He nodded once, which felt incomplete to me.
“Why do you look so mad?”
“Just reminding these assholes they don’t want to mess with me.” He leaned down to grab my ass and plant one hell of a kiss on my lips as the shifters around us cheered. “And since you’re mine, you deserve that same respect. Anyone fucks with you, tell me. Tell Cutter. Hell, tell Rush. We’ll take care of them.”
I nodded, my chest tightening with nerves until I spotted Zella across the room. She sat at the bar with Cutter beside her, both talking and smiling. Laughing, even. Outside looking in, that man appeared to be smitten, which wasn’t hard to imagine. Zella had a way with people and usually attracted men easily. Keeping them was another story—most of them didn’t stick around once they learned how sick she was. Or at least when they learned her illness would directly affect her being able to be the fun, vibrant Zella they wanted. That Zella took energy, and she didn’t always have it.
As if he could read my mind, Flinch directed me across the room and to the bar where Zella sat. My friend jumped up and hugged me, whispering something about wondering where I had been, but I couldn’t concentrate on her. The largest bouquet of dark red roses sat to the side of the bar, the display nearly as tall as I was.
“Who sent those?”
Cutter glanced toward the roses before giving me a shrug. “Not sure. They were outside when we got back. They’re addressed to you, but there wasn’t a note to say who they’re from.”
“They’re ginormous.”
“Want me to put them outside?” Flinch asked, ever the gentleman.
I shook my head, peeling my eyes away from the massive roses that felt really out of place. Who sent red roses to what was essentially a funeral? A lover, maybe, but Chiggy hadn’t been dating. At least, not that he’d told me. I doubted he’d been hanging out with someone who would send such an obviously expensive bouquet, and yet there they sat. Taking up space. And they’d been sent specifically to me. I hated them for absolutely no reason that made sense.
“Come on, Lock.” Zella grabbed my hand and pulled me to an empty chair at her side. “Have a drink.”
I would have loved to, but behind the bar, a tall woman with super-short, platinum-blond hair was trying desperately to keep up with the men hollering their orders at her. I knew her body language, had been that lone bartender in a sea of people without any backup.
“What’s up?” Flinch asked, obviously noticing my focus.
“Will there be another bartender tonight to help her?”
Flinch looked up, frowning, then bumped Cutter’s arm. “Anyone coming in to relieve Billy?”
Cutter looked across the bar in concern. “Shit. I knew I forgot something.”
I shook my head, not able to stand by and watch a woman drown. “I’ve got this.”
Flinch grabbed my arm. “Locklyn, you don’t?—”
“It’s fine. I need the distraction.” I rose onto the balls of my feet to give him a kiss then walked behind the bar, smiling at the woman called Billy. “Hey.”
“What’s up, Flinch Junior?”
The nickname…well, it sort of fit, I guessed. “I’m a bartender. Thought I might hop back here and get you out of the weeds.”
She nodded, popping tops off beer bottles and listening to an order from some woman with her tits practically draped across the bar at the same time. “Just don’t get in my way.”
And with that, I slipped into bartender mode. It didn’t take me long to get the lay of the land, though I did stake my claim on the far side of the bar from Billy and rearrange the bottles on the rail. Cutter dropped in beside me, laying out pricing and showing me how to work the computer system that, thankfully, was very much like one I had experience with. Once I had a good understanding of what we stocked, where glasses were stored, and how the POS system worked, I stepped up to the bar.
“What are you having?”
And that was how I spent the evening—focusing on making other people happy and pushing aside the grief I felt over my dad being gone. Every Hellion who approached me offered their condolences the first time, but after a while, even that stopped. And I was thankful. My dad wouldn’t have wanted me to be sad. He wouldn’t have wanted me to be behind the bar at the clubhouse slinging drinks, either, but at least I wasn’t crying in a corner somewhere.
“Lock, gimme five drafts with Jack chasers.” Zella slid in behind me, digging out a tray from under the bar. “These fuckers are drinking like fish and clogging the path to the bar. Figured I could deliver a few drinks to break it up.”
I poured the beers and the shots, lining them up on the tray. “Got a card?”
“Guy said put it on Zed’s tab.”
I caught Cutter’s attention. “Do we tab for Zed with no card?”
Cutter nodded. “Absolutely. The executive team has that privilege. That’s me, Mule, Banger, Zed, Flinch, Preacher, and Ridge. Enter their payment as holding tab and type in their name. The system will do the rest.”