Page 49 of Rut Bar

Neon decorations that I hardly notice when I’m leaving here, bleary-eyed after staring at computer screens and paperwork all day, now stand out to me. With the dim lighting and neon, the club is transformed. Bright colors break up the normally grungy black and gray walls and floor, and the luxe furniture keep it from looking low class. There’s a crystal chandelier I’ve never noticed before and it reflects the neon signs around the room as it twinkles.

Padded faux leather chairs surround tables and velvet couches make groups of seating along the walls at the back. Every inch of the bar is social media snapshot worthy once the mood lighting is in place. The performance stage and the seating that rings it dominate the room, but there’s a row of curtained private booths in the back and a stripper pole on a tiny raised stage. I wonder if they do private performances or if this is their version of the champagne room you find at seedier places around town.

The bar is crowded, especially at the end near the stage. One of the alpha dancers, a Black man with dark brown skin and long twisted locs tied away from his face, dances and strips while dressed as a fallen angel. Huge white wings that fade to black extend from his back. He’s wearing tiny black rubber shorts that show off his impressive package. A black and silver leather harness crisscrosses over his chest while hiding nothing.

Something prickles at my awareness, and I swing my gaze around until I see what the cause is. There’s a spot open at the bar, and that bartender, Anthony, is staring at me. We make eye contact and he grins, and then he reaches one tattoo-covered arm up and slicks his wild, dark waves out of his face.

His bright blue eyes never waver. They’re captivating, but I’m not sure if that’s a good thing. Something tells me Anthony is used to getting what he wants and he’s not afraid to use his bad boy sex appeal to get it.

The trouble is, I don’t know what he wants from me and I’m not sure finding out will be good for me.

I go to the bar like I’m pulled to him with a magnetic force I don’t understand. I lean against the countertop and remember watching Veronica get fucked over it a few hours ago. My nostrils flare, trying to scent her, but it’s been hours and there’s no trace left.

“Did you bring it?” Anthony asks, shouting over the noise to be heard.

I reach into my back pocket and pull out the folded-up sheet of paper I put there this afternoon. I’m not sure how he got my phone number and I almost didn’t follow his directions to go to a walk-in clinic that offers same-day test results. It felt like a joke. But thewhat ifof it kept bugging me.

“Here. All negative.”

Anthony reads the paper and instead of passing it back, he pockets it. “Good. So are we. Want a drink?”

“Sure.” After today, I could use one.

He leaves without asking me what kind of drink I want, and a moment later he returns and sets a tall, curvy glass full of something pink down in front of me. He scoops ice into the frosted glass, then spears two cherries on a long toothpick and sets the garnish on top. The next thing he adds is a sprinkle of shaved coconut. He sets the drink down on a napkin and pushes it to the center where I can reach it.

When I go to take it, his hand covers mine to stop me. He leans over the bar and smirks. “If you drink this, you’re sayingyes.”

My palm grows damp against the cold glass as condensation gathers from the warmth of the packed bar. “What’s in it?”

“It’s a very special recipe Jamie and I both came up with especially for you.”

My suspicion grows along with his smile. “What, did you spit in it?” I don’t understand this man. First he’s staking his claim and posturing to warn me away, and then he’s telling me to go get tested and promising it’ll be worth my time. I don’t know what to believe.

“If you want my spit, all you have to do is ask nicely for a kiss.” Anthony plops a tiny black straw into the drink and gives it a stir. “No spit, I promise. But there will definitely be fluids swapping tonight if you take this drink. You’re here. So are you in? All in? Because if you’re not, then you should leave and we’ll see you tomorrow, Agent Hall. I won’t let you walk into her bedroom and risk everything we’re building here if you’re going to walk out of her life once your audit’s done. Vee isn’t some random hole for you to get your dick wet. She’s special.”

Agent Hall.The thing that used to fill me with pride leaves me tired now. Even if this strange offer is only for one night, do I want to say no? No is safe. Boring. Tedious.Agent Hallis a very boring man. Anthony makes me remember the guy, the alpha, I used to be before one kick shattered my knee and broke my dreams along with it.

It’s funny how fast your life can change. One decision alters the course forever.

When did I get so… complacent? So dull and dependable?Agent Hallis going to die of old age and boredom. I’d like to remember what the old Brendan, the varsity soccer player with a full ride scholarship to UCLA, was like. I want to be that guy again.

I don’t know if Veronica is as serious about trying this as Anthony seems to think she is, but I know I’ve never smelled anyone like her. I’ve never been an omega-crazy kind of alpha before. But she makes my mouth water and my self-control feels gossamer thin, so if there’s a chance that this is for real and not a joke…

I tug the glass free from his grasp and raise the straw to my lips before I can overthink things to death. The first splash of lemonade, coconut cream, and cherry syrup floods my mouth and makes my jaw pinch before my mouth waters. Then I notice the rum and vodka. It’s strong. On my empty stomach, this one drink might be enough to fuck me up. It’s been a while since I had more than a beer with dinner while watching a game.

“How is it?” Anthony asks, his eyes lighting up. Patrons on either side of me make bids for his attention, but he ignores them all.

Being on the receiving end of his complete attention is exciting, but it also seems kind of dangerous. He’s probably the most unhinged, feral beta I’ve ever met. If I couldn’t detect his lack of obvious pheromones, I’d swear he was a smaller than average alpha.

“It’s good.”

“Oh, come on now.” He puts his chin on his palm and pouts. “You can do better than that. Give me a fancy word, smart guy.”

My chest puffs a bit from the mild praise and I wrack my mind for the most pretentious word I know. “Ambrosial.”

Anthony laughs and the woman next to me practically melts against the bar top. I can smell the thick, cloying scent of her sweet pea pheromones. My nose wrinkles from the olfactory assault. Except for that very brief confrontation yesterday, I haven’t been outside of Veronica’s office while the bar was this busy.

“How do you stand it?” I ask him while looking around. I tap my nose so he knows what I mean.

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