Shiver

by Brandy Schmitt

  “My text said eight. It’s barely four. Explain yourself!” Hunter said coming to stand between them and the people at the bar, his hands planted firmly on his hips.

  “I-I’m sorry. I came here with Nikki. She left her purse here last night.”

  Nicole noticed every time her rough and tough friend got anywhere near this man, she tucked her hard shell tail between her legs and slipped into gooey putty in his hands. It was disturbing to watch.

  “Do I have the job?” Nicole asked Lou bringing his attention back to hers.

  Lou smiled. “Hell yeah, you have it. I haven’t had a girl give me wood in years.”

  Nicole would have thought a statement like that would be pretty gross coming from an older man, but with Lou, it wasn’t creepy at all.

  Her eyes drifted back to Hunter’s friend, who had entered the room late. His little side smile and daring eyes ate into her, and in that moment she realized, given half a chance, he could be extremely bad for her.

  “I don’t have to get completely naked, do I? I don’t think I would be comfortable doing that.” She needed to be up front on her standards. The older man looked over at the other men in the room as if to weigh in their thoughts on the matter.

  “I say let her do it, Lou. Men will pay big money to see her even if she does leave clothes on,” her handsome stranger called out with a smug smile. “You don’t want to lose one that good before you even get her.” She heard the strong, Irish accent in his voice.

  “We don’t do completely naked here. We don’t carry the right licenses. Just keep the dancing as smoking hot as that one, and you’ll be fine. You start tomorrow but not as a dancer. I need to get you set up with some of the other girls. They will show you around and help you with a routine and costumes. You’ll need a stage name if you don’t already have one. You never know when a customer is going to turn into a stalker fan. All my girls have stage names for their own safety. All girls are required to do two dances a night, maybe more until I get some of the other girls back. When you’re not dancing, you work the tables on fight nights and DJ nights. Be back here tomorrow night to wait tables. I’ll move some girls around to cover the stage tonight.”

  “That sounds great.” Thankful to have found a job so quickly, she felt relieved knowing she could finally pay her own way before too long. She didn’t need her father or Mark and all their demands.

  Before she could turn away, the guy she couldn’t keep her mind or eyes off stepped closer to her. “Congrats on the job. I think a welcome to the family is in order.” His lips curled into a smile, and she lost all abilities to think.

  “Thanks.”

  He walked away, joining Hunter on the other side of the room. How in the world had this stranger gotten under her skin so fast? She needed to get out of here and get her mind back on track.

  “Lou, one more thing?” Nicole asked pulling the older man back to her attention. “Do you have my purse or not?”

  Chapter Three

  By the next night, dressed in a black, Big Dogs T-shirt and a pair of tight jeans that no doubt showed anyone the complete in-depth details of her ass, Nicole was ready for her first day of work. She started her night off with Ally, a beautiful blonde in her early twenties who gave Nicole a tour of the bar and all the backrooms.

  Tonight marked her first night in the bar, and it happened to be Sunday fight night. Nicole glanced up at the banner draped across the open doorway leading into the cage room. Ally explained that Ice was Big Dogs’ in-house fighter and weekday bartender. The mixed martial arts drew the younger crowd into the bar. Friday and Sunday nights were the only fight nights with the exception of Saturday night title matches. All fights were followed by a live band to keep their customers happy and drinking.

  Ally warned her that tables filled up fast, and the place would be hopping until closing. She also said the tips were the best part of the night. The girls all told her that on a busy Friday night, it was easy to bring home two hundred dollars or more in tips.

  “This is your section. You have from the bar to the backroom and cage-side. Don’t worry, most people who go back there are easy beer drinkers. We have a back bar over there, but remember, if you’re running tabs make sure you keep them at one bar only. This stops people from double ordering and not getting charged.”

  Nicole nodded, trying to remember all the information getting piled in her mind.

  “Kitchen closes at ten. After that, it’s cold-cut sandwiches and last call is at one forty-five.

  “I think I got it.”

  The waitress patted her on the shoulder and offered her a genuinely sweet smile. “You’ll do great. I’ll be over there in the next section if you need me.” She handed her a note pad and pen and indicated for her to tuck them into her apron pocket.

  Two hours later, the place was jumping for a Sunday night, and it was barely going on nine-thirty. Nicole’s feet were sore and aching, but no way was she going to give up on her first night. She actually liked her new job so far. She didn’t care for the whistles and cat calls that happened every time she walked by a group of men or brought beers to the college boys. But for the most part, her job kept her busy and time flew by, and Ally had been right, the tips were great.

  Loud hoots and hollers lingered in the air of the backroom as she rounded the corner entering the cage room. The huge, metal cage took up twenty feet, dead center of the room, and stood nine feet in height. Luckily, it wasn’t too big that the room couldn’t hold it along with all the spectators beginning to circle it.

  She worked her way to the backrooms where Ally had earlier pointed out as the fighter’s locker rooms. She held a tray of shots and water bottles with no idea of where she needed to take them or whose order she carried. Ally had instructed her to get the drinks to the room before the fights started. She made her way behind the ring and down a poorly lit hallway, toward the loud echo of voices coming from a backroom. When she turned the corner, she landed right in the middle of a crowd of people. Girls were all done up in their makeup and miniskirts as they lined the walls talking with each other or playing on their phones. It looked like they were waiting to get into a concert. She elbowed her way through the crowds with her tray in hand, stopping at every open door to poke her head inside. The in-house rock band, Fury, also had their dressing room back here. That explained the growing number of young, mini-skirted groupies. As for the band, she had heard them practicing earlier in the evening; they were actually good. No wonder all these girls were spending hours waiting in a hallway to get a glimpse of them. Of course, their good looks and rock-god status didn’t hurt their popularity either.

  As she worked her way further back to the last door, the crowd grew thicker. She pushed her way through the people in the crowded room. “Who ordered the shots?” she asked, her voice not strong enough to cut through the conversations around her. She tried shouting again. A little louder this time, and still, no one paid her any attention. Letting her anger start to get the better of her, she set her tray on the small end table next to the couch, and climbed up bracing her weight by placing both her feet on the back of the couch and her hands flat against the low ceiling before clearing her throat.

  “Who ordered the damn shots?”

  This time every voice stopped in mid conversation as every pair of eyes turned toward her. Satisfied with her take charge attitude, she raised her chin another notch to hold onto her new confidence.

  “Over here,” a voice from the back called out. Using her new vantage point above the crowd, she turned in circles until she found where the voice emerged from. The noise in the room picked back up, and once again, she was forgotten.

  Grabbing the tray, she made her way toward the side of the room. “Someone here have a standing order for shots?” she asked.

  Another doorway sat off to the side of the room that adjoined the first. Stepping into the much smaller and quieter room, it looked like a typical dressing room would. Not that she had ever been inside one, but th
e room housed a wide, flat-screen television in one corner with plenty of seating around it. An open closet against the far wall held different colored silk robes. There were two more couches in the middle of the room that faced each other and sitting on each one were two men. Two of them were older and two were younger by at least twenty years. It seemed like an odd pair since one older guy and one younger each sat together. Her eyes scanned over them quickly, trying to see if she recognized any of the faces. When her eyes fell on one of the younger men, her thoughts about the other three guys faded away.

  He was here.

  Of course, working here she was bound to keep running into him.

  Her breath stopped for a second in the middle of her chest. She couldn’t get over how good-looking this guy was. He was one of the most gorgeous men she had ever laid eyes on. His dark-blue gaze zeroed in on her, and a strong twitch rippled over the muscles in his jaws. His brown hair fell just over his forehead, and her fingers itched at the thought of running them through the silky strands. His hard-set features and tight stare made him look hard and mean. Definitely, not the kind of man she would want to piss off. His gaze flicked away from hers, and her heart melted into a puddle in her chest. One of the guys on her right glanced up at her drawing attention to her obvious staring.

  “Earth to sex kitten. It’s about fucking time you brought the shots. What part of standing order do you not understand? Are you all as dumb as you look?”

  It took Nicole a total of four seconds to realize the jerk’s insults were directed at her. Sex Kitten? What the hell?

  She went from nervous newbie to pissed the fuck off in a very short amount of time. She took a breath in before turning a heated gaze on him. “It’s my first day. They only just told me a few minutes ago there’s a standing order for drinks. I have them now, so there’s no harm done.” She moved closer to the men, setting the drinks on the table between them. “Enjoy,” she said, with the smuggest voice she could force for the asshole.

  “This one’s a bitchy one, isn’t she? What the hell is Lou thinking hiring all these fucking dumb asses? I know the girl’s got a body but if he’s hiring them for their tits and ass, just open a fucking whorehouse.”

  The sound of the man’s throaty laugh made her skin crawl, and her rational thinking fled her mind. How dare this man treat her, or any girl, like this? She needed to turn away and leave the bastard alone but where would the fun in that be? Not giving a damn in the heat of the moment that it could cost her new job, Nicole turned her sexiest, dumb-blonde smile on the rude guy and sashayed her ass closer to him.

  “I’m so sorry I didn’t bring your drinks right away. Here, let me get that for you.” Her voice curled into the sexy sex kitten he called her. She picked up one of the bottled waters off the tray and leaned her body into his until the opening at the top of her shirt put her breasts on display. Her ass perched high in the air as she bent at the waist in front of him. She was likely putting on show for the hottie on the other couch, but she didn’t care at the moment. This guy needed a lesson in manners.

  Bracing her weight with one hand on the arm of the couch, she lifted the bottle and brought it between them. “You know, since I’m new here and I don’t know all the ins and outs, I’ll need someone to tell me when I’m messing up. However, that someone will not be you. Do not ever talk to me like I’m a dumb blonde, here for your amusement again.”

  His eyes grew wide with shock, and she took that moment to toss the liquid from the bottle in his face. Standing straight, she watched the man wipe his face with a little happiness curling up on the inside of her chest.

  Her newly found happiness shattered when the man jumped to his feet wiping the last of the liquid from his eyes. “You little fucking bitch. I’m going to…” The man raised his hand as if he were going to slap Nicole in the face, but when his arm swung back it was stopped in mid-air by a strong hand wrapped around his wrist. She hadn’t even seen the hottie stand from the couch and now here he is, saving her again.

  “Don’t even fucking think about it.” The blue-eyed hottie’s deep, Irish-accent wormed its way into her body and straight down to her core. His words were spoken in clear English, but there was no mistaking he was from another country.

  “What the fuck, Ice? This bitch deserves to get knocked down a peg or two. Fucking bitch,” the older man shouted yanking his hand out of Ice’s grip to take his seat on the couch again. Nicole’s gaze darted to the dark-blue eyes staring back at her. He quickly dropped his gaze away from hers and led her out of the room.

  Once the two of them moved into a separate room, he turned toward her, locking his gaze on hers once again. “We have to stop meeting like this, little one. I think we should get you a bodyguard.” His tone slightly, lifting her mood from the sourness left behind by the asshole.

  “Ice, is it? That’s your name?” It wasn’t normal by any means, but this guy sure as hell didn’t strike her as normal.

  “That’s me.” He stuck his hand out to shake hers.

  She hesitated for a minute before taking his offer. “Thanks again, Ice. Hopefully this will be the last time I’ll need rescued.”

  “If not, you know where I work. Take care, Nicole.” He turned back to the room, leaving her standing in the loud crowd once again.

  ****

  “What the fuck, man? Are you off your game today or what?”

  Ice heard the familiar voice screaming up at him from the side of the ring. What the fuck did Maverick want from him? He brought home win after win, making tonight the eighth one in a row—a new personal best. He was on fire in the ring.

  If he kept this winning streak up, by the big fight at the end of the month, he would have the longest winning streak of his career to charm the agents with. He needed to do all the charming he could. The championship fights in a few weeks could give him a future in the ring. A chance like this had been the reason he had worked and trained every day since getting off the streets. He fought his way through hell and back to get this opportunity, and there was nothing he’d allow to stand in his way.

  Ice hopped down the steps of the cage, and the crowd went crazy. Swarms of people were standing around grinning from ear to ear, waiting to talk to him and congratulate him on his win.

  “You damn near lost it, kid. Where the hell is your head? Because it sure as hell wasn’t in the ring where it should have been!” He heard Maverick’s voice as he fell into step behind him. They made their way down the dark, crowded hallway and through the backroom to his dressing room. Maverick wanted to know where his head was, but there was no way he could tell his coach the truth. He’d get lectured again.

  He had been fine until Nicole walked through the damn door. Those sexy, brown eyes and pink, full lips caused his balls to tighten up just looking at her. That was what he had been thinking about. After he stopped Big John from trying to slap the girl, he had wanted to kill the fucker for even thinking about hurting her. Those thoughts were crazy, since he didn’t know the first thing about her besides her name, and that she was the new waitress at Big Dogs. Not to mention, she gave him the biggest hard-on of his life with that sexy, little dance number yesterday, and she’d been fully clothed.

  Ice entered the nearly empty dressing room and headed to the other adjoining room. Maverick followed, closing the door behind him.

  “We won, didn’t we?”

  “Damn it, Ice. You know as well as I do that kid fucked it up. It’s a good thing he did, or he would have had you that last round. This is your dream, kid. Wherever your head is, make damn sure it doesn’t go back there again when you’re in that damn ring.”

  Ice glared at his coach of the last three years. The man was right. Maverick the Mauler was a retired American MMA champion turned coach. A world champ in the nineties, to this day he had guys lining up outside his gym to work with him. That’s how Ice had met him.

  He started going to Maverick’s gym where all the wannabes went for a chance to work with the legend and to trai
n for their chance in the ring. After a month of fighting his way from the bottom, Ice earned his own one-on-one time with the Mauler. Once the two of them set foot in the ring together, they had been nearly inseparable. Maverick once told him he saw something in him that he hadn’t seen in the others. The will and the fight to come out on top. Which is exactly how Ice felt about it himself.

  Running a hand over his sweaty hair, Ice fell to the couch letting out a sigh. “Shit. I know, boss. Maybe it’s all that drama with Big John and the waitress earlier. Dickhead.”

  Maverick stood by the open doorway, a look of understanding across his features. “Look, kid, I get that you don’t like seeing people get hurt, but sometimes shit isn’t your battle to fight. Now ice those hands for tomorrow, and get some damn sleep for once. Next Friday will be here all too soon. Let’s go for nine in a row.”

  Maverick left the room leaving Ice to himself. He headed into the bathroom and took a quick shower, threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and a black hoodie. He wanted a damn drink, but if he walked out there with all those fans still hyped up from the fight, he’d likely to be mauled by the crowd. He had made that mistake once before.

  Throwing on a ball cap to help hide his face, he threw the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and left the room, exiting through the back of the building and walked around to the front. No one would expect to see him entering from the front doors. The crowds would be waiting by the cage for him to come out of the locker room where he disappeared into. Entering the bar from the front, he was able to sneak right in and get a small table upfront by the stage. He wanted to hear Fury play their last set and enjoy a cold drink without being hassled by fans. He took a seat, and that sweet voice from earlier rang in his ears.