by Ava Harrison
“You certainly are cranky in the morning.”
“Jesus, Harper, I had a late night. Sorry, if I’m not bubbling with excitement to see you before I’ve even had my first cup of joe.”
“Were you with him?” She waggles her eyebrows.
“Who?”
“Don’t be coy. The hottie from the diner.” She smiles.
“Oh god,” I groan, not awake enough to have this conversation.
“That’s all you’ve got for me? I’m going to need more details than that.”
“If that’s the case, you’re going to have to wait until I make coffee. You want a cup?” I ask, my back already turned to her as I make my way into my tiny kitchen—if you could even call it a kitchen. It’s a counter, a burner, and a fridge.
“That would be great.”
As the coffee brews, a sweet and robust fragrance fills the air, and my mouth waters.
“So . . .” she calls through the thin walls as if I’m going to get into it right now.
“Give me a second,” I yell back, waiting for the coffee to finish.
Grabbing two mugs, I fill them quickly and head back, plopping down on the chair kitty-corner from Harper.
“It’s not like that.”
“Why not? He’s sexy as hell, Bailey. And he seemed . . . normal.”
I glare at her insinuation that he’s not like all the others.
“Hate to break it to you, but I’m not his type. He likes overly fake, blonde bombshells.” I roll my eyes.
“Really?” She pouts. “I really hoped you were hitting that.”
“Harper!” I can feel my cheeks warming from her words. “Gross.”
She sits quietly. Too silent for her. When she finally speaks, I want to roll my eyes. “You know it wouldn’t be a bad thing for you to date, right?” Her voice is soft as she pulls me out of my daydream. “I mean, if you’re in the right headspace. What can it hurt?”
I glance up at her and notice her eyebrows creased as she takes me in. Strange. The way she says it almost sounds as though she’s inquiring if I’m in the right headspace.
“He’s not your sponsor, is he?”
And there it is. If he’s not my boyfriend, he must be a recovering addict because that’s the only type of person I attract.
“Come on, Harper, I learned my lesson. Things have changed. Can’t you give me the benefit of the doubt?”
“I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “I didn’t mean to say that. Of course, I know you’re different. You wouldn’t be in this city if you weren’t.”
I flick on the small television, needing something besides the silence we’ve settled into. A local news station featuring a brunette with high cheekbones is standing outside of Silver. I turn the volume up, curious as to what’s going on.
“Local club owner, Drew Lawson, is apparently shopping for commercial real estate.” A photo of Drew in a tux with a stunning blonde on his arm appears in the top right corner of the screen.
His piercing eyes seem to stare right through me. “No word on what he’s planning on opening, but I’m sure it will be nothing short of spectacular. This is Ava Porter. Back to you, John.” The screen goes back to a middle-aged man with a widow’s peak. I turn it off and whistle.
“Gross. Don’t fawn over that man,” Harper jeers.
“Why not? He’s pretty good-looking,” I retort, wondering where her hostility for Drew comes from.
“Because I’ve known about Drew for a while, and I can tell you, you do not want to crush on the likes of him. He’s a womanizer of epic proportions.” Each word is said slow and pointedly, but her words have me curious. What has Drew Lawson done to get on my sister’s do-not-ever-touch-him-or-else side?
“How do you know Drew?” I ask curiously.
“Ugh, his family is friends with Cal’s. Drew runs in the same circles, but they aren’t close. Acquaintances really.” She shrugs.
I find it interesting that she’s so adamant he’s no good. The guy is hot. I’m sure he can pull tons of women, and he sounds just like Cal was pre-Harper. Besides, Drew Lawson is so far out of my league, it’s sad. She has nothing to worry about, aside from the fact that I work for him.
“Listen, I know I screwed up in the past—a few times. But I’m not looking for another asshole, even if he’s a Greek god.” Shit. Did I just say that out loud?
“Bailey!”
Yep, she heard me. I’m going to need to work on putting a filter on my mouth. “Seriously, Harper, I like it in New York. I appreciate your concern, but you don’t need to worry about me. I’m not going to go screw things up. Okay?”
“Okay.” She nods, and with that, my past and all talk of Drew is dropped.
The day flies by super-fast. Harper stayed to chat for another hour or so before I headed over to the laundromat down the block to do a load. My closet was slim pickings for an outfit to wear tonight to work, so I was forced to wash my clothes. I had considered buying a new outfit in my laziness, but who was I kidding? I could barely afford food, let alone new threads.
Hours later, I can hear my heels clicking against the pavement as I adjust my skirt before pulling open the door to the club. As I walk in, I see Carter waving at me with enthusiasm. After only a few days, I already love him.
“Hey, love. How was your day?”
“Oh . . . just great, if you enjoy being woken up at the butt crack of dawn in the morning.”
“Well, I would flip that frown upside down and put on your biggest smile. Boss man wants to see you in his office.” His lip turns up as he winks.
Shit.
“Do you have any idea what he wants?” I ask, while internally freaking out.
“Nope, and even if I do . . .” He trails off, adding a wink for emphasis. “I’m not at liberty to disclose. He gives the orders, and I don’t question him.”
I watch Carter closely, but he gives nothing away. “Does he do that often?”
“Nope.”
“I’m not getting any more than that from you, am I?”
“Nope.” He shakes his head slowly.
“Ugh. You’re a pain in my ass,” I say, throwing my head back in exasperation.
“Yes, and you’ll have a bigger pain in your ass when my size twelve shoe meets it if you don’t get moving. Go,” he says, shooing me with his hands.
Carter unknowingly has my nerves calmed and my mind off what is waiting for me in that office. If nothing else good comes from working here at Silver, meeting Carter made it all worth it. I smile and head toward Drew, ready to get this meeting or whatever it is over with.
9
Drew
“Why, Drew? I just don’t get it! We could be good together,” Monica whines in her most annoying valley girl voice. And she wonders why I don’t take her seriously.
I groan, running my hands down my face.
“Monica, can’t you see I’m a little busy here?” I shuffle the invoices I was attempting to pay, hoping she’ll get the point that this conversation is done. “Get out.”
No such luck.
“You—”
She’s cut off by a knock on the door. “Come in,” I call out.
Bailey walks in, looking a bit awkward. It’s cute. “Um, Carter said you wanted to see me?” She rocks back and forth on her toes, looking very uncomfortable.
“Yes, come in, Bailey. We were just finishing up here.”
“This talk is just getting started,” Monica says in her most saccharine voice. She looks at Bailey, offering a small smile laced with venom before she stalks out. She probably thinks Bailey is my new conquest. That’s what I get for fucking with the help.
I have to start having a bouncer monitor who’s allowed up here.
Bailey stands just inside the door, wringing her hands together. She actually looks a bit annoyed, which is funny to me. “Am I keeping you from something, Miss . . .” I let that hang out there. Of course, I know her name.
“Jameson. My last name is Jameson, Mr. Lawson.�
�� Her tiny voice belies the strength she tries to exude, and I decide to have a little fun at Miss Jameson’s expense.
“Drew. There is no ‘Mr. Lawson’ here.”
She doesn’t say a word, only nods in answer.
“Bailey? Do you understand? Use your words.” I’m a condescending asshole.
“Yeah . . . Yes, I understand,” she says, clearly confused and utterly petrified.
“How is Carter doing with your training?”
She tilts her head to the side, studying me. “How’s my training?”
“That’s what I asked.” Her eyes are narrowed, not answering me. “Back to the reason you’re here. I’ll be shadowing you tonight, and I wanted to give you a heads-up. I’m trying to get a better feel for our current training program and how my employees interact with our guests. I’ve recently noticed some issues with blurring the lines between flirting and inappropriateness.”
She blanches. “From me?”
“No,” I correct. “I’m shadowing you because you’re new and utilizing that time to monitor the others’ interactions.”
Her shoulders relax, and the horrified expression melts away.
“While I shadow you, you’ll be training for bottle service. I need another person because we’ll likely be losing someone soon.”
Monica will have to go if she continues showing up in my office and begging me to take her. It’s becoming a real problem. Training Bailey is imperative to have her ready, just in case I’m forced to fire her. It also helps me keep an eye on Reese. He’s been frequenting the place more often these days, and something tells me it’s all about the girl in front of me.
“Wow. That’s . . . awesome.” She smiles. “I thought it would take months before that was a possibility.”
It typically would. Bottle service for the VIP rooms is a coveted position. The money is easily tenfold what she’s currently making on the high-top tables and the lounge booths. The girls who work the VIP rooms typically leave with three to four grand in their pockets. Second only to the bartenders.
“We’ve had a few regulars put in a good word for you. Keep up the hard work, and you’ll make bank. Head down to Carter and tell him you’re taking Lauren’s place tonight. She called in with a migraine, which is yet another reason I’m shadowing you.”
That’s a lie. I could easily have called in another more experienced girl and had them train her. This is purely for my own curiosity.
The night is spent mostly watching Bailey rule this position. She doesn’t need training, and she certainly does not need me tailing her. She’s a natural, and our VIPs seem to respect her—mostly. Some of these guys have more money than sense, making them grade A pricks. Nothing and nobody will ever make them happy unless they’re responsible for their bankroll increasing.
She doesn’t seem to notice the assholes of the bunch. She takes orders and ensures the glasses are always full, working the rooms with ease. In fact, I’ve never had a first night go this smoothly. It’s a bit perplexing. It absolutely takes all reason for me shadowing her away.
“Drew,” Samantha, one of the senior VIP girls, calls out. “Reese and his crew just showed up. They reserved room five, but I’m slammed with my rooms and helping out with the booths.”
“Where’s Amy?” I ask, wondering where my booth and high-top girl is.
“She’s on break.”
“Call her back early,” I demand, and she levels me with a you know that’s against the law look. “Fine. I’ll have Bailey take them.”
“The new girl? You’re going to throw her to the wolves?”
“I’m shadowing her tonight, so I’ll help out. Plus, she’s already proved she can handle them.”
Samantha quirks a brow and purses her lips.
“Whatever,” she drawls, walking off to tend to her customers.
“What’s wrong with her?” Bailey’s voice startles me, and I turn to her questioning stare in Samantha’s direction.
“Reese and his crew showed up, and she’s slammed. She asked if you could handle it.” I shrug.
“And? Is there anything I’m missing?” she asks, sounding a little self-conscious but standing tall despite it. It’s likely due to my staring at her like a damn predator. “I mean, I think I’ve done well since I’ve been working here.”
“You have.” I nod my head. “Better than most, I must admit.”
She chews on the inside of her lip, looking around the club before finally spitting out what’s on her mind. “Am I taking the table or what?”
“Do you think you can handle them?”
She bristles, placing both of her hands on her hips. “I’m more than capable.”
“I wasn’t insinuating you aren’t,” I defend. “It’s not your abilities that have me concerned. It’s the group of men. They’re . . . trouble, Bailey.”
“Oh,” she says, dropping her hands from her hips. “Well, I can handle them. I’ve done it before.”
I step toward her, reaching out on instinct and placing a strand of hair behind her ears.
“W-What are you doing?” she stammers, and I smile.
“Helping.”
She quirks her brow. “Touching me is helping?”
I smirk. “Bailey, you have no idea.”
She blushes ten shades of red before I continue. “I like your hair down, but keeping it off your shoulders will keep from getting hair in their drinks and food. These guys won’t be kind with an error like that.”
“Well . . . thanks.”
Outside of dealing with Reese’s rowdy group, the night continues on much like the first half. With me standing over her shoulder, Reese doesn’t give her a hard time. He also keeps his damn hands to himself because he knows better. I don’t have to do a thing. Bailey is on top of everything like a seasoned waitress. I’m impressed.
I’m standing outside of a room, answering emails when Bailey saunters up.
“I’ve got everything under control if you have work to do.” She motions toward my phone.
“You’ve done a great job for sure. I’m impressed, Bailey.”
“Then why are you still following me?”
I chuckle because what the fuck. This girl just called me on my shit.
“Maybe I’m enjoying myself.” I smirk. “Are you sure you want me to go?”
“I-you . . . yes,” she breathes the word.
“Enjoy your night, Bailey.”
10
Bailey
I stand outside of the VIP room, feeling shaken. Outside of a little of what felt like flirting, nothing had happened. He didn’t touch me, yet my skin is on fire as if he did. The words he spoke weren’t anything earth-shattering or inappropriate, but it was the way he said them. His husky voice. He left me feeling off-kilter.
He’s your boss.
Living life as a recovering addict, I’m always trying to avoid chasing highs. If it isn’t pills, it’s some other thrill. Having an addictive personality means I desire anything that’ll make my body crave it.
Drew Lawson makes me yearn for things I haven’t in a long time, and that’s a serious problem.
I shake the thoughts of Drew out of my head and work my ass off the rest of the night. Anything to keep my mind preoccupied. When the place is cleared, and everything is clean, Carter and I head to what has become our booth in the little diner down the street.
“How’d you do tonight?” he asks while leafing through his money stack and counting his earnings.
“Should you do that here?” I ask, looking around the mostly empty diner. “You’re going to get mugged one of these nights.”
“Probably not, but I’ve been saving for a motorcycle, and I want to see how close I am.”
“Ohh, sexy. I love a guy on a bike.”
“Sorry, love. Again, not my type. You’re hot and all, but you’re too vanilla. Plus, to be honest, I don’t shit where I eat.” He smirks.
I pout my lips. “That’s really too bad because you’re basically my drea
m guy. Life is not fair.” I throw a napkin across the table at my friend as he laughs.
“What was up with Drew following you around like a lapdog tonight?”
I purse my lips. “That isn’t normal?”
It’s a stupid question. Something about Drew tells me he typically leaves the training in other people’s hands. I just didn’t want to overthink things.
“Um. No. He rarely leaves his office other than to mingle with the clientele.”
“Oh.” It’s all I say, not wanting to give anything away, but it doesn’t work. By the way Carter’s eyes narrow, he’s onto me.
“Did something happen?”
“What? No. Why would you say that?” I ask in a rush of words, looking more guilty by the second.
“Oh, fuck,” he murmurs, slapping his palm to his head. “Please tell me you haven’t boned him.”
“Oh. My. God. Carter!” I reprimand. “Of course not. Are you insane?”
“Shh,” he says, waving his hand to signal me to lower my voice.
“There’s nobody in here.”
“Regardless, this isn’t a conversation to scream to the city. Drew is front-page news, and if it got out that he was sleeping with his employees, it would surely be newsworthy.”
“Number one, I’m not sleeping with Drew. Or anyone else for that matter,” I tack on for good measure. “For two, employees? As in plural?”
“Drew has a history with Monica . . .” His words trail off, and I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.
“So, the guy slept with his waitress. So what? How is that news?”
He laughs, but it lacks humor. “Drew is one of the most eligible bachelors in New York City, Bailey. That, in and of itself, makes anything pertaining to him, news. Every woman in the tristate area would be banging on Silver’s door trying to get a job. It would be mayhem.”
I roll my eyes at his over-exaggeration. Women can’t be that desperate.
Although, I do have to admit, he’s sex on a stick. Everything from the way he walks to the man’s voice is arousing. However, hearing that he slept with Monica does temper a bit of the heat I felt because that means I’m not special. My brow furrows at the thought.
