“I’m Mae. And I’d love to stay, but it’s real busy in here tonight. It might calm down in a little bit, then I can hang out.” My name was Maeve, but I shortened it at work for safety’s sake—and there was not a chance in hell I’d be hanging out with these fools.
“Where are you from?” he asked, still hanging onto my jeans.
With a playful swat, I got him to drop his hand. “I’m from Georgia. Ever been?”Eyelash bat, eyelash bat, sugar sweet smile, touch me again and I’ll chop your hand off.
He waggled his eyebrows. Or attempted to. He was drunk enough for his eyebrow waggle to look more like a face spasm. “Only to HOT-lanta. That’s gotta be where you’re from.”
I winked, even though my stomach roiled at the way he leered at me. He was on his fourth beer of the night, but he’d come in with booze on his breath. He was toasted.
“No, sorry. I’m from Augusta—you know, the home of the Masters. Do you golf?”
I tried my damnedest to steer the topic and distract him enough to make my getaway without seeming like I was trying to get away.
Pretty Frat Boy’s face lit up in a sloppy grin. “Yeah. I fucking love golf. Do you like to play with balls?” He grabbed his crotch, jerking his hips in my direction. “How ’bout these?”
His buddies groaned, and one slapped him upside the head. I sucked in a sharp breath. We’d been dancing a fine line all evening. I’d been letting a lot slide, but I did not abide by this type of nonsense.
Spinning on my platform heel, I left without a word in search of my favorite bouncer, Leon. His thick arms were crossed over his even thicker chest as he watched me approach.
“What’s up, baby?”
Leon was six and a half feet of pure muscle. Beyond the fact that he was truly a nice guy deeply devoted to his wife and two kids, he was a southern gentleman from Alabama, and that made me like him even more. Sharing similar roots, we understood each other. These Yankees confounded us both with their bitter iced tea.
“I’ve got a table of four. One guy’s been makin’ trouble all night. Just got fresh with me, and it’s not lookin’ like he plans to quit. Think you could give him a little talk?”
Leon’s generally sweet countenance went dark. He saw a lot of shit, working at a bar in New York. Unlike me, he didn’t let much of it slide. Usually, all he had to do was scowl at the unruly customers and they shaped up, but some nights, he had to haul drunken jackasses out by their scruff.
I followed Leon back to my table where Pretty Frat Boy was pounding back his beer while his friends laughed at him. Come to think of it, they were a table full of pretty frat boys, but PFB number one was the only one who’d gotten handsy.
“Gentlemen.” Leon loomed over the table like a storm cloud.
Three sets of eyes landed directly on him, the fourth, the troublemaker, only had eyes for me. He smirked, and I sensed jackassery was afoot.
“I’m going to have to ask you to respect this woman or Iwilltoss you out onto the street with no qualms. This is your only warning.”
Leon’s rumbling voice and hard tone left no room for argument. Three PFBs nodded in understanding, but the fourth, the original, scowled with contempt. I got the feeling this guy wasn’t used to being told no. At the very least, not listening when he was. He was the type of guy you’d see in a news story after a judge gave him a slap on the wrist for date-rape, not wanting to “ruin his life after one little mistake.” He had toxic masculinity written all over him.
He stood so fast, his chair screeched against the scuffed wood floors. “What’s this fat cunt been saying?” His eyes raked over me with bitterness. “You should be grateful for any attention you get. Walking around like you’re fuckin—”
Whatever vitriol he’d been about to extol was abruptly cut off by Leon’s mammoth hand wrapping around the back of his neck. Toxic PFB whooped and hollered, trying to release Leon’s grip. Once he saw he had no hope, he turned his attention back to me, screaming obscenities and insults as he was dragged away. His friends muttered their apologies, slapped down a thick wad of bills, and followed him out with their tails between their legs. I’d say they weren’t as bad as their friend, but my mama always said you were only as good as the company you kept, and their company was a pile of shit.
Swiping the money from the table, I blinked back tears. I’d heard all manner of insults working this job, but I never got used to it. The words didn’t slide off me. They stuck, and some seeped inside.
Needing a second to collect myself before I faced the rest of my patrons, I ducked into the hall behind the bar, my back against the wall.
Breathe, breathe, breathe. Smile pretty. And cut a motherfucker if you have to.
That last bit of advice was from Haven, although my mama had done her fair share of cutting people down with her withering looks and acid-tipped tongue, though she’d clutch her pearls if I used a curse word in her presence.
Leon and my boss, Carlos, filled the hallway, standing across from me. Taking a deep breath and gathering myself, I raised my eyes from the floor to meet theirs, a smile on my red-painted lips.
“Hey.” I was proud I’d kept any quivering out of my voice.
“You’re in VIP,” Carlos barked.
Taken aback, I shook my head. “What? Why?”
“We got a big party in. Melody needs the help.” Carlos was never not gruff, but he was a decent boss. He looked after us. It didn’t take a genius to surmise Leon had told him about the PFB incident and giving me VIP was his version of making up for it.