by Susan Stoker
Over the last couple of days, she and Blake hadn’t spent a lot of alone time together. Besides the training with his brothers, they’d worked two security jobs, one in Denver and one in Pueblo. They were easy escort jobs, making sure their clients weren’t harassed when they moved their belongings out of the house and apartment, respectively, they’d shared with their ex-spouses.
She and Blake had talked a lot about what might happen at the lunch. Who might be there, what they’d say, what they’d want from her. He still touched her often, and he kissed her briefly when they met and when they parted, but there hadn’t been any of the deep, drugging kisses they’d shared before and no more talk of a date. Alexis would’ve been worried that Blake had changed his mind if it wasn’t for the way he continued to look at her . . . as if he wanted nothing more than to throw her to the ground and have his way with her.
As frustrating and confusing as it was, Alexis let Blake set the speed of their relationship. He’d said he liked being the one to chase, so she’d let him. But her patience was wearing thin. She’d been trying not to push him, but she was getting increasingly more frustrated and wanted him to take things to another level. If he didn’t hurry up and do something, she’d have to let him know of her displeasure. She smiled at the thought. Blake seemed to like it when she spoke her mind. It was one of ten thousand and twenty-three things she loved about him . . . what others considered annoying, he found amusing.
Alexis had paired a dark-green designer blouse that was high in front and dipped low in back with a pair of black slacks. She wanted to be sexy but not show off so much cleavage, because of the microphone. It was taped between her breasts, but with all her other concerns about what could happen, she barely even noticed it.
She’d gone heavy on her makeup once again, keeping it classy but obvious, and put large, dangly emerald earrings on to match her shirt—and of course the gaudy necklace with the fake stone and tiny camera. She’d also put on her high school class ring her mom insisted on buying for her—the first time she’d worn the stupid thing—and three other rings with large expensive stones. She’d then finished off her flashy jewelry with a diamond tennis bracelet and a charm bracelet, again with several diamonds, emeralds, rubies, and aquamarines embedded in the various charms.
She felt like she had a sign on her forehead that screamed, “Rob me! I’m a stupid rich chick!” There was no way she’d be dumb enough to wear any of that jewelry in this part of town if she hadn’t had Blake at her back and if she wasn’t purposely trying to look like a rich airhead.
Blake hadn’t said much when he’d come to pick her up at her apartment, which had worried Alexis. She was afraid he’d come to his senses and would refuse to let her make the meet with Kelly. But after she’d put on the wire under her clothes and she’d come out of her room ready to go, he’d taken one look at her and moved toward her.
“Fuck me,” he’d murmured as he quickly strode to her. Her hands had come up automatically and landed on his chest as his own hands had taken hold of her face. Blake had leaned down and taken her lips as if he were a starving man and she were a four-course meal. She hadn’t realized how much she needed this before going into the lion’s den. They’d barely touched except for her hands on his chest and his on her face—and of course their lips—but it was more intimate than anything Alexis had ever experienced before, even their first kiss in his car.
She’d shifted in his arms as their tongues entangled, pressing her thighs together to try to assuage the ache between them. Alexis had felt her panties get damp as their teeth had knocked in their attempt to get more of each other. When Blake had bitten down on her lower lip and sucked on it at the same time, Alexis moaned.
The sound had broken whatever spell they’d weaved between them, and Blake had pulled back, reluctantly.
Alexis had breathed heavily, as if she’d just run a mile, and stared up at Blake. She’d licked her lips, tasting Blake on them. His eyes had followed the movement of her tongue, and he’d grimaced as if in pain. But he’d leaned down and kissed her forehead before dropping his hands and taking a step back.
“You’d better go touch up your lipstick before we go.”
His words had made her eyes go to his lips, where her lipstick was smeared. Alexis had blushed thinking about what her own lips looked like. She’d swallowed and nodded, saying softly before she turned to go, “I’ve got tissues in my living room, so you can clean up. As much as I like my mark on you, it’s probably not the image we want to portray if you have to come inside the bar.”
He’d smiled broadly. “Always thought it disgusting to be covered in a woman’s lipstick. But now that I’ve got yours on me . . . I’m not that eager to get rid of it.”
She’d smiled at him and paused halfway through her turn to go clean up. She hadn’t wanted to go meet Kelly. She’d wanted to find out, though, what all the fuss about men was. Why women through the ages would gladly give up everything they were and everything they owned to be with the men they loved. She liked seeing her lipstick on him. Liked knowing how it got there.
She’d had no idea what Blake was thinking, but if the glint in his eyes and the tent in his pants were any indication, his thoughts were similar. Just when she’d thought he was going to say the fuck with the meeting and take her into his arms once more, he’d spoken.
“Go on, Lex. We need to get going. I’ll meet you by the door.”
She’d nodded and tore her eyes from his. Damn she had it bad. Without another look at him, she had gone into her bedroom to fix her lipstick.
Now she was standing at the door to Snake’s Bar trying not to bite her lips and remove any more of the lipstick she’d reapplied earlier. She had a part to play, and it was time she got to it.
Alexis pushed open the door and let her eyes adjust to the dark, smoky bar. It was bigger than she expected. To the left there was a large raised platform with three pool tables. Only one was currently in use. There were several tall tables around the pool tables, allowing the players to put their drinks down while they played. Scattered around the area in front of the pool tables, and on the main floor, were square tables haphazardly strewn about. There were wooden chairs, some pushed in, some not, around each table. The tables were wooden, and many had graffiti carved or written on them.
There was a four- or five-foot path from the entrance that led straight to the mahogany bar in the back of the room. A large mirror was centered behind the bar, making the room look twice as big as it was. Alcohol lined shelves on either side of the mirror, in no particular order that Alexis could see. There was a bottle of top-shelf tequila next to a bottle of Royal Gate vodka. A large keg sat on a stand behind the bar, with a tap dripping beer onto the floor. Stools that had seen better days were scattered around the place. They were missing spindles, and one didn’t even have a back to it.
To the right of the mahogany bar was a hallway with a sign that proclaimed the restrooms were to the right. Another sign read BATHROOMS ARE FOR SHITTING & PISSING, NOT FUCKING. KINDLY KEEP FORNICATING TO THE HALLWAY OR MAIN BAR AREA.
She had no idea if it was someone’s idea of a joke or not but made a mental note to give the hallway a wide berth, just in case.
“Yo! Over here!” Alexis heard.
She turned her head to the left and saw Kelly waving from a table near the pool table platform. Alexis put on a wide, fake smile and headed over to the table, not surprised to find that Kelly was sitting with two rough-looking men. One was wearing a red bandanna on his head, tied in the front with a knot. He had tattoos up and down his arms, mostly of naked women—easily seen because of the short-sleeved shirt he was wearing—and he scowled at her as she came toward the table. He was Hispanic, and his brown eyes and dark skin blended in with the low light of the bar.
The other man was white, and the smirk he aimed her way scared Alexis almost as much as the scowl on the other man’s face. His teeth were crooked and brown. He was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, but she could see tatt
oos on his knuckles and, when she got close enough, saw three teardrops tattooed near his eye. She’d done enough research to know that they probably represented the number of men he’d killed. Fuck.
Alexis kept her smile in place and made sure to keep her body centered on the table, to try to give the camera the best view of the occupants. She stopped near the empty chair, which unfortunately had its back to the room, which meant her back would be to the room, and chirped, “Kelly! It’s so good to see you. I hope I’m not late.”
“Nope, right on time,” she mumbled.
“I can’t wait to meet your friends,” Alexis continued, ignoring the surly tone of the woman. She turned to the white man and stuck out her hand in greeting. “I’m Alexis. It’s so great to meet you. It’s been forever since I’ve seen Kelly, but any friend of hers is a friend of mine.” She hoped she wasn’t overdoing it, and somehow managed to keep the silly smile on her face as the man took her hand in his.
She got an immediate feeling of claustrophobia as his large hand engulfed her smaller one. He squeezed a bit too hard, but Alexis didn’t flinch.
“A-lex-is,” he drawled her name out, making it sound as if she had a stripper name rather than a perfectly normal one. “Pretty name for a pretty girl. And I think you have it wrong. Any friend of Kelly’s is a friend of ours.”
She noted that the man didn’t tell her his name, but she ignored it for now, dipping her head as if embarrassed. The man held her hand for a beat longer than was socially acceptable, but Alexis didn’t let the smile fall from her face for even a moment. He finally dropped her hand, and she turned to the other guy at the table and stuck out the same hand. She really wanted to rub her palm on her pants to wipe off the feeling of slime the first man had somehow left on her skin, but gamely pushed onward.
The Hispanic man didn’t say anything and ignored her outstretched hand. He only lifted his head in greeting and grunted. Okay then.
Trying to stay in her role of a ditzy socialite who was slumming, Alexis pulled out the chair at the table and sat. Making a big deal out of putting her leather Coach bag over the back of her chair before turning around and putting her elbows on the table in front of her and leaning in.
“So . . . it’s so great to meet you guys,” Alexis repeated, giggling. “I haven’t heard of Snake’s, and I’ve been coming to bars in this area for ages and ages. Kelly, what’ve you been up to all these years since high school? Do you have a boyfriend? What do you do for a living?”
Feeling the strain of being the only one saying anything, Alexis really wanted to get Kelly talking.
The other woman looked at both men for a beat before saying, “Oh, you know, this and that. I’ve got a man. Of course I do. The economy sucks, so I do what I can to keep my head above water. What is it you do again?”
It was a completely vague answer that said nothing, but Alexis went with it and launched into the cover story she and Blake and his brothers had come up with. “Oh, I know what you mean. I’ve had so many jobs since college it isn’t even funny. I’ve waitressed, been a secretary, been in sales, and generally had to deal with all sorts of rich assholes. So annoying!” She rolled her eyes to emphasize her point. “And I know I’m rich, but I sure hope I don’t act like some of the jerks I come in contact with. It’s partly why I like to hang out in bars on this side of the city. I get to meet real men, rather than the metrosexuals who slick back their hair and think they’re God’s gift to women. I decided that working full time just wasn’t worth it. Why do something I hate all day when I don’t need to? It’s not like I really need to work; I’ve got the money, and it’s more fun to hang out and party.”
“Where, woman? Jesus, just spit it out. Fuck!” the Hispanic man growled harshly.
He brought his hand up in the air in Alexis’s direction so swiftly she instinctively flinched away from him. Laughing, he didn’t take his eyes from hers as he bit out loudly, “A round, Bear!”
Realizing he hadn’t been about to hit her but was signaling the huge bartender, whose name was apparently Bear, Alexis giggled nervously, not faking it this time.
“Sorry! I work at a boutique downtown. Just chatting with the women who come in and helping them find clothes and accessories. It’s boring as hell, but I don’t have to do anything hard, and, as I said, I don’t really need the money. I do get discounts, which is nice. I can get as many designer purses and clothes as I want. And the best part is that I only have to go in in the afternoons, so I’ve got time to get over any hangovers I might have from the night before.”
A woman appeared at their table as soon as Alexis stopped talking. She was wearing a short miniskirt that barely covered her crotch and was so tight it looked painted on. Her halter top looked more like a push-up bra than an actual shirt, and Alexis couldn’t help but think about how uncomfortable it had to be for the woman, with her boobs in her face all day, but if it was, she didn’t show it. She leaned over the table, practically spilling out of her top, and slowly placed four shot glasses on the table, one at a time.
The Hispanic guy—she still didn’t know his name—put his hand on the back of the waitress’s thigh and moved it upward as she was bent over. The woman didn’t squeal and slap him as Alexis would’ve done if someone had tried that with her, but instead she coyly turned her head, smiled, and widened her stance. Alexis pretended not to notice that the man was feeling her up right there at the table and instead exclaimed, while clapping her hands and bouncing in her seat ridiculously, “Shots! Awesome!”
She really didn’t want to drink any kind of alcohol, but it wasn’t like she could refuse. She’d talked with Blake and his brothers about the possibility of having to drink to fit in, and they’d suggested she just go with the flow. If she could, they told her to choose a mixed drink that had relatively little alcohol in it, but it didn’t look like she was going to get a choice in the matter.
“You like shots?” Kelly drawled, her eyebrows shooting upward.
“Oh yeah. Sex on the beach, blow job, lemon drop, and blue Hawaiians are some of my favorites.”
“Pussy drinks,” the Hispanic man snarled. “You want to drink at Snake’s, you start with tequila and go from there.”
Damn, damn, damn. Alexis hadn’t ever done a shot of tequila, or really any straight alcohol, and knew it was way out of her comfort zone, but she wasn’t being asked, she was being ordered.
So she said, “Sounds good to me,” as if it was the best idea she’d heard in ages.
The waitress cracked open the new bottle of tequila and poured four generous shots of the dark-brown liquid into the glasses on the table.
The men and Kelly each picked up a shot glass and looked at her expectantly. Alexis reached out and grabbed the last one and held it as if she were toasting. “To old friends . . . and new!”
No one said anything, and Alexis saw Kelly roll her eyes, but pretended she didn’t. Then they all threw back the drinks. Saying a quick prayer, Alexis copied their movements, bringing the glass to her lips and swallowing the vile alcohol in one gulp. She smiled, then immediately started coughing as the alcohol burned its way down her throat and threatened to come back up.
The white guy laughed and patted her way too hard on the back, the Hispanic man eyeballed her with narrowed eyes, and Kelly grinned evilly at her discomfort.
When she felt as if she could speak, Alexis croaked out, “Strong.”
“The more expensive the liquor, the easier it goes down,” the white guy drawled, with his hand still on her back. He was caressing her now, much like Blake did, which made Alexis’s skin crawl. Blake’s touch she craved; this man’s, not so much. But she could see where he was going with his comment. It looked like she’d have to prove herself sooner rather than later.
Without a word, she twisted in her seat, luckily dislodging the white guy’s hand from her back in the process, and pulled out her wallet from her bag. She made a production of opening it on the table, so everyone could see the contents, and took out
four one-hundred-dollar bills. “Well for God’s sake, I think we need the most expensive stuff this place has. The easier it goes down, the happier I’ll be.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.
The waitress, who hadn’t moved from her spot next to the Hispanic guy, maybe because of the way his hand was moving under her skirt and the obvious enjoyment she was getting out of it, or maybe because she wanted to see Alexis’s humiliation, snatched the money from her hand and drawled, “I’ll be back with the best shit we’ve got.”
“Can I get a salad too?” Alexis asked quickly. She wasn’t sure she could get anything down, but since she was there supposedly to eat lunch, she needed to play the part. Not to mention anything in her stomach that would soak up the alcohol had to be a good thing. “Oh, and a bottle of water too. Gotta rinse the taste of that cheap stuff out of my mouth,” she ad-libbed.
The Hispanic guy’s lips finally moved up a fraction at that. “I think we’re gonna get along just fine, chica,” he drawled, putting the index finger that had been busy under the waitress’s skirt into his mouth and sucking it.
Alexis shuddered. Gross. Jesus, this was a nightmare. These men were rude and crude, and she wanted nothing to do with them. What the hell had she gotten herself into? She wasn’t a PI. She was in way over her head. As if a bad omen, a shiver ran down her spine.
“We had some good times, didn’t we, Alexis?” Kelly said in a tone that actually sounded like she was reminiscing.
It was the first time Alexis had seen any trace of the girl she’d once been best friends with. “We did.” This time the smile Kelly aimed at Alexis seemed genuine.
Quicker than she would’ve thought possible, the waitress was back. This time she had two bottles of some sort of dark alcohol as well as a tiny bottle of water for Alexis that was no more than a shot itself. She was relieved that it was actually a bottle, though, because after all the stories she’d heard from Logan about what happened to women who accepted drinks without seeing them being made, she wasn’t going to take a chance and drink anything anyone in this bar gave her that wasn’t sealed from the get-go.
