Page 4 of Don't Speak
I turn to place a bottle back on the shelf, and when I turn back around to take the next order, I freeze. It’s the man from the café earlier. Damn, he’s gorgeous. He’s probably 6’2”, with an average build, some defined muscle, which is decorated in black and grey tattoos, and he has hazel eyes and medium-length dark-brown hair.I could definitely grab hold of that.Is it normal for me to see the same stranger twice on the same day? I mean, I know it’s a small town, but still. I went from never seeing him to seeing him twice in the same day.
“What can I get for you?” I ask, looking him up and down a bit longer than I intended.
“What is your specialty with whiskey?” he responds, a slight smirk lifting on his face.
“I can make a pretty mean whiskey sour.”
“Then a whiskey sour is what I’ll have.”
“Coming right up.” Grabbing the shaker, I toss equal parts Jim Beam and lemon juice with equal parts simple syrup and egg white, shake with ice, and pour into a whiskey glass. Garnishing it with a lemon wedge, I hand the glass to him and take his card. “Do you want to keep it open or close it?”
“Close it, please.” I do just that, printing his receipt and handing it to him with a pen. He signs and hands it back before walking away. That was weird. Not a talker, I see. Grabbing his receipt, I look down and see that he tipped me $100 on his one-drink tab. “What the hell?” I say, a little too loudly.
“What? Is everything okay?” Cora asks, concern etched in her features as she shakes up a mojito.
“Yeah. Everything is great. That guy just tipped me $100, and he only ordered a whiskey sour,” I respond, wide-eyed and in shock.
“No shit! That’s awesome! Where is he?”
Looking up to find the man, I realize he’s long gone, disappeared somewhere into the crowd. With as many people as there are in here, I won’t be able to find him. “I don’t know. I can’t see him from here, but he closed out, so I don’t think he’s coming back.” I look back down at the receipt again, looking for a name. What I find, though, is weirder than I have words to explain. Next to his signature are the words, “Be careful, little lioness. People are not as they seem.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The bar is already packed by the time I walk in. It’s one of the only bars in this small town that caters to the younger crowds, so it’s to be expected. She’s been working here for a few years now, much to my distaste. I don’t like the idea of her working late nights around a bunch of drunk men, who all generally have one thing on their minds. Luckily, anyone who has ever tried to get near her has failed miserably, and if she didn’t have Cora here, I probably would have sabotaged this job for her years ago and set something else up.
Walking down the spiral staircase, I spot her behind the bar, tending to the patrons waiting for their drinks. The DJ isloud, and lights dance along the walls. People are in all stages of intoxication, from the stone-cold sober new arrivals to the sloppy drunk people stumbling to the bathroom. I hate when adults don’t know how to control their liquor. It’s irresponsible and dangerous, and people just getweirdwhen they’re drunk. Having dealt with a mother who drowned her sorrows in the bottom of a bottle, I’ve not had any interest. Maybe a glass of wine with dinner, but otherwise, I don’t touch the stuff.
Making my way down, I cross the dance floor over to a standing area where I just observe for now. “Hot In Herre” by Nelly plays over the speakers, and men and women grind against each other on the dance floor. Several staff members are walking around and collecting the abandoned glasses. There’s one in particular that I notice keeps glancing up toward the bar, looking for Nikki. I watch him a bit longer before he stops to chat with a few frat guys. I move closer, taking a few steps toward them so I can eavesdrop on their conversation.
“That bitch behind the bar is playing hard to get,” I hear him tell the red-headed guy of the group. “She has no idea what’s coming to her. No one tells me no.”
“Which bitch are you talking about? There are two behind the bar,” the redhead states.
“The brunette, Nikki. The blonde is Cora. While I haven’t fucked her either, Nikki has been a bitch about it. That little cunt.”
“Do you need help with this one this time?” a shorter, black-haired man chimes in.
“No, I can handle her by myself. I’m gonna rock her world. She’ll regret ever telling me no.”
My blood boils, and I clench my fists. This time? What have these pieces of shit done?
“Make sure you record it for us. You can’t completely leave us out of the loop,” the redhead states with a chuckle.
“Oh, I plan on it. I’m going to want to remember this night for a long time,” he says before walking away to take the glasses in his hand to the bar.
My lip curls in disgust, and rage begins to further fester inside me. You have no idea what you just got yourself into, motherfucker. I make my way over to the bar, getting in line to get a drink I don’t intend on drinking. The man in front of me leaves with his order, and I step up to the counter. She spins and freezes, probably recognizing me from earlier. I’m not from here, and a small town like this probably notices outsiders more than the average person.
“What can I get for you?” she asks, looking at me curiously.
“What is your specialty with whiskey? I respond, smirking at how quickly she recovers.
“I can make a pretty mean whiskey sour.”
“Then a whiskey sour is what I’ll have.”
She starts on the drink, and as I wait, I glance around looking for Mr. Frat Boy. He stands on the other side of the bar, cleaning the glasses, but not without glaring daggers at her. Something feels off about him, and I’m not willing to leave her alone tonight. “Do you want to keep it open or close it?” she asks, snapping my gaze back to her.
“Close it, please.” She does, handing me my receipt with a pen. I sign it, add a little note, and hand it back before walking away. I didn’t really want the drink. I just wanted a moment to talk to her. Be near her. Walking back to the spot I occupied earlier, I linger a while longer until most people start to leave. It’s almost 2am, and the bar will be closing soon. I’ve been keeping an eye on the piece of shit, who continues to sneak glances at her every once in a while. Leaving my untouched drink on the tabletop, I exit the bar, heading to my truck. Once I get in, I pull it around to the employee lot and wait.
