I looked down at the dirty, grime covered sidewalk. “I can’t walk barefoot. Only God knows what’s on the ground.”
“Fine. Suit yourself, but I’m starving.” He started to pick up the pace and I did my best to keep up, but it just wasn’t going to happen in these shoes. I sighed and leaned against a closed store window, taking off my now scuffed and scratched heels. As I straightened, relief washed over me now that my feet had been released from their designer prison.
“There. Happy?” I asked, stomping toward Liam, who watched me with an amused expression.
“You always this stubborn?” he asked.
“Only with cocky jerks who think they know everything.”
“Oh, Princess.” He slowly shook his head, a devious grin spread wide across his face. “You have no idea how cocky I can be.”
My mouth gaped and my gaze immediately dropped to his pants. Even in the dark light, I could make out the bulge.
Liam laughed and tugged open the door to a dingy little place with a torn green awning that said “rank’s.” The F had been worn away over the years, and based on the looks of the place, it had given itself a more appropriate name. I hesitated, watching the door swing closed behind him.
I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. With my shoes in my hand, I pulled open the door, hoping I wouldn’t end up with some kind of staff infection from touching the handle.
The inside appeared old, but surprisingly clean. The smell of fresh coffee filled the air and mixed with the sweet scent of maple syrup, bringing me an odd sense of comfort.
The entire room was covered in sad shades of yellow. The faded counter was lined in yellow Formica that matched the chipped tables, rubbed white in spots from years of being wiped down in the same circular pattern.
The guys were lined up at the counter huddled over their coffee mugs as I came in. I took a seat at the only open stool at the tiny counter between Al and Liam.
I scrunched my nose in disgust as my jeans caught on an old piece of duct tape that barely held what was left of the stuffing inside the cracked vinyl seat. Liam chuckled into his coffee mug beside me as I attempted to peel my leg from the sticky surface.
A heavyset waitress, who looked to be at least seventy with a nest of gray hair clipped high on top of her head, approached us pulling a pencil from behind her ear.
“Liam,” she said without looking up from her notepad.
“Hey there, Doris,” he said.
“The usual?”
“You got it.” Liam smiled and shot her a wink.
Doris turned to me, raising her eyebrow, impatiently waiting for my order. Taking a quick look around the place, I decided it was better safe than sorry and ordered a water.
“Not hungry?” Liam asked.
I took another look at the worn counter top, my face twisting with disgust. “How can you eat in this dump?”
“Are you kidding?” Al asked. “Frank’s has the best eggs benedict in city. Maybe the world.”
I snorted. “I seriously doubt that.”
“It’s like heaven in your mouth,” Al said. “You got to try it.”
“Ah, leave her alone, Al. She’s too good to be eating in a place like this with the likes of us.” His condescending tone did not go unnoticed.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
“Just what I said. I’m sure Frank’s food is too much for your sophisticated palate.”
I stared at him in shock. What a dick! Yeah, I grew up eating at some of the finest restaurants all over the world, but I was far from a food snob. I’ve had my fair share of diner food too.
I kept my eyes trained on Liam, my glare hard and unrelenting. “Doris, I’ll have what he’s having.”
Liam raised an eyebrow and I nodded, feeling a little victorious at having shown him up.
Al dropped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me in tight against his massive chest. “That’s my girl.”
My body tensed under his grip as he squeezed my shoulder harder than was necessary, before he finally let me go.
I took a deep breath trying to prepare myself to actually eat whatever slop Doris decided to bring me.
Sam laughed at something Al said and slapped the counter so hard the silverware jumped, and so did I.
“You seem a little nervous there, Princess,” Liam said.
I looked up at the ceiling and let out a long exhale. “How long am I going to have to endure the whole Princess thing?” I asked.
Liam shrugged. “Now that I know it bugs you, I’m thinking probably forever.”
“Such an asshole,” I muttered, resting my elbow on the counter and propping my head in my hand.
“For someone who desperately needs a job, you sure seem to have a problem with authority,” he said, taking a long drink from his coffee mug.
“Who said I was desperate?”
“I think accepting a job while sobbing in a bathroom qualifies as pretty fucking desperate.”
“Are you always such a dick?” I said, my voice turning shrill, catching Sam and Al’s attention. All eyes turned to me, but my focus remained fixed on Liam.
He smiled and set his cup down on the counter before turning to me. “Listen, Princess,” he said, causing my body to shake with rage. “Whatever bullshit you pulled to piss off Daddy ain’t gonna fly with me. If you think you can get your way by batting those pretty blue eyes and shaking your tits, then I suggest you find a pole to dance on because that’s not gonna cut it in my bar.”
My mouth was still hanging open when Doris brought out our food. I turned toward my plate, still in a bit of shock.
Al nudged my arm with his elbow. I turned to look up at him and he smiled. “You can shake your tits at me anytime you want, baby.” His smile widened as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively before digging in to his meal.
Sam looked around Al and shot me a wink. “Ditto.”
“Fuck you all,” I said, jumping down from the stool a storming toward the door.
Liam didn’t look up from his plate. “Your shift starts at ten. Don’t be late.”
***
The next day, I got up and got dressed, trading in my stilettos for an old pair of Chucks before I headed into work. I’m not the type of girl who normally admits defeat, but in this case my feet had waved the white flag for me, so I begrudgingly went with Liam’s suggestion to wear something more appropriate.
I pushed through the kitchen doors, just as Sam was coming out of the walk-in refrigerator.
“Well, well, well,” he said setting down a giant tub full of vegetables on the prep table. “Look who came back.”
I rolled my eyes and tucked my hands into my back pocket. “Where’s Liam?”
“He’s in the office,” he said, tilting his head to the right.
“Thanks.” I headed in the direction he pointed.
“Anytime, baby doll. Anytime.”
I couldn’t help but smile and shake my head as I walked away. Sam was a dirty old man, to say the least, but he was harmless. His eyes were kind and his features were soft and sweet. Despite his teasing, I didn’t get the creeper vibe from him, even though he spent most of the time staring at my tits.
I rapped my knuckles on the open office door, which was really more of a closet than an office. It only had enough room for a small desk with an open laptop and a filing cabinet pushed back into the corner.
Liam was bent over the tiny desk, sorting some paper work. “Yeah,” he said, without even looking up.
“What do you need me to do?” I skipped the greeting and got right down to business. I could play the game too. I could be just as much of a pain in the ass to him as he was to me.
He turned at the sound of my voice with a smirk, before returning to his paperwork. “Didn’t think you’d be back today, Princess.”
I gritted my teeth at the ridiculous nickname. “It’s Gwen,” I growled
Liam chuckled. “Whatever you say, Princess.”
I rolled my eyes and exhale
d. “You’re not going to give that up, are you?”
Liam spun around in his chair to face me. He trapped his pen between his lips, and smiled. He had the most perfect kissable lips. The dangerous kind that could bring a girl to her knees.
“Not a chance,” he said, his smile growing wider.
His voice and that mouth of his did a good job of breaking me out of my little fantasy. I straightened and narrowed my eyes in his direction.
He ran his eyes over me from head to toe, scrutinizing my outfit. I went for a more casual look today, skinny jeans and a V-neck t-shirt that still showed plenty of cleavage. If my first night as a cocktail waitress taught me anything, it’s that flirting and the right amount of cleavage can drastically increase your tips.
I was used to guys checking me out. If they didn’t, what would be the point of giving up carbs? So, I might as well put that attention to good use.
Liam leaned over and reached into a box tucked under a shelf behind his desk and tossed a black t-shirt at me.
I barely managed to catch it before it hit the floor. I shook it out and held it up for inspection. “What’s this?”
“Uniform. If you’re gonna work here, you’re gonna have to look the part.”
I held the shirt out in front of me. It was hideous, at least two sizes too big with The Den written in an old timey font that reminded me of a bottle of Jack Daniels.
“I can’t wear this.”
Liam turned back to his paperwork. “You can and you will.”
I considered showing him my middle finger but thought better of it and turned on my heel, heading to the bathroom to change.
As I passed by Sam, I spotted a pair of scissors tucked into a jar of pens by the door. I stopped and held the shirt out in front of me. A wicked smile spread across my face as an idea came to mind.
When I emerged from the bathroom, Liam was counting cash at the register. I sauntered up behind him.
“What do you think?” I said, showing off my creation by turning in a slow circle so he could get the full effect.
Liam turned his head toward me, his eyes widening as he took me in. “What the fuck did you do?”
“What? You don’t like it?” I asked, playing coy.
“You destroyed it.” His mouth said ruined, but the look in his eyes showed his approval even though he’d never admit it. Every inch of my exposed skin tingled under his gaze, sending a current of static electricity across my skin and straight between my thighs. I liked that he was looking. I liked it a lot.
“I improved it.” I cut off both sleeves and the collar so the shirt hung low on my shoulders and gathered the extra fabric in a knot on my hip for a little bit of midriff action.
“You can’t wear that,” he snapped.
I smiled and reached for a rag to start wiping down the tables. “I can and I will.”
Liam ran a hand down his face and sighed. He pushed past me and headed into the back, clearly annoyed, and maybe just a little turned on. Victory was mine.
***
Twenty-three—that’s the number of times some asshole referred to me as “sweet cheeks.” Usually, I am a fan of copious amounts of attention from the opposite sex, but when the attention came from a group of Neanderthals in flannel shirts, let’s just say I was less than enthusiastic.
This job was beyond revolting. The bar reeked of stale beer and body odor and I could practically feel my skin breaking out from the greasy food I’d been carrying around all night. I needed to find another job and fast before I completely lost my mind. Unfortunately, I was still coming up short on prospects.
I pushed through the kitchen door and a cloud of oily steam practically smacked me in the face. It would be a miracle if I could wash the stench of fried fish and tartar sauce out my hair at the end of the night.
Sam was at the grill flipping burgers and dancing as he sang along with the radio that played some old bluesy crap I’d never heard of.
I sighed and leaned against the wall beside the door, taking a break for a minute while I waited for him to finish up an order. I was beyond exhausted and in desperate need of a drink and a shower.
I felt my phone vibrate in my back pocket. I pulled it out as Dalia’s face popped up on the screen. I swiped a finger across it to answer.
“Where the fuck are you?” she screeched.
I rolled my eyes. “At work, bitch.”
“Work?” Clearly, she was unfamiliar with the term. “Blow it off and come meet us at Splurge.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
Panic started to set in. No way was I going to tell her that I was broke and working at a bar. She’d be here faster than I could blink for the chance to snap her fingers and order me around like a servant.
“I can’t just drop everything, Dalia. Some of us are adults and have responsibilities.”
“Since when does that include you?”
I ignored her dig and shifted my weight, trying to shield the phone from the kitchen noises and Sam’s singing.
Dalia and I went to college together and spent the majority of that time in constant competition. We were always trying to outdo the other—the hottest clothes, the hottest car, hottest boys. Everything she did was an attempt to prove she was richer, prettier, or just plain better than me. She was more frenemy than a friend, but she was also my last connection to my life prior to Daddy’s little melt down.
“Where are you?” she asked again.
“I told you, I’m at work.”
She scoffed. “I know that, but where?”
I looked around, a little frantic. There was absolutely no way I could tell her I was a waitress at some dive. I’d never hear the end of it and the last thing she needed was ammunition.
“I’m…uh…I got a job as a hostess at a super exclusive club downtown. You probably haven’t heard of it.”
“Try me.”
“Uh, Dalia, some VIPs just came in. I got to go, talk later.”
I quickly hung up the phone and tucked it back into my pocket, sighing in relief.
“You hear that, Sam,” Liam said, making me nearly jump out of my skin. I hadn’t heard him come in. “Sounds like we’re moving up in the world.”
I pressed a hand to my chest and took a deep breath, trying to get my heart rate to slow. “Jesus, you scared the hell out of me.”
Liam raised an eyebrow and smirked at me. “Something tells me it would take a lot more than that to scare the hell out of you.”
I narrowed my eyes. Asshole.
My phone started to vibrate again, but I ignored it.
“So, you think you’re too good to work here?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“It was implied, Princess.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” I pushed past him and reached for the baskets of fish and chips Sam had just put in the service window. My stomach churned from the grease that wafted up my nose.
“If you think this job is beneath you, there’s the door,” he said. “I could find someone else. Maybe even someone who could manage to bring the customers food they actually ordered.”
“You’re such a jerk, Liam.”
“Probably find someone with a better attitude too,” Sam said.
I shot them both a glare and pushed through the door to the bar. The job was beneath me.
I’m Gwen Stevens. My father is a fucking U.S. Senator. I’ve had dinner at the White House for God’s sakes. The fact that I’d been forced to take this bullshit job in the first place, was ridiculous in itself. Now, I had to put up with some dipshit who made it his mission to make my life even more miserable then it already was. Fuck my life, my dad, and fuck that self-important asshat.
Chapter 6
Liam
Obviously, I’d struck a nerve with Gwen. She spent the rest of the night—when she wasn’t glaring at me—slamming drinks and food down on tables, but at least she managed to slam the right food and drinks on the right tables.
I’d call that progress.
All in all, she wasn’t a horrible waitress. A spoiled selfish bitch, yes, but she worked hard and managed to be somewhat helpful in the process.
I heard the bell above the door jingle and I looked up as Drew walked in, raising a hand in greeting.
“Hey, man,” he said.
“Hey.” I nodded and headed to the tap to pour him his usual. I set a pint of Guinness on the bar in front of him. “Where’s your better half?”
“She’s going insane. The wedding is only a couple weeks out and we’ve only gotten a handful of RSVP’s. I had to get out of the apartment before I lost it.”
I laughed and tossed a towel over my shoulder.
“How’s Bridget doing?” he asked.
“Good. Still laid up, but she’s on the mend.”
“You get someone to replace her?”
I looked toward the kitchen door as Gwen pushed through like a tornado, making it swing violently on its hinges.
“Unfortunately,” I said, tipping my head in her direction.
Drew took a sip of his beer and smiled before turning his attention to the back. As soon as he saw her, he almost choked.
“Shit, man. You okay?”
He coughed and sputtered as he tried to catch his breath, the commotion catching Gwen’s attention. An evil grin spread wide across her face as she made her way toward us.
“Fuck me,” Drew said.
“I’m pretty sure I already did,” Gwen replied, biting her bottom lip with a predatory look in her eyes.
“What are you doing here?” Before she could answer, Drew turned to me. “What is she doing here?”
“Do you two know each other?” I asked, gesturing between them.
Gwen took a step toward him, her eyes never leaving him for a second. “Intimately.”
I frowned and looked back and forth between them as Drew began to sweat.
Gwen leaned toward him, and he retreated, stumbling off the bar stool and looking everywhere but directly at her.
She rested her hands on the stool he’d vacated, her arms squeezing her breasts together, giving both of us a clear view down her shirt.
“What the hell is going on?” I asked. “How do you two know each other?”
A Chance At Redemption (Madison Square Book 3) Page 4
