by Shay Savage
How can I possibly find a marriage prospect in this town? There isn’t a person here who doesn’t know exactly who my family is, and most of them will have figured out that I’m the head of that family now. Though the local authorities will make sure Jack’s death is ruled an accident, speculation about it will run rampant. What woman with any kind of depth would choose this life?
This is why crime families marry each other. Maybe I should make a trip to Chicago or New York to look up some old friends. It’s not like I’d consider someone from the Ramsay family.
I glance around the club, nodding and smiling to patrons who wave in my direction. I look over at the bar where Jude is hustling around, taking care of the regulars that perch there most of the weekend.
The only people sitting at the bar that I don’t immediately recognize are a man and a woman, presumably on a date. She’s dressed nicely but not provocatively or overdone, a pretty green blouse that complements her reddish-blonde hair and a modest, knee-length skirt. He’s more casual in a T-shirt and jeans. What’s left of his dark hair is unkempt, but she clearly spent some time with hers. He leans toward her to speak over the music, but she leans back a little when he does. Her smile is fake, and I conclude that this is a first date, and it’s not going well for her.
“You should go talk to her.”
I startle slightly, not expecting my father to suddenly lean over my shoulder. I didn’t even know he was here.
“She’s with a date.”
“So what?”
“So, she’s busy.” I turn my head to stare him in the eye, not wanting to let him intimidate me here, of all places. “What are you even doing here, Dad? This isn’t your scene.”
“Checking up on you is my scene.”
“Not here. You hate this place.”
“Sometimes you have to do things you don’t like to make progress.”
“What kind of progress are you making tonight?”
“You’re attracted to her.” He nods over to the woman at the bar. “I’m here to push you to go get her.”
“She’s with a date, dammit.”
“It won’t last.”
He could be right about that. Her posture is stiff, but the guy continues to wave his hands around as he talks and laughs. She clearly isn’t enjoying herself, and her date is oblivious to the way she turns away from him, fiddles with her hair, and looks up at the television on the wall as he talks.
Maybe I should ask her to dance.
I check out the dance floor, which is full of those college kids writhing around and jumping to the strong bass. A few more join the dancing. The floor starts to fill up as I look back at the woman at the bar and take a sip of my bourbon. My father backs away as a few people come up to me offering their support in my new role, but I’m not in the mood to talk business.
“Mr. Orso, it’s good to see you. I wonder if you’ve considered my offer…”
“Great DJ, Mr. Orso!”
“Let me offer my condolences…”
I close my eyes, ignoring all their words as I politely get rid of them, one by one. I don’t need to hear additional offers of sympathies tonight. I’m well aware that this luxurious couch, much like the office chair, is supposed to hold Micha’s ass by now, not mine. I don’t need the reminder that he’s gone.
I open my eyes. My father has departed, hopefully to go home. When I look back at the woman at the bar, I see Antony standing next to her date. Antony leans over the bar, grabs a bottle of vodka, and checks the label while Jude tries to get it back. In the process, Antony elbows the drink of the T-shirt wearing, bad date dude.
The man immediately jumps up, cursing as his beer dribbles down his jeans and onto the floor. He balls his hands into fists, rounding on Antony.
I can’t hear the words, but Antony’s smile and calm demeanor make it clear that he’s trying to apologize and get the man a bar towel and a new drink, but the guy isn’t interested. He gets up in Antony’s face, yelling words I can’t understand, while Antony’s smile goes from friendly and apologetic to something else entirely.
Jude quickly wipes the counter, also speaking calmly as he places another beer on the bar in front of the man’s seat. He moves around the bar to clean up the floor as well.
Forgetting the mess and Antony’s confrontation, I keep my eyes on the woman at the bar, watching the two men argue. She glances around, watching to see if anyone will intervene, but everyone here knows Antony, and no one is going to get in his way.
Except maybe her date, who is obviously an idiot as well as an ass.
Antony leans a bit closer to the man, narrows his eyes, and speaks. The man tenses before he pulls back his fist and lets it fly toward Antony’s face. It’s a glancing blow, and Antony barely flinches. He speaks again, and the man takes another swing. This time, Antony ducks away casually, grabs the man’s arm, and then pins him against the bar. Jude jumps back, hands raised.
The woman gets out of her seat and takes a step away, hands over her mouth as if to hold in a scream. No one would hear it over the music anyway.
Antony shoves him, and the guy goes sprawling on the floor, feet flying up into the air as he falls on his ass. Antony laughs, and Jude moves to finish cleaning up the spilled drink on the floor. He’s saying something, but I can’t hear him over the music, so I focus back on the woman.
She doesn’t go to her date’s aid, and I watch her more carefully as the man grabs the leg of the barstool to pull himself back to his feet. He rubs his shoulder, looks at Antony, and wisely decides to just sit back down. He puffs out his chest and smiles at the girl like he just won the fight. She looks more horrified than impressed.
She clearly doesn’t know him or at least doesn’t know him well. They exchange some words. He makes a casual wave in her direction, and her expression darkens. She speaks again, and he rounds on her, one hand balled into a fist.
Is he fucking threatening her?
I stand immediately, but Antony and Jude are closer. Jude says something first, but I only catch the tail end of his sentence.
“…time for you to go.”
“I didn’t fucking do anything!” the man yells and points to Antony. “That asshole is the one who should go.”
“I tried to apologize to you, dude,” Antony replies.
“Fuck you!”
“I think I’ll just leave,” the woman says as she starts trying to pay Jude for her drinks.
The idea upsets me instantly. This asshole has been, well, an asshole, and she’s the one who feels like she has to leave. I don’t like it at all. I shove the girls away and head over to the bar.
She starts to get up from her seat, but I place a hand on her shoulder.
“Hang for a minute, please,” I say calmly but loud enough to be heard over the music. “I hate to see your evening ruined based on his behavior. I also don’t want you to walk out of here by yourself with him still around.”
She looks up at me, a strange look in her eyes, but lowers herself back onto the stool. I nod at Antony, and he grabs the man’s arm, wrenching him off of the barstool. Threes appears out of nowhere, places his hand on the guy’s shoulder, and squeezes hard enough for the jerk’s knees to buckle.
“You’re gone, dude.” Antony hauls him toward the exit with Threes following behind, his hand still locked on the man’s shoulder.
I turn back to the poor woman who has had to endure all this crap and immediately start to wonder why I didn’t interrupt the date earlier. She’s absolutely gorgeous with bright green eyes lined with just the right amount of makeup to enhance but not look like a painted whore. A smattering of freckles dance across her cheeks, and it makes me think of old pictures of my mother.
Reminds me of mom. How cliché is that?
“I’m sorry,” I say to the woman. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she says. “It’s all good.”
“It’s not.” I shake my head. “I can’t stand that kind of behavior. I’m hoping yo
u don’t know the man well.”
“We just met,” she says, and my suspicions are confirmed.
“Internet date?”
“Yeah.” She laughs hollowly. “How did you know?”
“A hunch. Do you mind if I sit?” I indicate the now empty barstool next to her.
“I guess not.” She looks toward the exit. Jude and Antony are already walking back, the woman’s date discharged. “I think I’ll have to consider this yet another bad choice on my part.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” I say as I sit. “I’m not sure why anyone tries those apps, really.”
“Lack of other options,” she says.
“There have to be a few options out there that aren’t douchebags.”
She laughs and then quickly covers her mouth.
“Sorry for the language.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” she says. “He was acting like a douchebag the moment we got here. I should have trusted my instincts and left sooner.”
“Was he your ride?”
“No, thankfully. I took an Uber here. Lesson learned in the past.”
“I’ll have to make sure you get home safely, then.”
“No, that’s all right.” She glances up at me, and there is suspicion in her eyes. “I got myself here, and I can find my own way home.”
“I insist.”
“No.” She speaks firmly. “I can’t let you do that.”
“Since he’s been escorted out,” I say, “the club will get you a cab, no charge. Don’t worry about that. I just don’t want your whole night ruined. By the way, I’m Nate.” I hold out my hand, and she takes it briefly.
“Cherry,” she says, “and if you make any comments like the ones he made, I might have you escorted out, too.”
“Never,” I reply, glad I didn’t have a chance to say something asinine about her name. “So, will you please stay? At least for one more drink?”
She glances at her phone, seems to ponder my request for a moment, and then looks back at me. Her tongue darts out over her lips, and I feel my stomach tighten.
“All right. One drink.”
“Wonderful.” I smile at her, and she smiles back. It’s tentative, but I’ll take it. I turn to the bartender. “Hey, Jude!”
Immediately, the patrons sitting at the bar begin to sing.
“Hey Jude, don’t make it bad…”
Jude places his hand over his heart and belts out a few lines himself as he walks over to me with a big grin on his face.
“That has to drive you crazy,” Cherry says, snickering.
“You get used to it,” Jude replies with a shrug. “Occupational hazard and all. What can I get ya, boss?”
“Bourbon,” I reply, “and whatever the lady wants.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Cherry says.
“I do. I need to make up for the asshole you came in here with.”
“It’s not necessary,” she says. “Besides, I’m beginning to get used to assholes.”
“I hope I don’t fall into that category.”
“Not yet.” She eyes me, but her mouth is turned up as she presses her lips together.
Oh, so it’s going to be banter, is it?
My dick twitches.
“I’ll have to be on my best behavior,” I say with a polite nod.
“You’ve got tonight won,” Cherry says, “but the bar was set rather low.”
I have to stop myself from saying, “I think it’s rising.” It would be crass and over the top, but I can’t help thinking it.
“I guess internet dating isn’t going well for you,” I say instead.
“It is not.” Cherry holds her hands up in front of her as if surrendering.
“I’ve never tried it myself,” I admit. “My cousin has, but I’m not sure if the results could be considered quality dates. I honestly have no idea how people are supposed to meet these days, let alone avoid the assholes.”
Jude places our drinks in front of us and slinks away.
“No matter where you meet,” Cherry says, “there is always that chance.”
“Sounds like you’ve had a bit of experience there.”
“I have though this is the first one I’ve tried off an app. None of them have been worthwhile. I should probably just give up on the idea. For now, at least.”
“Just internet dating or dating altogether?”
“Either. Both. I don’t know.” She laughs. “They’ve all left a pretty bad impression.”
“How so?”
She takes a sip of her martini and stares at me over the rim of the glass. The look makes my heart beat faster, and I turn toward her, leaning an elbow on the bar and trying to maintain my casual appearance.
“Do you really want to hear this?” she asks.
“I’ve got to make sure I don’t make the same mistakes.”
She looks at me, blinks a few times, and then presses her lips together. I hope I’m not coming on too strong, but I want her to have a good experience here at my club. If I’m being honest with myself, I also want her to think of me as the person who improved her evening out and not think of Antony as some kind of savior.
“Right after high school, I was set up on a blind date by a friend of mine. In her defense, she didn’t know him. He was an acquaintance of her brother’s, and she felt awful about it afterward.”
“What happened?”
“At the start, the date was going fairly well. I should have known there was something wrong with him though.”
“Why is that?”
“He was rude to the bartender,” Cherry says, shaking her head. “Anyone who has ever worked any kind of service job knows to treat waitstaff well. He was impatient and rude. I should have just left then. Aaron—the guy I met up with tonight—was rude to the bartender, too. I guess I…”
“You what?” I ask when her voice trails off.
“I guess I haven’t learned that lesson,” Cherry finally says. “Rudeness should be a red flag, and I didn’t treat it like one. Like tonight, I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. I think it’s a female curse. We’re taught to always put other’s feelings before our own, always give people a second chance even if they don’t deserve it.”
“I think that’s the only way us idiot guys have a chance.”
“Anyway, at the end of the night, he offered to drive me home. I was a little hesitant to accept, but the date had gone pretty well, and I didn’t think it would be a big deal. After all, he knew my friend’s brother, and it’s a small community. Nothing bad ever happens in small towns like that.”
I tense. I have a horrible feeling about where this story is going, and if it’s what I think it is, I might have a very difficult time controlling myself.
“The bar was closing, and it was taking a while for the server to bring our checks.”
“He made you pay for your own drinks?”
“I was fine with that,” she says. “I prefer to go Dutch, especially on a first date. No expectations.”
“Hmm.” I don’t agree, but I back off, waiting to hear the rest of the story.
“We decided to go up to the bar to settle up, but he was still really impatient. He ended up cussing at the bartender and then walking off toward the parking lot. I waited, paid my own tab, and then wandered around in the parking lot for fifteen minutes looking for his car.”
“Wait…what? Are you saying he just left you there?”
“Left me there intoxicated in a dark parking lot at an unfamiliar bar at one in the morning, yes.”
“Motherfucker!” I nearly bite my tongue off. “Sorry…I shouldn’t have said that, but damn.”
“It’s all right,” she says with a laugh. “I believe that’s the exact word I used when he texted me saying he’d gone home, had a great time, and hoped we could do it again soon.”
“I can think of a few other choice words I’d have for him.”
“Believe me, there was no second date.”
“I s
hould hope not.” I shift forward and look her in the eye. “For the record, I would never do anything like that to you or anyone else.”
“Well, this isn’t a date, so you don’t get the opportunity.” She raises an eyebrow.
“Fair enough.” I lean back, trying to hold in a laugh. She’s toying with me, and I like it. “You said there were other bad dates? Or was that the worst of it?”
“Depends on what you consider to be the worst.”
“True enough.”
“Do you want to hear more?”
“Please.”
“All right.” She takes a longer swig of her drink. “The next horrible date I had was a few months after being ditched in the dark. I was working at a diner, and he sat at one of my tables. He was friendly enough, and I said yes when he asked me out, kinda on a whim.”
“Hmm, yes. Very whimsical of you.”
She laughs.
“Anyway, we met up at a bar the next town over. There was an eighties cover band playing that night, and he said he wanted to see it. Clearly, he didn’t really care about the band because he asked to take me home ten minutes after we met, started rubbing my leg and leaning really close to me. I kept backing away, but he wouldn’t stop.”
“Did you punch him?”
“No. I’ll remind you about that woman’s curse of kindness again.”
“Noted.” I raise an eyebrow as I consider this whole “curse of kindness” thing. I’d never heard of kindness being considered a curse, but Cherry seems convinced. I’m fairly sure my father would approve of the sentiment.
“Thankfully, someone else noticed how uncomfortable I was. He came over and sat down beside me, pretending to be an old friend. My date backed off, eventually took the hint, and left. I found out the guy who rescued me was actually the manager of the bar.”
“I bet he asked you out then.”
“No, he didn’t. He had a ring on his finger, so I assume he was just being nice.”
“Another reason to treat the bartenders well.”
“Yes, it is.” She holds up her glass, and we clink glasses briefly. “He was very helpful.”
