Page 146 of Rut Bar

The noise of the driver’s Arabic broadcast muffles my stifled gasps and moans and fidgeting as Brendan teases me right back, his hand slung around my shoulders and sliding under my jacket to play with my breast until the nipple is a stiff peak and the ache of his pinching travels straight to my groin.

New York City’s lack of public bathrooms and appalling lack of alleys are the only reasons we get a glimpse of the West Village at all. It turns out that Hollywood lies. There aren’t any alleys in New York.

After a bit of wandering and getting a feel for the place, we find a cute Moroccan restaurant that smells amazing and tastes even better. And by the time we make it back to the hotel, we’re drunk and more than ready to celebrate. All one-point-two million dollars’ worth.

* * *

Anthony throwsa bar towel over the top of the champagne cork, but I still flinch when he pops it. “To Rut NYC!” he yells as he pours the golden bubbly into the top glass of his champagne tower. After the first glass fills, the champagne runs down. The other bartenders feed him more bottles until his pyramid of carefully positioned glasses is filled, and then they’re distributed.

The champagne tickles my nose and isn’t sweet enough for my personal enjoyment, but it’s a must for celebrations, so I indulge alongside everyone else. We have a lot to celebrate. The audit is over. We got our start-up funding. Tom’s real estate hook up is scouring for the perfect venue for us. And I found my pack.

“Vee, I have so many ideas,” Nate says while sipping his champagne. He gestures wildly in the air with his free hand as he talks. “For the opening show, I’m thinking of Broadway. The classics. Cabaret. Moody, seductive red lighting and tiny black hot pants with glitter suspenders that sparkle in the spotlight. We’ll have them do the chair number with their hats, and then…”

Before Nate can get too excited and spend the next hour bouncing ideas off me, I put a hand on his arm and squeeze. “Nate, if you want Cabaret, then we’ll do it. I love it. Have Darlene draw some costume ideas for us to look over this week.”

His face lights up with a manic gleam, and I leave him to hold court amongst a small pack of his most dedicated dancers. A few have already asked if they can transfer. I hate to lose them, but it’s also nice to know that Rut NYC won’t be starting from scratch. We have a lot of logistics to figure out. It’s a good thing I enjoy being busy.

“Congratulations,” Darlene says, sidling up to me. Instead of champagne, she’s drinking something light blue and blended in the most enormous margarita glass I’ve ever seen before. A wedge of pineapple and a tiny paper umbrella decorate the side. “If anyone could pull this off, it’d be you. Told them not to worry.” She sips her drink and grins at me.

“Nate’s going to be a whirlwind of ideas. You’ll be busy with costume design until we can hire another seamstress. Unless… You’re not leaving me for New York too, are you?”

“New York?” She gives me a sour look, then shakes her head and drains a fifth of her glass in one go. “And deal with all that cold and snow? No, thank you. I like it here where it’s always eighty-five and sunny, and so does the arthritis in my hands.”

That’s great news, because having to replace both Darlene and Nate would have been terrible. Nate’s work can apply to both sites. He can create and record the choreography he creates, and his replacement here can implement it. But Darlene is the one who makes the vision come alive. I’d hate to lose them both. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Your boy is looking for you,” she says, using her glass to point.

Jamie moves through the crowd, stopping to talk to people for a bit before turning his attention back to me. Everyone wants to stop and congratulate him, so his progress across the room is slow.

“If I’d been twenty years younger…” Darlene heaves a wistful sigh. “Off with you. Don’t waste your night talking to me. It’s your party so go enjoy yourself while I live vicariously through you.”

Before she can wander away, I put a hand on her arm and lean in so I don’t have to shout to be heard over the music. I ask her what’s been bothering me for weeks. “How did you know?” It was Darlene who told me Jamie was interested in me. Who prompted me to take the idea seriously. I don’t know if I’d have let myself go there if she hadn’t planted that idea in my head.

“Girl, you weren’t exactly subtle. Everyone could see you two mooning over each other. The pool wasn’t if you’d get together, but when. Took you long enough. And everyone knew Anthony wanted you bad. The man can’t stop staring at your ass. Didn’t think it would be the IRS agent who’d kick things off, though.” She laughs. “That was a fun little surprise. Changed the odds from seven to one to forty-one to one. Thanks for that. Did you see my new earrings?”

Instead of her usual chunky costume jewelry, she’s wearing enormous black and gold Chanel button earrings. They make zero sense with her neon pink and leopard print outfit. “Wow.” My response is an understatement.

Darlene preens, fluffing her teased hair. “Time for a refill.” She downs the rest of her drink and wanders off. I cringe, wondering how she’s not getting brain freeze.

“Your glass is way too full,” Anthony says as he sneaks up behind me. He takes my glass from me and sets it down, then hands me a new one before curling his arm around my middle and tugging me back against him. “This is a celebration. Drink up. We made this especially for you.”

It’s a coconut margarita, and my eyes flutter in delight when I take a sip and the flavor bursts along my tongue. “Fuck, that’s so good. I don’t know how you do it.”

Anthony hums and lets his hand wander over my stomach, his fingers teasing the waistband of my skirt. “It uses a special ingredient we save just for you.”

“What, love?” I force myself to sip it slowly rather than gulp it down. It’s mostly vodka and I haven’t eaten today. Tension I didn’t know I was holding goes slack and I smile, swaying with the beat of the music.

“Sure. Let’s call it that.” Anthony chuckles, his breath hot on my ear as he runs his nose up and down the side of my neck. “Brendan says your heat is close. Another day or two. You know what that means.”

My pelvis tightens and my nipples scrape against the lace of my bra. I know what it means. My heat is close and we’re going to finish what we started. Brendan’s the only one who’s bitten me because Jamie says it doesn’t feel right for him to claim me since he’s the submissive. Although we all expect that might change once he’s in a rut. I’m planning on it, because I want a bite from all my guys.

Anthony’s plans make me nervous, though. He found some sketchy website that makes custom-fitted tooth caps for betas who don’t want to be left out of the biting. I’m concerned that it won’t work and he’ll end up disappointed, but I won’t tell him no. Being an equal in the pack means too much to him.

Anthony sways with me, his hand on my belly, keeping us pressed together. Despite knowing I need to drink slowly, I can’t help myself. His drinks are so good. I drain the glass and he takes it from me and sets it aside when Jamie pushes through the crowd and joins us.

“Brendan said to let you know it’s almost six,” Jamie says.

“What? No, it’s only…” Frowning, I glance at the bar where a digital clock mounted to the wall shows that it’s nine minutes till opening. “Shit. It is almost six.” I put my thumb and middle finger into my mouth and whistle, the conversation dying down around us. “Time to open, people! Dancers, finish your drinks and start getting into costume. Everyone else, let’s get this place cleaned up.”

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