Page 14 of Break You

“So, it’s all in my mind that every time I’ve seen the two of you together you look like you want to throw her down on the nearest flat surface and fuck her senseless in front of the roomful of people? In fact, when you were ‘talking’ to her before, you looked like you wanted to drag her off to your lair and lock her away, so nobody else can even glance at her.” The fact that he was right didn’t make me want to throat punch him any less.

“No point denying you have a thing for her, or she’s gotten under your skin, or something. It’s written all over your face. Actually... no, it’s written all over your body. In fact, I bet if I was to glance down now, you’d be pitching just talking about her. Am I right?” He glanced down at my crotch and pumped the air in triumph.

“Look at my dick again, and I’ll punch you in yours. I said, let it drop, and I fucking meant it. I won’t tell you again.” This time I made sure my tone conveyed the fact that I was at the end of my already-short rope.

“Okay, okay.” He threw his hands up in mock surrender. “So sensitive. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

“Yeah, well, if you don’t shut the fuck up, your carotid artery won’t be safe with me.” I sat down and tried to think about just about anything other than Rocky, which worked for about a nanosecond before she was back at our table taking orders again. I asked for a vodka Red Bull, and avoided making eye contact.

She did the same, and as the night wore on, we settled into a routine of pretending the other person didn’t exist. It wasn’t like she was rude to me—in fact she was polite and friendly, to a fault—she just didn’t interact with me directly. Despite getting on my last nerve just by breathing the same air, I couldn’t deny she was exceptionally good at her job. Not only was she a demon on the skates—weaving in and out of the crowd with trays full of drinks, never spilling a drop, unlike the day before—but she also had the other guys eating out of her hand.

She skirted the line between fun and flirty perfectly, seeming to both be close, and keep her distance, all at the same time. Watching her, I increasingly came around to believing that she could handle herself if she needed to, just like she’d said. She exuded confidence and had the jokey banter down pat. The difference between her now, and at the Trinity Hall event, was like day and night. I put it down to the fact that this was her place and her peeps, versus Trinity Hall, which was neither.

I studied her as she navigated her way around. She obviously felt comfortable, both on skates and in her skimpy uniform—and had the run of the place. Her interactions with other staff were easy and natural, and the body language between them told me that she was well-liked and respected by her colleagues. One seemed to like her a little too much for my comfort. I kept catching one bartender looking at her in a way that suggested he wanted to be more than just colleagues. By the way she seemed to either not notice, or not be willing to acknowledge him, I assumed it was a one-sided thing. Good.

“She’s hot, right?”

“Hmm… what?” An increasingly drunk Fox had shambled over to me, slurring slightly as he yelled to be heard over the music.

He followed my line of sight across the room, nodding his head toward Rocky.

“Rollergirl. She’s hot as fuck. I’d tap that in a heartbeat. I’ve been throwing out the vibes. Figure I’ll hit her up at the end of the night, see if I can’t score some company.”

God give me strength. “You talk about her like that again. Or at all, in fact, and the only thing you’ll be tapping is out, when I TKO you.”

“What? Are the two of you…?”

“You don’t need to know what we are, or aren’t, for that matter. Just know that if I see you so much as looking at her for the rest of the night, the only company you’ll have tonight, is the doctors in the ER as they try to reinsert your teeth.”

“Jesus man, would you calm your fucking farm, just a little? I’m not…”

I didn’t hang around to hear the rest. I needed to remove myself from the situation before I lost my shit. As I moved across the room, the lights darkened and a corny recorded message blared from the sound system.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, it’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for.” What fresh hell was this, some kind of old school circus? “Prepare to be dazzled… prepare to be amazed... but most of all... prepare to be excited—” It obviously was “—as we welcome to the stage, the amazing, the invincible, the hotter than hell in a heatwave, the one and only... Kik!”

I had no fucking idea what was going on, or who or what Kick was.

All became clear when a spotlight revealed a boy in his mid-teens in a sparkling tux at the back of the stage. What the actual fuck? I watched in a mixture of awe, horror, and confusion as a pole dropped from the ceiling, and the boy began executing a series of complicated and gravity-defying pole dance moves. He was definitely an accomplished and seasoned performer, but I couldn’t work out why or how they’d have a kid that young performing in a bar at that time of night. It seemed crazy, as did some of the stuff he was doing. Not to mention the fact that the soundtrack was Papa Roach’s Kick In The Teeth.

I had to wonder what kind of life the kid was living. To be that good at such a young age, would have meant hours and hours of practice. I wondered if he even went to school. Maybe he was a trailer-trash carnie kid, and did nothing but perform on a pole to angry rock music. And there I was thinking that my childhood sucked hairy balls.

“You need to keep your boys in check.” I’d been so lost in thought I hadn’t even seen or heard Rocky approach. “Karl is watching them,” She nodded toward the bar’s thick-necked bouncer. “They’re just on the right side of the happy/drunk line right now, but any further, and they’ll get kicked out.”

I looked over at the boys again. They were rowdy, but nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, they were better behaved than I’d seen them on many nights—especially those involving cygnets—the Cygnus Dei pledges. Plus, the night was still young, and they were likely to get a whole lot worse before they got better. “And as much as I’d be glad to see the back of you for the night—well, forever, actually—they’ve been pretty good so far, and drunk rich guys are always good for tips.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“I wasn’t talking about you. I wouldn’t take your money if you were the last tipper on the planet.”

“If I was the last tipper on the planet, it would probably be after the zombie apocalypse, and money wouldn’t be your biggest issue.”

“Nope, that would be standing in close proximity to you, with no decent humans left as a buffer. Also, zombies.”

“You’re not half as funny as you think you are.”

“Maybe not, but I’m at least twice as funny as you, so I’m okay with that.”

At that, she rolled away, taking the opportunity for the last word with her.

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