Colorado 02 Sweet Dreams (7 page)

“Don’t know if I’m allowed but seeing as you had to wake up and all, you deserve a draft.” I grabbed a mug and went to the taps. “And anyway, maybe me serving you will get me fired.”

“You wanna get fired?” Jim-Billy asked.

“Right now I do,” I replied.

“You been here two days, woman,” Jim-Billy reminded me. “And three days ago you practically begged Krystal to take you on.”

“Yes, but I got to work with Krystal those two days, Tate’s in today,” I told him, filling the mug with beer.

“Darlin’, every other waitress in this bar and most the women in this town would think it the other way around,” Jim-Billy returned.

“I’m not them,” I retorted, pushed back the tap and took the beer to Jim-Billy seeing his eyebrows up and his forehead scrunched together in long lines.

“You got a problem with Tate?” he asked in disbelief.

Seeing that even though Tate wasn’t nice enough to know better but I was, I didn’t share by saying words I shouldn’t say.

I threw a beer mat in front of Jim-Billy and put his mug on it. “We just don’t see eye-to-eye.”

“Shit,” Jim-Billy muttered and I saw he looked like he was fighting a smile.

“Shit what?” I asked.

“Nothin’,” Jim-Billy mumbled into the beer mug that was at his lips.

“Shit what?” I repeated and Jim-Billy took a sip then grinned at me.

“’Nother time, Lauren, when you aren’t on and you and me are shootin’ the shit, drinkin’ a brew, I’ll tell you shit what.”

“Jesus, Billy, we aren’t open for twenty minutes.” I heard Tate say and I jumped a mile as he walked up behind me and then stopped at my back, just to the side but then leaned a hand into the bar so he was totally in my space. So totally in my space, I felt the heat from his body and if I moved, I knew my shoulder would brush his chest.

I was forcing my body to stay still again while Jim-Billy was surveying Tate and me and continuing to fight his smile.

“You know how it is, Jackson,” Jim-Billy replied and that was the second time I heard someone refer to Tate as Jackson and I wondered why. Was that his last name?

“I know how it is, Billy,” Tate said in that soft voice of his. Then he said, “Ace, you gonna wipe down those tables or what?”

I twisted my neck to look at him to see he was staring down at me and he was closer than I expected and I expected him to be pretty danged close. He was also back to looking impatient and I resisted the urge to give him a sharp elbow to the ribs.

“Right away, oh Captain, my Captain,” I mumbled and moved away, nabbing the spray and cloth.

* * * * *

“Two Miller Lites, a vodka rocks and a Jack and Coke,” I ordered from Tate, my eyes bent to my pad of paper where I kept my notes as to what I ordered.

I learned about two hours into my shift that this was a perfect way of avoiding eye contact and pretending he didn’t exist at all. If I tried hard enough, I could almost believe my drinks appeared by magic.

Now it was ten minutes from the end of my shift and I was nearly home free.

This tactic had worked beautifully and I’d been able to do it nearly my entire shift seeing as we were busy nearly all day. Ten bikers roared in at one thirty and hadn’t left and with the drifters and the regulars I’d been pretty much on the go which was an excuse to be away from Tate.

I was also attempting to ignore Tate’s very existence by sliding into research mode, trying out strategies in an effort to up my tips. I was keeping track and I figured what I was doing was working.

My first strategy was to be a little more friendly and talkative, take a little more time and hang out and it appeared the boys liked that. So, since that worked, my next strategy was to find out names, memorize them and use them. Even if you weren’t at your regular bar, anyone liked to be made to feel at home, and nothing felt like home more than someone knowing you, or acting like they did, or at least that’s what I guessed and, from keeping tabs on by my escalating tips, I was right.

In no time at all, I found when I was in my approach to see if anyone needed a fresh one, eyes slid to me, smiles lit faces and the witty rapport would ensue, sometimes even before I made it to them they’d call out a joke or a silly compliment I knew they didn’t mean.

And sometimes they’d order drinks even though their last ones weren’t close to empty.

And my tips went up and up.

Because of this, I was pretty pleased with myself and my efforts for the day even though they came on a day I had to share with Tate.

“Babe,” Tate called, taking me from my end of shift pleasant thoughts.

“Yeah?” I answered, pulling a pencil from behind my ear to make my additions to my pad.

“Ace,” he called.

“Yeah?” I answered again, scratching on my pad.

“For fuck’s sake, Lauren, look at me,” Tate demanded and my head came up because he used my name for the first time ever and also because he sounded slightly angry.

“Yes?” I asked.

He was leaning into the bar with both fists on the top but out to his sides. This could be a casual stance for some but for him it seemed both aggressive and dominant.

“What’s your game here?” he asked.

“Sorry?” I asked back, confused at his question and his apparent irritation.

“Your game,” he repeated then went on, shaking his head. “Fuck it, I don’t care. Just stop playin’ it.”

My head tipped a bit to the side when I asked, “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t be stupid,” he answered and at his words, I edged closer to the bar as I felt my temper snag.

“Stupid?” I whispered.

“Gettin’ friendly with those guys to make your point.” He jerked his head to the pool tables to his right where my most generous customers, and my new best buds, the bikers from one thirty had been camped out.

“What point?” I asked.

“And don’t think I’m stupid,” he told me.

Now I was really confused.

“I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“You do if you think I don’t get your game.”

I changed tactics. “Why’s it stupid to be friendly? I thought it was my job.”

“Your job is to turn drinks, not flirt and get yourself into trouble.”

Now I wasn’t confused and my temper wasn’t snagged, it was frayed.

I leaned into the bar too, put a hand on it and my voice got quiet as I hissed, “I’m not flirting!”

“Babe, shit, seriously? Do I look dumb?”

“No, but you are if you think I’m flirting,” I replied and I watched his face grow hard.

Then he leaned in further too, taking his fists from the bar and leaning onto both of his forearms, one resting on either side of my hand so he was in my face.

“Knock it off,” he ordered and the way he said those three words, I knew he wasn’t irritated, he was, for some reason, angry.

“I’m not going to knock it off,” I said. “My tips are awesome!”

“You think we had problems before, you keep playin’ those boys, you’ll see what a problem with me means.”

I stared at him.

How could he have problem? He said half his waitresses were terrible, one would think he’d leap for joy to get a friendly one who sold a lot of booze.

“Have you been sampling your wares?” I asked only half sarcastically, the other half was seriously but he didn’t take this very well for he leaned in even further so he wasn’t only in my face, he was an inch away from it.

“Don’t try me,” he bit out.

“Don’t threaten me,” I shot back.

“Hey! Cool!” We heard shouted, Tate’s eyes went over my shoulder and I twisted to see a very petite woman running at me. She had dark hair cut in a short pixie that looked great on her, a friendly open face with big, doe eyes, she was wearing a t-shirt that said “McLeod’s Gym, Burn It!”, a pair of jeans and flip-flops and her face was devoid of makeup.

And she was also cut, as in,
cut
. So in shape I could see all the muscles in her arms.

She skidded to a halt in front of me, this perfect stranger, and then she wrapped her toned arms around me and gave me a hug. Stiff in her arms, because of my nature, I still couldn’t stop myself hugging her back.

“Hey!” she shouted, head tipped back to look at me when she let me go and backed up a half a step. “I’m Wendy. You’re Lauren! So cool!”

“Hey,” I replied, deciding automatically that I liked Wendy. Back in the day, with my family especially and early on with Brad, I was a cuddler. I liked to touch. I liked to hug. I liked to snuggle and hold hands. With my Mom, my Dad, Caroline, Brad – anyone really, if we were close.

Those days were gone, I hadn’t had a hug in a long time and it didn’t matter that it came from a perfect stranger who, even petite, looked like she could snap me like a twig. I still liked it and I liked her.

“I heard about you. Jim-Billy and Nadine said you were neat and I can’t
wait
to work with you! Won’t that be fun?”

She was rolling up and down on her toes, filled with such energy and enthusiasm it was unnatural. It felt like she needed so much she was sucking it from the very atmosphere, including me.

“Yeah, fun,” I said on a smile.

She leaned to the side and waved. “Hey Tate.”

“Wendy,” Tate returned.

“I’m gonna go dump my purse. Why don’t you hang out during my shift so we can chat?” she asked.

“Um…” I said, preparing to answer (and that answer, due to Tate’s presence and weird behavior, would sadly be no) but before I could speak, she rounded on a foot and dashed around the bar.

“You got any tabs runnin’?” I heard Tate ask and I turned back to him.

“Yeah,” I answered.

“Cash ‘em out. You’re off,” he declared and my eyes went to the big Coors Light clock over the bar.

“I’ve got ten minutes before Wendy’s on,” I reminded him. “And Jonelle’s not here yet.”

Nor, if yesterday was any indication, would she be for at least half an hour.

“Serve your drinks,” his head nodded to my tray, “and fuckin’ cash out.”

“But –”

“Not big on repeatin’ myself, babe.”

“Not big on being called babe,
babe.
”

Honestly!

I didn’t know I had it in me but I must have because Tate sure drew it right out.

“You hand Krys this attitude?” he asked me.

“I like Krystal,” I lied. “
And
she’s never threatened me
and
she’s never called me old, fat or a sorry-ass!” I snapped, grabbed my tray and stomped away.

I didn’t know both Jim-Billy and Nadine heard every word we’d said. I also didn’t know why Tate got under my skin and made me act like a bitchy raving lunatic. I also didn’t dwell since I decided early he was a jerk and had given myself permission to be a bitch. So, he kept acting like a jerk then he’d keep getting the bitch.

I served my drinks, calculated my tab and luckily could cash it out from my apron and I called hello to Dalton when he walked in. I also dragged my heels until Wendy hit the floor at a couple minutes to seven. Then I went behind the bar and slapped my apron down close to Dalton.

“Hey, Dalton, can you cash me out? I’m going to go freshen up,” I said to him.

“Sure, Lauren, can you give me ten?” Dalton answered.

“Not a problem,” I answered and turned to go to the restrooms but found my upper arm suddenly had five strong fingers wrapped around it and my body didn’t move of its own accord to the restroom, it was propelled by Tate to the office.

What now?

“Take your hand off me,” I hissed.

“Shut your trap,” he clipped back, opened the door and pulled me in. Then he shut the door and maneuvered me so my back was to it and he was close to my front.

“Move away,” I demanded, half shocked that there I was, in the office, a place I didn’t want to be, dragged there by a man I didn’t like and half scared because I didn’t know him very well and most of my experience with him he was angry but now he looked
really
mad.

“I hurt your feelings, I get it. I apologized,” he returned. “You don’t have to accept it, that’s your choice. But you
do
gotta fuckin’ listen to me when I’m givin’ you good advice. Those boys out there are in a biker gang, not a bad one but not one that shies away from trouble. You wanna be friendly enough to sell drinks and distant enough to fly under their radar. They clocked your tits, your ass, your legs, your hair and your attitude the minute they walked in and, trust me, Ace, you want them to admire you from afar. What you don’t want to do is give them the in you’ve been givin’ them the past four hours.”

“I haven’t been giving them an in,” I retorted.

“Babe, you crawled into one of their laps, I wouldn’t have been surprised.”

“That’s crazy!” I snapped.

“It is? You get I’m a man?” he asked bizarrely and I stared at him a second because pretty much no one on earth could miss that.

“Yes, I get you’re a man,” I answered.

“So, I get that impression from you just watchin’ your shit, what do you think
they’re
gettin’ bein’ on the receivin’ end?”

Uh-oh. As much as it killed me to admit, he had a point.

“Um…” I mumbled.

“Um,” he mimicked and I felt my eyes narrow on him. “Damn straight, Ace. How’d you get here?”

“Sorry?” I asked.

“To the bar, you got your car?”

“I walked,” I told him.

“You’re on my Harley once Dalton cashes you out.”

Oh no I was not.

“
What?
” I shouted, yes, shouted.

“I’m takin’ you home,” he answered.

“No you aren’t.”

“Babe, I am.”

“No. You. Aren’t!” I tried to slide to the side but his hand came up and he planted his palm in the door so I stopped. “I’m staying at the hotel until I can find a place. It’s only five blocks away.”

“Least two of those boys been waitin’ ‘til you’re off. You think they won’t make their move now that you are?”

This surprised me. They were bikers in a gang but there were a couple of good-looking ones and all of them, I thought, were nice. I thought they were having fun with me, enjoying their beer and pool and male camaraderie with a somewhat sassy, older, fat-assed waitress breaking in on their bonding with some witty one-liners and a cheeky grin (though some of them I guessed were my age, others a bit older and amongst that lot were the good-looking ones).