Page 57 of Cherry Beats

“Be warned: more than thirty seconds of ogling, and I start to charge, though.”

The dark-haired guy with a few specks of silver running down the sides, who was clearly a lot older than us, pressed his hip against the bar and leaned down to rest his weight on one elbow. “Are you expensive?”

Molly raised a brow. “Do I look cheap to you?”

The man’s smile was slow and seductive, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he lifted his head and caught my eye. “What’s she drinking?”

“Knowing Molly, a full bottle of Moët & Chandon Imperial Rose if someone else is buying,” I answered dryly.

“Does she share?” Mystery man asked me.

“That depends. Do you have a twin brother?”

Molly’s soft chuckle was sweet, but the man couldn’t hide his scowl as he looked back at her in confusion. “Don’t worry, sugar,” Molly drew out, leaning forward and pushing her luscious red lips forward. “I can share. And I only bite if you ask me to.”

The guy’s brows jumped before he looked back at me and gave me a nod.

Bottle of Moët & Chandon coming right up, I thought.

If only it was that easy for the rest of us to be so straightforward with our words and choices.

The two of them huddled in closer, and the introductions began while I popped the bottle, filled the ice bucket, dropped the Moët in place to chill, and pushed it closer.

“Thanks, baby girl,” Molly offered with a passing wink and a smile before she and her new interest walked over to a more intimate table that sat in the snug corner of the bar.

“Ah, true love.” I sighed to myself, folding my arms over my chest.

That guy was screwed. They always were. Molly could eat men up, spit out their bones, dab the corners of her mouth, and walk away without ever thinking about them again, while I was a slave to my lyrical heart and overpowering emotions. I should probably blame Bryan Adams for that. He was the guy who told me no love or lust was fickle.

I eventually got back to work, busying myself as much as I could. In between serving customers and checking if some of our part-time staff were doing exactly what they were meant to be doing, after about an hour, I managed to slide over to Molly and her friend, lifting their bottle out of the ice bucket to check how much was left.

“We’ll take another one,” the guy said, not even looking at me as he leaned over the table, completely lost in Molly.

“Trey meant to say please, Tess. I’m so sorry for his bad manners.” My best friend smiled sweetly.

“Sorry… Tess,” Trey offered sarcastically.

I immediately didn’t like the way he said my name, the sleazy prick, but who was I to tell Molly who to fuck and who to swipe right on?

“No problem. I’ll be right back with another.”

The two of them laughed together as I walked away.

“Everything okay, Tess?” Elle, one of the barmaids asked as she walked past with a tray of beer in her hands.

“Great, Elle. Can you check the toilets for me when you next get a break on the bar?”

“Already been in five minutes ago and signed the cleaning sheet. Everything looks good.”

“This is why you’re my favourite,” I sang, waltzing past her.

“You say that to everyone who takes toilet duty off your hands,” she called back over her shoulder.

I laughed softly and went to grab Molly’s second bottle of Moët. It was stored in the bottom shelf of the backlit fridges behind the bar, tucked away in the corners. I was bent down, resting on the balls of my feet when I felt my phone begin to buzz in the back pocket of my jeans.

A withheld number was calling, which made it easier for me to roll my eyes, ignore it, and slip the phone back into my pocket. By the time I stood up, pulled my jumper back into place, and was beginning to uncork the Moët, the phone stopped ringing.

The cork popped strategically into the palm of my hand after I’d twisted the wires and slowly released it. I was just about to take Molly and Trey their drink when my phone began to buzz again.

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