I take the beers over to the table and set them down in front of the men. “Those guys were disgusting,” one of them says. He’s an older gentleman, and I’m guessing he must be worth quite a bit based on his suit. It seems a little strange to see a bunch of middle-aged men in suits in the club and not in the back rooms, but as important as these fellows look, I’m guessing they just don’t have one of those gold keys.
“Thank you,” I tell him. “Some guys think that just because I’m a waitress, that makes me some sort of a prostitute or something, but I wouldn’t have let one of those guys touch me for all of the money in the world.”
They chuckle, and one of them adds, “I guess you showed him what happens when they do.”
I smile at him, but I’m honestly a little tired of talking about it at this point. I just want to finish my shift so I can go home and get some sleep. It’s been a long day, and while I’m totally happy with my new highlights and feeling good, my feet are getting tired.
“Well, here’s a little bonus tip for your trouble, miss,” the first guy says, handing me a rolled-up wad of bills. “You’ve done a fine job for us tonight and provided excellent service. You deserve it.”
I don’t want to be rude, so I don’t look at the tip right then and there, but I gush all over him, like I already know it’s a huge amount of money. It feels like it is, but for all I know, these are one-dollar bills. Still, it’s the thought that counts. “Oh! You don’t have to do that! Thank you so much!”
“I insist,” he says, holding up a hand to stop me from trying to refuse. “You took care of that waste of space better than anything I ever could have imagined. Have a good night, miss.”
“Thank you!” I tell him again. “That’s so kind of you.” I head back to the bar with a quick glance at the clock and see that my shift is just about over.
After I take a few more rounds to a couple of other tables, I call it a night. Ethan is off, too, and he walks back with me to clock out. “Well, I guess I better be careful around you right now,” he says, and I know the bouncer is getting ready to make a joke.
I am a little distracted by the wad of cash I’m fishing out of my apron. I didn’t get a chance to stow it away in my bag behind the bar, and I am really curious to see how much that guy gave me. But I play along with the joke. “Why is that?” I ask Ethan.
“Well, because you’re getting ready to clock out, right? And I don’t want you to clock me and knock me out!” He laughs at his own lame joke, and I give him a sympathetic chuckle.
Allie is behind us and says, “I think you need some sleep, sweetie,” and leaps up to tussle his unruly dark curls. “That was terrible.”
“Why you gotta be so mean?” Ethan asks, and I let them go ahead of me to clock out while I check out the tip.
When I’ve finished counting it, my mouth is hanging open, and I feel like I need to run back out there and tell that guy thank you again. “Holy shit!” I mutter. It’s over two thousand dollars. I haven’t gotten a tip like this ever except for the time Hunter gave me that mega tip after I worked that back room for him.
I put the money in my bag and then clock out, grabbing my stuff out of my locker. I’m so ready to go home. Turning around, I wave at some of my coworkers who are headed out the door, and then I freeze.
Hunter is standing in the doorway that leads back to the lounge—back to his quarters—back to his office.
“Hey, Meghan,” he says, his hands shoved down deep into his pockets. “You got a minute?”
“Uhm, I’m pretty tired, actually,” I sputter, hoping he’ll just let me go.
“Won’t take more than a couple of minutes.” He has a pleading look in his eyes, and even though I don’t ever want to be in his office alone with him again, I find myself moving forward. Something tells me that it’s better to just get this conversation over with, whatever it is.
As I follow him, my stomach begins to twist into knots. What if I’m in trouble for assaulting a patron? Everyone else has been patting me on the back and telling me I’d done a great job, but he hadn’t said a word to me. He hadn’t come over to see if I was okay or to tell me ‘way to go’ or anything.
What if that’s because he’s pissed that I punched that guy?
When we walk into the office and he closes the door behind me, I swallow hard, trying to come up with something to say to either defend myself or beg to keep my job.
Hunter stands in front of me, and I can’t really read his expression, but he doesn’t look mad. He looks…forlorn. His eyes have dark circles under them I hadn’t noticed when we were out in the club with the neon lights. His hair is a little messy, and he seems like he has a lot on his mind.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Nothing much. I just…you seem different recently. You’ve got new hair…a new swagger in your step. I just…I think it all looks nice. But usually, when someone changes like that, there’s a reason. So I wanted to make sure that you’re all right, that nothing’s going on with you or anything. I mean… guess what I’m trying to say is, are you okay?”
I stare at him for a long moment, not sure what to say because the last time he asked me a question like this one, it was so similar—Are we okay?We aren’t, but I told him we were. We’re still not. Just being in here again, standing near his desk where he’d eaten me out and sent me over the edge, makes me want to run to him.
I’m not going to do that, though. I remember what Sadie said in the bathroom—Don’t ever let any man make you cry. He’s already done that more times than I can count, and I’m not going to let it happen again.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I tell him, and as I speak the words, I mean it. “I’m better than good. I’m great. In fact, I’m pretty sure, I’ve never been better. Not once in my life.” I find myself chuckling as I say it because I do feel so fucking good.
He seems taken aback at first, but then he’s nodding along with me. “Well, that’s…nice to hear,” he says.
“It’s nice to say,” I tell him. “And as a matter of fact, I suppose there’s something else I should say to you as well.”