Page 20 of Power Play

We stayedopen for as long as the NHL stars wanted to be there, and the fans were willing to oblige them. Which was an incredibly long time. The sky in the east was starting to lighten.

“Amber,” I whispered to the only other server left standing with me. “Go on home.”

There were fifteen people left in the bar. Ben and I could handle it. Amber had kids at home who would need to get up for school.

“What about you?” She said through a giant yawn.

“I’ll be fine,” I said.

“No bus,” she said, already grabbing her bag from the drawer where we kept our purses while we were on shift. “Not at this hour. Promise me you’ll take an Uber.”

I promised and Amber snuck out. Finally, it was just Ben and me and the three hockey stars. I was mopping the floor, listening to them argue over the bill. Staski won or lost. Whatever. He put a black credit card on the bar to cover the several thousand dollar check.

“Hey,” a painfully familiar voice said. I turned to face Liam, his shirt now unbuttoned and his hair tussled.

He was drunk, but not wasted. I’d worked plenty of bar jobs to know the difference. He stood there looking like a sexy cologne ad and I smelled like spilled beer, sweat and BBQ sauce.

Still, the electricity of being near him straightened my spine. Made my legs clench in memory of him between them.

There was one magical night when he looked at me like I was amazing.

Now, all I got was disdain.

“Hey,” I said back, leaning against the mop because I was so tired I couldn’t quite stand up straight. I'd been on my feet for over twelve hours. I wanted to keep my defenses up around him, but I was so tired.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Just doing my job.”

“So. I’m wondering.” He pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket and started counting out twenties. He even licked his finger like some cartoon character bad guy. “Is this tip just going to show up at my house on Sunday? Like, is it even worth giving it to you?”

Son of a bitch.

“We pool tips,” I said. “If you don’t tip me, you don’t tip any of the people who stayed late.”

“Hmmm,” he said, his low voice rumbling through the air, stroking my skin. Even my exhausted nipples perked up. “That’s what I figured. So, what’s your cut?”

“Are you kidding right now?” I asked.

“Just a curious consumer,” he said.

“There were five of us working tonight.”

He held the cash out to me, but when I reached for it, predictably, he pulled it away.

“Is everything a power play with you?” I asked with a huff.

He stepped forward until he was in my space. Way too much in my space. He grabbed my hand and slapped the cash into my palm, but didn’t let go.

“Only when it comes to you,” he said. “One of these days…”

“One of these days, what?” I snapped, tired of his implied threat.

With his free hand he reached up and pushed some of my hair off my face where it clung damp with sweat.

“You’ll admit, to my face, what you did, and you will beg me for forgiveness.”

I jerked. Shocked by the touch of his hand on my face. I let go of the money. So did he. Fifties and twenties showered the floor, sticking to the damp surface I’d just mopped.

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