“No reason to be nervous.” He gives me a reassuring smile. “You don’t have to share anything you don’t want to.”
I let out a deep breath. I can do this. “I’ve been clean for two years,” I blurt out. His hand reaches across the table and I pull mine away from my neck and place my hand in his. He gives me a little squeeze, and I can feel my eyes begin to mist. “I used to be —I’m addicted to cocaine. It started out just a bump here and there, and next thing you know I was missing school, running up debt, and well, that was just the beginning.” Thinking of all the things I would do to get a hit makes my stomach churn. “I did some stuff I’m not proud of but then it got so bad. One morning I woke up—”
“You don’t have to tell me the details, Bailey.”
I nod. That’s as much as I’m willing to share right now.
“I know a thing or two about addictions. It’s been a tough habit to kick. I don’t know how you’ve managed to stay clean for two years, but one day you’ll have to share your secret to that.” He smiles.
“You have to be ready. If you aren’t, no program in the world will help you stay clean.”
“One day. Soon,” he emphasizes. “Thank you for trusting me. I won’t squander that trust.”
I believe him.
“School?” he questions.
“No. Right now I’m just trying to stay clean. It’s proving to be a test of wills living in this city,” I sigh. “I was taking classes, but I missed more than I attended. I dropped out to figure everything out. I want to go back, but I can’t afford it right now. I need to get caught up with bills and then I hope to start back up again.”
“I can imagine it’s tough working at the club. Reed’s rules help keep it out of plain sight, but I promise now that I know your truth, you’ll never see it out of me again. I’ve got your back.”
His sincerity warms me. “I’m happy I met you.”
“Me too.” His mouth parts into a huge smile. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,’” he says in his best Bogart impersonation and I can’t help but laugh.
“So model and actor, eh?”
He groans. “I don’t know if you can call it that when I haven’t had any work in over a year.”
“Why? I’d think people would be lining up for you.”
“It’s a hard business to break into. A friend was helping me get in front of the right people, but an accident happened and that all changed.” He has a faraway look. “Anyway, I just haven’t been motivated since. The lifestyle has a way of sucking the life right out of a person. I’m not sure I really need that. But like I said, one day soon I’ll hopefully be ready.”
I take a sip from my coffee and sigh at the bitter goodness. “How old are you?” I ask.
“A gentleman never tells.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not the saying.” I giggle.
“Since we’re friends and all, I’ll tell you my secret. I’m twenty-eight.” He mock-gasps. “Another reason the agents aren’t lining up at my door.”
“Twenty-eight is young,” I assure him.
“Not for a struggling model. I’m well past my prime. Twenty-eight is only young to be a club owner. If only I had Reed’s unlimited funds.” He shakes his head.
“Reed Lawson is only twenty-eight? That is really young to own a club. How does someone come into something like that? Family business?”
“Nooooo. That’s a long story, but I will say this. He was a pretty hard party boy several years ago, and after some shit went down he cleaned up and bought the club. He’s been on the straight and narrow ever since. He’s a good dude. You’ll meet him next week. He’s out of town on business right now.” He sips his coffee and yawns.
“I need to hit the sack. I can hardly keep my eyes open,” I draw out sleepily.
Damon insists on paying the bill and we say our goodbyes for the night—well, morning. Having a normal night out with a potential friend was just what I needed. I think I can do this city after all.
The week flies by and work has gotten easier. Damon is my saving grace. His witty banter gets me through the difficulties of working at a club, and knowing that once we are done cleaning for the night, coffee and greasy breakfast are my reward, sweetens the deal. The idea of chocolate chip pancakes really helps me get though the hurdles of the asshole patrons. It’s now Wednesday night and I’m shocked by how busy we are. It’s my first night to earn tips on my own and I desperately need it.
“You going to tell me what finally had you getting clean?” he asks out of nowhere as he wipes down the bar.
I look in every direction to verify that nobody heard him. “Geez, Damon. Can you air any more of my secrets? Keep it down,” I hiss.
“Sorry, I’ve just been thinking about it.”
I sigh. Peering once more around the bar, I find that everyone is deep in conversation and currently good on drinks so I decide to go for it. Maybe it’ll be what he needs. To know that everyone has a bottom and the bottom is ugly. It may just be the ticket to getting Damon on the fast track to sobriety.
“One morning, I found myself walking through a very bad part of town looking for a place to score. A dirty man, I think he might have been homeless, cornered me in an alley. He had a knife. He started to close me in and I was so scared. I thought he —I thought he was going to rape me. He pushed me to the ground and held my hands above my head. I spit in his face and he punched me in the eye.”
Damon’s eyes go wide. “I-shit, Bailey. I don’t know what to say. What happened after that?” he asks tentatively.
“While I wriggled in pain, screaming from the blow, he grabbed my purse and ran off with all my money.” I gulp. “That morning, I went to my first NA meeting.” Tears swell up in my eyes at the memory. “I came so close to being hurt that night… It was the push I needed to get help. I’ve been clean ever since.”
Damon takes my hand in his and gently strokes it, lifting me out of the fog of my memory. He pulls me into a brotherly embrace that lets me know that I have a support system here in New York. “I can’t imagine how scared you must have been,” he says in my ear.
“I was, but I’d put myself in that position. My drug addiction did it.”
“I want to get better. Will you help me one day?” Damon asks shyly.
I nod adamantly. My heart breaks for my friend. No matter how difficult it is to remain sober, it’s so much harder to get clean. The battle he has before him is one that I wouldn’t wish on anyone.
The night continues to get increasingly busier. I’m waiting at the bar for a rum and coke, when I see Damon reach under the cabinet and pull something from his bag. I don’t have to see it to know what it is. Instead of hunger for a hit, I’m disappointed for my friend. He can’t even go a few hours without a bump. I see Damon jump up and frantically start looking around for something or someone.
“What’s got you trippin, Damon?” I wince at my use of words. Brilliant, Bailey.
“Boss man’s here. We better get to work.” He shuffles to put the contents of his fist back into the bag. I shake my head at his obviousness. Anyone paying attention would know he’s acting suspiciously paranoid.
My gaze roams the room, squinting through the mass of people congregating on the dance floor. The crowd parts, and for a split second, my heart stops beating. I’m frozen in place, my hand trembling under its own weight. Directly across from me stands a divine creature. He is tall and sculpted from head to toe. His dark hair has that just fucked appearance that makes me want to run my hands through it. A Greek god among men. I have never seen a man that beautiful. He’s rendered me useless.
I watch him push his sleeves further up on his arms, showcasing toned forearms, and I notice the way he seems to be clenching his jaw. He looks almost irritated as he looks out into the crowd surveying the people. This man makes Damon look ordinary. It’s ridiculous.
“Drool much?”
I hardly hear Damon speak. I’m lost in a trance. Completely r
iveted by this man. “Who is that?” I sound breathless because I am.
“That, my dear sweet Bailey, is our resident hottie. All the boys and girls come to see him,” he says while pulling out a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue and pouring it into a tumbler from beside me. His irritated tone gives him away. He clearly does not like sharing the spotlight. I can’t help but tease him.
“And here I thought that title went to you.” I bite back a laugh, and from my peripheral I can see Damon smile.
“Oh, it does. He’s just the added bonus,” he says and I return my focus back to the dashing stranger. He practically glides down the stairs. I’m mesmerized.
“But who is he?” My eyes narrow and I can feel a line forming on my forehead as I try figure out who this man is. Everything Damon has said completely lost on my one track mind.
“Sweetie, by the way you’re looking at men tonight, yours truly included, I’d say you really need to get laid.” He chuckles. If only he knew what kind of a dry spell I was on, he wouldn’t be so flippant with those comments. It’s a travesty.
“Oh, shut up and just tell me who he is.” I need to know.
“Turn your head to me ‘cause I don’t want to miss your reaction to this bit of news.”
I roll my eyes blatantly at him as our gaze meets.
“That, my love, is Mr. Reed Lawson. Doesn’t it just suck that you have to look at that every night?”
Fuck. That bit of news just made this job a bit more interesting. But, Lord, will he be a distraction at the same time. I finally pull my eyes away long enough to wipe down the bar. My rag comes across more pieces of glass from Damon’s attempts at juggling bottles the other night. I toss the shards into the trash when the hair on my neck rises. I can feel eyes on me. It’s not a creepy feeling, just my body’s realization that I’m being watched. Raising my head slowly, I’m trying to find the person responsible for eliciting such a reaction, and my gaze collides with Reed Lawson’s from across the room.
I know I should quickly pull my gaze away, but I can’t. It’s like some force is holding my head hostage. The draw to him is innate. I can feel it in my bones. Maybe it’s just his incredible looks, but my body is telling me to pay attention. He’s looking at me with the same quizzical look. The look that implies he’s more than aware of me. It’s startling.
It feels like minutes, maybe hours, pass, but eventually Reed looks away. Another rejection, and this one stings ten times more than the frat boys from table three.
Reed
“God, that was a long night.”
I glance sideways at Damon. He’s our complainer. I usually ignore him, but tonight fucking blew and I’m not in the mood for his bitching. First night back from California and all hell breaks loose.
“I know thousands of people who would love to look at attractive people all night and leave with over five grand in their pocket.” I don’t mince words. He makes bank here, and I have a stack of resumes a mile high in my office belonging to people who would kill for his position.
“But you’d miss me.”
“Wrong, but I do know several people who would. So, for now you stay,” I say, only half-serious.
“What’s up with Jace and the crew these days?” Damon asks with a hint of annoyance.
“How the hell should I know? Piss them off again?” It wouldn’t be the first time his come-ons have pissed Jace off. I had to listen to the guy bitch for two hours a month ago about Damon’s antics, but I know that’s not it. Jace was pissed because I set him straight earlier in the night.
I caught Jace eyeing her as she walked past his room. When I called him out on it, he was his typical egotistical self. He and his douche bag friends thought they’d get some side action. Typically this wouldn’t bother me. I’d usually get him the intro. But for some reason, the idea of Jace touching her didn’t sit well with me. My conversation earlier tonight night with Jace basically went like this: The new girls aren’t to be fucked with, Jace. Touch them, talk to them, or even glance in their direction and you’re out.
I lost five great servers last month because of his shit. Bailey isn’t going to be the next casualty. I’ve never even fucking talked to the girl, but I can tell from one look that she doesn’t need Jace’s baggage. Based on her sister’s words, she needs this job. There’s more to that story, I can tell. Her eyes were haunted. She has demons. I can spot that shit a mile away.
“No, I really haven’t seen them. They were rude to my new trainee, Bailey, when you were gone, though.”
I raise my brows. “Does that really surprise you?”
“Yes. Usually they’d be all over her. Have you seen that girl?” He hoots.
“Yeah, I’ve seen her. What’s her story?” I ask, trying to sound aloof. The instant attraction I’ve had to her has me curious to learn more.
He looks at me for a beat too long. I can tell he has something to say, and it pisses me off that he’s hesitating to share it with me.
“What? Out with it, Damon.”
“Listen, Reed, you’re my boss and you’re a cool guy, but don’t mess with this one. I know you can have any girl in this club, but I can assure you, Bailey is not your type.”
“What exactly would you know about my type, Damon?”
“You forget that not long ago before you owned this place, you were just another partier hanging with us low-life wannabes hitting the powder.” I scowl to show that he’s riding a thin line with this conversation, but he continues. “I know the girls you go for, and I know who you steer clear of, and I’m telling you, Bailey is one you’ll want to avoid.”
“And if I don’t?”
“She isn’t a money chasing whore like Monica, and she isn’t the confident A-list girls you play around with on the weekends at your galas. She’s Lexi, man.”
The fact that he’s brought up Lexi has me reeling. He’s never thrown her in my face before. We went on working together after that night without a mention of her name until now. “What the fuck do you know about Lexi?”
“I knew her. You keep forgetting that at one time you weren’t my boss, Reed. Lexi was my friend. She was hooking me up with all the agents until that night.”
I see red. “Don’t ever speak of that night again. Do you fucking hear me? Never,” I seethe.
“I’m only saying she was my friend too. I miss her every day, and you tend to forget that part. I’ve gotten to know Bailey, and she’s a good girl, but damaged. She doesn’t need anyone messing with her.”
“I don’t remember asking you for your opinion on the matter. If you want to keep your job, you’d best remember who pays your damn bills.”
Damon throws his hands up in the air in defeat. “Okay, okay, I’m done. You make your own bed.”
I contemplate his words. He hasn’t told me anything I didn’t already suspect from observing her from across the room, but it has me curious as to what her secrets are. He obviously knows them, and I want to ask, but given his reaction to everything, it’s not a good idea. It’s clear that they’ve become friends in the short time she’s been working here. I’ve missed a lot this past week, but I definitely want to catch up where she’s concerned.
“I need to have her ready to run bottle service by next weekend. Send her to my office tomorrow when she gets here. I’m going to manage her training.” He looks at me warily but doesn’t argue. Smart move.
I lock the door behind Damon and make my way to my office. I have a few things to finish up before I can call it a night. I sit in my chair looking over the books, but I can’t think straight. Tonight just keeps playing in a loop in my head. There is just something about her. She’s gorgeous, no doubt about it, but there’s something else. Maybe it’s a kindred spirit type of thing.
Holy shit, I sound like a fucking girl.
I can’t lie. She’s the polar opposite of my typical type. I go for the standard model heiress. I may be equal opportunity for blondes, redheads and brunettes, but I do prefer the highbrow girls. They aren’t
out for my money. Being wealthy brings a slew of gold diggers trying to cash in on my fortune by way of a child. It’s sick but true, and typically the wealthy girls aren’t in a hurry for anything more than a fling.
Everything from her ratty jeans and scuffed up shoes would indicate that she works for what she has, and what she has isn’t much. Not that I have to guess about her situation. I know a little bit about Bailey’s family from her sister Leah’s fiancé. That douche and I grew up in the same social circle. Our parents were friendly, but we simply tolerated each other. He said Leah’s parents are police officers or something like that—middle class. Yeah, she’s definitely not like the others I currently call on nightly.
I could see her thirst for what the patrons of L.E.X. have. The envy was pouring out of her. If I had to watch her run her hands through her silky brown locks one more time, I was going to lose it. The whole night, she kept tugging on her hair. It’s obviously her tell. The more I watched her, the more I wanted to touch her.
Bottom line, I want to fuck her. Plain and simple.
My best bet is a cold shower and some sleep. I’ll tackle my Bailey quest another time.
Bailey
I wake a few days later to a banging on the door. What the fuck is that? And what the hell time is it? I peek my head out from under the covers and look over to my clock that is illuminating in the pitch-black room. Black out shades—the best investment I made on my crappy walk-up apartment. The banging continues. I stifle a groan, knowing there’s only one person in the world who would be knocking at my door at nine in the morning on a Saturday. On any morning to be honest.
Leah.
Throwing the blanket across the bed, I jump up and pad down the hall. My feet angrily hit the wood floors with each step I take toward the door. I peer through the peephole before swinging it open. Never can be too safe, especially with where I’m living. It isn’t that my apartment is in an unsafe area per se, but the safety precautions are definitely lacking in the building. Case and point, unwanted visitors being able to enter the building without me knowing. I tentatively pull the door back, not ready to meet the bubbly eyes of Leah. She beams up at me. Letting out a long sigh, I open the door wider and allow her in.
Hard Ball Page 13
