pushing her auburn hair away from her face before grabbing her tray and offering me a reprieve.
I’ve just caught up on my customers when Hailey and Cat both walk up to service, Cat nearly as out of breath as I am while Hailey nods along to the bass booming out of the speakers above us.
“Here, I’ve got three orders,” Cat says. “What’s up? Hailey said you needed me?”
“Yeah,” I nod, glancing toward Hailey. “Do you have any new orders?”
“Nope, I just need the paloma and Texas tea for seventeen.”
“You said it was a paloma and a mojito.”
“Oh! Yeah, that’s what I meant,” she shakes her head in apology and reaches for the tray. “My bad.”
Cat and I stare after her, both of us slightly in awe of her ability at just how terrible she is at her job before they move back to focus on each other.
“I’m gonna need you to cut her section,” I say bluntly, pulling a smile to her lips. “Seriously.”
“You sure? That’s the big dude’s niece,” she reminds me. “She’ll probably throw a fit.”
“I don’t care who she is right now. She’s fuckin’ killing me,” I insist. “She can’t handle more than two, three tables - tops.”
“Whatever you say, hon. You’re the boss,” she puts her hands up in surrender with a laugh as she reaches for her orders. “You ready?”
“Yeah,” I nod, releasing a low breath of relief, hoping the last leg of my shift will go easier with the extra help.
Thankfully, it does. By a quarter to three, I’ve even managed to get the register counted down and am able to sit for a minute while I wait for the last of the closers on my team to finish their setups.
I’m scrolling through Evie’s texts – which now resemble a combination of love letters, grocery demands and ailments more than anything – when I hear footsteps approaching me from the other side of the bar. I glance up to find an upset Hailey facing me, her hands folded over her chest in defiance.
“Hey,” I start, hitting send on my reply to Evie before I slip my phone back into my pocket. “What’s up?”
“Did you tell Cat to pick up half my section?”
“Yes,” I say bluntly, watching her jaw drop in offense. “I’m sorry, Hailey, but I didn’t have a choice. You were behind, I was getting my ass handed to me and every time I turned around, I was fixing mistakes.”
“My mistakes?”
“Yes,” I reply, earning nothing but a hurt expression of defiance in return. “Look, it wasn’t anything personal, sweetheart. I had to do what I had to do for the good of the shift. We were three-deep, short-staffed, and it felt like every time I made it back to run point, you’d call me back to service to help you recover,” I explain bluntly. “If Cat had been tanking her section, I’d have done the same thing to her.”
“That’s true,” Cat interjects as she comes to a slow stop next to Hailey. “Happened last week,” she continues, resting her chin on her hand as she faces her friend. “Pissed me off, but had to be done,” she shrugs, moving her eyes back to mine. “That was a rough night, boss. I think a staff meeting is in order.”
“Fair enough,” I sigh. “Make it quick, though,” I insist, taking the trays from them and reaching for my keys. “What’s your poison?”
“Mojito?” Cat asks, glancing toward Hailey. “Sounds good, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Hailey finally speaks, her lips curving up on either side.
“You two want mojitos?” I ask, quirking my eyebrows once more as they nod their reply. “After I got all this shit cleaned up?” I pull another round of nods from them. “Fine,” I shrug, moving away and returning with three shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey. “There ya go,” I sigh, filling them each halfway and sliding them forward before taking my own. “World famous, three am, Dash Hunter mojito.”
“Lame,” Cat rolls her eyes, taking the shot and sliding the glass forward before Hailey follows suit. “Thanks, boss.”
“You got it,” I smirk. “You two good to get to your cars?”
“Yeah,” Cat replies, her steps slowing slightly when Hailey doesn’t follow immediately.
“We’re actually planning to go grab some food, maybe check out this underground place,” Hailey says, pulling my eyes to hers. “You feel like getting into some trouble?”
I glance over at her, the loaded invitation obvious in her expression. She takes a step closer and I nonchalantly raise, effectively putting space between us.
“I’m beat,” I say with a friendly smile as I reach for my keys. “I’m gonna head home.”
“Okay, well if you change your mind,” she trails off, her expression falling slightly at the rejection my words bring.
“See you tomorrow,” Cat calls out, reaching for Hailey’s elbow and tugging her toward the exit.
“Yep,” I nod in return, stepping out behind them and locking up before I turn and face 6th.
“Have a good night, Dash,” Hailey manages, the two of them disappearing into the crowd.
I glance down at my phone a final time with a smirk as I take in the nude selfie Evie sent at midnight asking me to bring her a bag of Funyuns and a mango.
“Don’t worry,” I say quietly to myself. “I will.”
Sixteen
evie
“Are you sure you don’t want me to call you when you aren’t busy?” she asks, pulling my eyes back toward the laptop. “I don’t want to keep you from your work, honey.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” I tell her for the third time as I glance over the small canvas on my easel, savoring in the smooth effect taking shape in front of me as the brush glides with ease. “I’ve barely spoken to you since you abandoned me,” I tease, giggling at her eye roll. “Besides, I’m not that busy. I’ve been having a hard time with the piece I’m working on at the studio, so I’m trying to work on a few smaller things here. This one is still pretty new. I’m not even sure if I like it yet,” I admit, twisting my head slightly to one side for a different view, critiquing it through narrowed eyes before I move the brush back to the canvas, Vinnie’s tail whirling around my ankle making me jump. “Dammit!”
“Serves you right with that guilt trip,” my mom chuckles, making me snort. “Anyway, what’s going on at the studio? You don’t usually have much trouble.”
“I don’t know what my problem is,” I confess, releasing a low breath of frustration as I face her. “Dash thinks I’m just too caught up in my head.”
“That could be it,” she reasons. “You’ve got a lot to be caught up in right now, honey.”
“Yeah,” I nod in agreement, shaking my head clear. “Whatever it is, I wish it would chill. I just want to paint.”
“I know, baby,” she says with compassion. “Just try
and relax. Focus on all the wonderful things happening and once you do that, I’m sure you’ll get your mojo back.”
“Thanks,” I smile. “I’m definitely trying.”
“Good girl,” she winks. “When do you have your next appointment?”
“Monday morning at eight-thirty,” I reply, placing the paintbrush I’m using between my teeth as I try and correct a small smudge. “Are you going to be around?”
“I’ll leave early,” she shrugs.
“Mom, you don’t have to do that,” I insist, turning my attention toward her completely now and shaking my head. “It’s my first appointment with my new doctor. I don’t think they’re doing anything big, just checking in and making sure things are normal and all that.”
“Well, honey, you never know. You’re in your sixteenth week,” she argues, arching her brow. “What if I tell you not to call and something exciting happens?”
“I’ll take a video,” I promise, smirking at her lack of approval. “And I will tell the doctor if anything exciting might happen, she’ll have to wait for me to call you first.”
“Fine,” she waves me off, smiling at my response. “How are you feeling? Still having headaches?”
“Not as bad,” I admit. “And thank God, the nausea is almost completely gone,” I sigh. “Although, Dash met me for lunch the other day and we walked by a street cart and I thought I was going to lose it,” I recall, shivering at the memory before I dip my brush back into the paint and refocus on the canvas. “I didn’t get sick, but there’s a solid chance I may never eat another hot dog as long as I live.”
“You shouldn’t eat hot dogs from a wagon anyway, dear,” she admonishes me. “Let that just be a life lesson.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I snicker, my eyes moving to hers for a moment, taking in her sweet expression.
As I meet her eyes, I can’t help the small lump of emotion that builds in my chest. We’ve been so busy lately, her promise that time would go faster than I could imagine continues to come to fruition with each new day. Yet, sometimes, in these simple little video chats we have a few times each week, I remember how far away I am from my mother and instantly, my hormones take over.
