“Hey, boss,” Kaleb says, stepping out from behind the refrigerator as he closes the door. He has a large sandwich in his hands, which doesn’t surprise me. The kid is always eating, but he still probably only weighs a hundred and a quarter at best. “Do you know if that mayo in there is still good?”
I stare at him for a moment, dumbfounded, trying to figure out why he is asking me about condiments. “What? I don’t know,” I tell him with a shrug. “Did you check the date?”
“Yeah, it says it expired yesterday, but I figure it has to have a couple of days on it still, right?” He’s looking at me like I’m his mom and I’m supposed to cook him dinner—and wipe his ass when he’s done in the bathroom.
“Fuck, Kaleb, I don’t know. Did you put it on your sandwich already?”
He stares at me, slightly wide-eyed, and then nods.
“Well, you’ll probably be fine,” I tell him, gesturing for him to go away, which he does. I turn, headed for the club floor, and see Carter is staring at me pretty hard. “What?” I ask.
“Nothing, Hunter. It’s just… you were a little rough on the kid, weren’t you? He just asked you your opinion about something.” Carter stays away from me, like he’s afraid he might be next, but he also tends to be the one to make sure the younger guys are all doing okay.
“He asked me about a condiment,” I tell him. “I think he’s old enough to figure that out by himself.”
Carter doesn’t say anything for a second, but then he asks, “Are you all right? Something…troubling you?”
“Everything is hunky-dory,” I reply, doubting he’s ever heard anyone say that before. I’m not even sure where I heard it. Probably my grandpa. I wave him off, too, and head out to the club floor.
Almost immediately, my eyes collide with hers, and all of the oxygen leaves my lungs. She is a sight to behold after all of these days. It hasn’t been long on the calendar, but it feels like a million years.
She looks good, too, standing there in a short black skirt and a tight purple top. I wonder if that’s the same black skirt she was wearing when I was devouring her pussy, but I know it’s not. I see the subtle differences in the cut.
Meg looks at me for a split second and then turns with an elaborate flip of her hair, and I am left feeling cold and alone.
Around me, the sounds of the club march on. Dylan’s dropping some fierce beats, people are dancing, the lights are flashing, and laughter rocks through the air. All I see is her.
Once she’s done delivering her tray of drinks, I move in, no longer able to keep myself away from her. I approach her cautiously, like a man walking toward a person standing on the ledge of a building two hundred stories up. I don’t want her to get away from me and shatter all over the dance floor.
“Meghan?” I say, remembering her shouting at me for not using her full name before. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”
“Mr. Stone, sir.” She takes a very professional tone with me. “Was I doing something wrong in my waitressing?”
I stare at her, a bit dumbfounded, not sure how to respond. “No, of course not,” I reply.
“Good. Then, if it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to continue on with my work.” She turns a bit, like the conversation is over.
Instinctively, I reach out and put my hand on her arm. She stares down at my fingers like they’re ripping into her flesh. I pull away. “It’ll only take a moment.”
A loud sigh escapes her lips, and she follows me across the club floor to a secluded corner. “Yes, sir?” she says again.
I look at her for a long moment, trying to formulate what I want to say. The wordsI’m sorryare on the tip of my tongue, but they won’t come out. When I finally do manage to work out some words, they aren’t the right ones. “Are we good?”
Her mouth drops open slightly as she struggles to comprehend what I’m asking her. “Uh… yeah,” she finally says. “We’re good. Why wouldn’t we be good? We’re not just good—we’re the best. I am the best I’ve ever been. Now, if you will excuse me, Mr. Stone, sir, I have work to do.” Before she spins on her heel to walk away, she adds, “I wouldn’t want to make anymistakes.”
As she walks away from me, she starts whistling a tune, and it’s a song I recognize but can’t place. It’s going to drive me crazy for the rest of the night until I think of it.
But what’s really going to drive me crazy are the words she just peppered me with like bullets. No, we are obviously not good… And she’s still under the impression that I think she’s a mistake.
CHAPTER22
MEGHAN
The words to YonKaGor’s “Another Mistake” continue to roll through my mind after I walk away from Hunter, whistling the tune that Audio Adrenaline just happened to drop about the time my shift started. It was a remix, so slightly different than the version that keeps playing in my head, but fitting nevertheless.
I can’t believe Hunter had the nerve to come and ask me if we are all right. Of course, we’re not all right! How could we possibly be all right? After the way he treated me—fucking me and then telling me it was nothing but one big oopsie… Fuck him.
I have some interesting tables this evening, and I do my best to put all of my attention on bringing my patrons the drinks they ordered without letting Hunter get to me, but it’s difficult. I can’t help but play our conversation over again and again in my mind. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem to be affecting my ability to do my job. I’m gathering tips in the double digits with each tray of drinks I bring. It doesn’t even bother me when that stupid-ass blonde twirling girl, who comes here almost every night and apparently likes to see us spill our drinks, almost takes me out.