“Whatever, dude.” He snaps my leg with a bar rag.
* * *
The club is packed.There’s some celebrity DJ spinning tonight, and people have come out of the woodwork. I haven’t stopped moving since the doors opened at eight. This will be a five-hundred-dollar night easily. I'm mixing two Red Bull and vodkas when I look up and see Alana and Emily standing there watching me. I wink then finish making the drinks and hand them off to the customer. I lean over the bar and kiss Alana hello. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she responds with a cute little smile. Her shy smile that dissolves my insides.
“Hi, Ryan,” Emily shouts over the music. “Can I have my usual?”
“Of course.” I grab a plastic cup from the stack and flip it into my hand. Before I even scoop the ice, Mac is by my side leaning over the bar, flirting. I can't hear what he's saying over the thump of the base, but I can imagine. I pour Emily's usual, a Grey Goose and tonic with a splash of cranberry, and hand it over to her. She tries to give me money, but I wave her off. "On me."
She takes a small, appreciative sip. "Thanks." Then throws a twenty on the bar. She’s a big tipper regardless if I give her drinks for free or not. Must be nice to have money to burn.
“So, what are you guys talking about?” I pin Mac with my eyes, knowing he's up to no good.
“I was telling Alana that my uncle's beach house is unoccupied next week, and I want to get the crew together to go. I told her the two of you should come.” Then he looks at Emily. "You're invited too." He pops his eyebrows at her, and she curls her lip.
She’s clearly not Mac’s number-one fan.
I clear my throat. "Time— nine forty-seven p.m., place Tradewinds, date June twenty-seventh."
Mac elbows me. "Whatever, it will be a good time. Consider it," he advises Alana and Emily, then he walks away to help a customer.
“What was that about?” Alana asks.
“Mac is into Emily. He wants to hook up.”
“Oh yeah?” Emily scoffs. “He needs to work on his Slick Rick impression if he wants to get anywhere near me. You can tell him I said that too.” She bites on her straw.
“I'll relay the message.” I laugh and take a drink order from a guy fighting his way through the crowd. People are ruthless tonight.
“We're going to go dance,” Alana informs me as the guy and I exchange a Double-O-Seven and some money.
“Have fun,” I yell. “Stay out of trouble.”
“I'll do my best,” she flirts. “But I can't make any promises for Emily.” Then she's gone, swallowed up by the masses. I miss her already.
Alana's been dancing the night away. And I watch her every chance I get. She's again dressed in tight little shorts and hot high heels. She never looks slutty, though. She always carries herself with grace and poise, like a princess under a microscope. She’s definitely undermymicroscope. Especially in here, where all the guys notice her, try to talk to her, lust after her. It drives me out of my fucking mind. I have her under surveillance — every bouncer is watching her. If someone so much as looks at her the wrong way, it’s over for them.
I’m pulling beer out of the cooler when I see her snaking her way through the crowd. She's coming straight toward me, and when she reaches the bar, I notice she’s breathing heavy and glistening with sweat. It’s not the time for dirty thoughts, but I can’t control it. I secretly wish I was the one making her look like that. I picture myself licking off every single salty droplet. I shake the fantasy off when I realize she’s staring at me strangely. She knows I was daydreaming. She can read me so well it’s scary.
“What was going through that head of yours?” she asks with this subtle little look.
“Nothing,” I respond as nonchalantly as possible as I crack open a bottle and hand her some water. She gives me a skeptical look. I only smile at her in return.
"Where's Emily?" I ask.
“Not sure. At the back bar with Tara maybe?” Tara is another bartender who Emily happened to go to high school with. She and Alana usually split time between our bars when they're here.
“I'm going to dance,” she announces after slugging some water. She’s getting pushed and shoved like cattle standing at the bar.
“Hey,” I call her back before she disappears onto the dance floor. "I don’t like you being alone."
She shoots me an indescribable look. “I'm not alone. I know you have every eye in this place watching me.”
Oops. Busted.I can’t tell if she’s pissed about it or not. I don’t really care if she is.
“Guilty. But better safe than sorry.”