Page 31 of Anchor

Crap….

“Please, Heaven, I’ll double your take home for tonight,” he promises and holds up cash in his hand with pouty lips that just don’t look right on the tatted bald guy’s face. My eyes lock on the stack of bills in his hand, and I groan, knowing I can’t turn it down, making him grin.

“Okay, but only this once, Timmy, and I swear to God, if a man gropes me…” I warn, pointing at him, and he nods.

“Dad will kick them out instantly. He knows you’re our best worker and will do anything for you, though I know he’s not happy you are leaving once one of those fancy lawyer offices hires you. But I know he’ll be happy if you agree to open your own law firm and take us on as clients.”

I laugh as I grab a tray and fill it with the drinks I’ve just made for the private table at the far back of the poorly lit room. I round the bar, giving Tate a pat on the back, trying to calm his angry look.

Both Timmy and his dad Jimmy know I don’t work the floor, not after my first week when a customer attacked me near the ladies bathroom—something Travis will never find out–and Tate has been my guard ever since.

He was the one to stop it from escalating, and my God, if Travis knew I worked here, he’d have a coronary.

Timmy hands the cash to Tate, and I see him place it in my bag under the bar. Then, he grabs the tip jar, shoving half the tips inside. I give him a grateful smile before heading into the rowdy crowd.

It isn’t long before they all notice me, either, making my nerves hit, but I try to squash them down and move into the crowd, dodging the excited men while my mind, yet again, goes to my estranged husband.

I frown and pause a moment.

Can you call it estranged if he’s technically moved back home?

I shake my head and just manage to dodge a drunk man stepping back into me, and quickly go around him toward thefar back table closest to the private pole where Cherry is due to give a private dance.

For the past week, Travis has been in my bed, cuddling me every night, and I wake with his arms still around me after a perfect night’s sleep, my libido wanting to take over, but I tell her to shut up.

He’s cleaning the house, doing the laundry, cooking meals. He has taken over the school run, ensuring I understand he’s trying, something he has expressed in therapy he wishes he’d done the day after he cheated, instead of giving me space, giving me time to close my heart to him.

My body and heart feel content with him around, but my head is still stuck in the past. I am doing what I promised. I’m trying to let him in, let him prove to me he’s not the idiot kid he was ten years ago, but then my mom called before my shift, and now, I itch to lock him back out again.

Apparently, her boyfriend left her for a younger model, and she went on her usual rant about how much men suck, how I need to ensure my son doesn’t turn out like one of them, and that I need to push my divorce like I haven’t for the past ten years when she knows full well, I’ve tried to petition it several times.

She’s moving again and expects to move in with me, like I’d agree. She tried calling me ungrateful, saying that I owed her for “bringing me up” when she could have terminated her pregnancy.

Yeah, mother of the year, or what?

It took me telling her that Travis and I were doing couples therapy to shut her up for a few minutes before she flew off the handle with me.

“What do you mean you’re trying to fix that farce of a marriage? He fucked another girl, and found pleasure with her! I told you your wedding was a mistake, but did you listen? No, you didn’t. Instead, you became a selfish little bitch, not unable to keep him happy, to keep him satisfied, and now, here you are again, not listening to me, your own mother, choosing him over me…. How dare you!”

It’s the same old, same old with her, but as soon as I explained he’d been staying the night, she hung up on me, which didn’t really shock me.

I shake my head and dodge another customer.

I know Mom isn’t mad I’m giving Travis a chance; it’s more that my husband wants to do therapy, something no man of hers has ever insisted on.

They always preferred the younger model, or they figured out she just wanted what was in their bank account.

She’s jealous, and it is pathetic, especially when I don’t know if I can ever forget what Travis did. I know I can forgive because of my love for him; it hasn’t died in the years we’ve been separated, so I know it won’t ever go, but forgetting is a different thing altogether.

When I look at him, all I see is….

I quickly twist the tray as a guy steps into me, bringing me out of my head, and I scowl as he glares my way like it was my fault, but I soon want to punch the ass when his eyes look down my body.

Not wanting to lose my job or, well, be demoted, I sidestep the man who, if he has any sense, will not follow me. I finally make it to the private table.

“Good evening,” I say as I place the tray down on the table, trying not to sigh in relief in front of the men, seeing all the drinks are still full and that none spilled with the number of men that nearly knocked into me. I look up, but I freeze when I lock eyes with Steal’s dark gray ones, and the anger shining back at me is definitely a new thing.

Ah crap, I’m in so much trouble….

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