Business as Usual (Off The Subject) (8 page)

“Good evening, ladies,” I drawl with the accent I used before entering Southern three and a half years ago. The one I dropped to fit in more with my affluent classmates, though now I wish I hadn’t bothered. “What are you all celebrating tonight?” The answer is so obvious a blind man could see it, but I need to get the conversation rolling.

“Jenny’s getting
married
!” one of the women shouts and the rest of the group screams shrilly. I resist the urge to cringe and flash them my sexy smile. “And which one of you lovely ladies is Jenny?”

They giggle and point to a blonde wearing a tiara.

I press my hand to my chest. “
This
gorgeous woman is Jenny?” I reach for her hand. “Any way you can call off the wedding? No? And to think, I never even got a chance.”

The woman blushes and all her friends giggle in a way that tells me this isn’t their first stop. “Jenny’s taken, but I’m available,” one of them says.

I scan the group. “Which one of you said that?”

The girl who raises her hand looks suddenly shy. She’s in her early thirties and slightly overweight. Her hair is in a plain bob and there’s little to no makeup on her face. She’s exactly the kind of woman Sabrina always made fun of toward the end of our relationship. Sure, she never insulted the women to their faces—at least not when I was around—but the victims always knew. I decide I want this woman to feel good about herself before she leaves tonight. I don’t even give a fuck about the tips.

When the woman sees that I’m skirting around the group toward her, she turns bright red and tries to look away. I pull up a chair next to her. “What’s your name?”

Her mouth opens and closes like a fish tossed onto a creek bank.

“Sophie,” the friend standing next to her volunteers with a giggle.

“Hey, Sophie. I’m Ben. I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before.”

Her lips part again and she finally says, “That’s because I’ve never been here before.”

“Well, that has definitely been my loss.” I stand and push the chair under the table. “Ladies, as you may have heard me tell Sophie, I’m Ben and I’m going to take care of you tonight.”

They shriek and I wait for a couple of them to make their obligatory
they know how they’d like me to take care of them
remarks.

I tilt my head and give them a pretend stern look. “Now, now
ladies
. The night is young. Plenty of time for that.” I shift my weight. “I’m ready to take your drink orders if you know what you want, but I need to check all y’all’s IDs first.”

The women are all in their late twenties and early thirties, but if I’ve learned one thing from this job it’s that women close to twenty-one hate it when they’re carded and women over thirty love it.

They all show me their IDs, and I take particular time with Sophie’s. I get their orders and slide back behind the bar. Brittany, who’s been watching the show, glares at me.

“Don’t fuck with that girl, Masterson.”

It takes me a moment to get what she’s saying. My anger surges. “You think I’m fucking with her? What kind of asshole do you take me for?”

“An asshole who’ll do anything to win a bet.”

I shake my head in disgust. “Then I guess you really don’t know me.” But whose fault is that? I’ve been so angry these past few months that I’ve made playing the dick card an art. It’s no surprise that she’d think the worst of me. Her eyes fill with guilt when she hears the force behind my words. I lean closer and lower my voice. “I’m not fucking with her, okay? She’s the kind of girl that Sabrina used to trash. I don’t know why I want to be nice to her. I just do.”

“Sorry,” she says. “I can be a real jerk sometimes.”

Although Britt knows about the rape charges and my bitterness toward Sabrina, I’ve told her very little about our relationship, other than she was a first-class bitch even before the false accusation. I grin. “No shit.”

She flashes me a smile in return before getting serious again. “But be careful with that girl, Ben. If you’re too nice to her, she’s not going to understand when you don’t ask her out. I think it’s sweet that you want to help build her self-esteem, but be careful.”

Sensing the truth in her words, I nod.

Her smile returns. “And don’t worry. I won’t tarnish your rep as a dickhead by letting people know that you actually have a soul.”

I roll my eyes.

“So we good?” she asks, her eyebrows raised.

“Of course.”

I put in the group’s order for appetizers and make their drinks. I’m about to take their order to the table when the door opens and a group of people walks in the door, laughing and talking loudly.

Brittany looks up as she’s pouring a draft beer.

I recognize this group immediately. They’re the theater kids who came in the night before. They stuck together while they were here, tipped well. But I’m kidding myself by pretending I’m not looking for one of their number in particular. I haven’t seen her yet.

My eyes are on the door as I put the drinks on the tray, so I’m watching when it finally opens and she runs through it. The guy she was with last night is close behind, and he snags her hand and pulls her back to him. They shut the door and join their group.

“What’s the story with her?” Brittany asks, standing behind me.

I look away. “Who?”

“Don’t play stupid with me,” she says with a laugh. “We both know who. What’s the story?”

I shake my head and scowl. “There’s no story. They’re the cast and crew from the theater down the street. Their play has a two-night run. They came in last night and they’re back tonight.”

“And…?”

“And nothing.” I try to get around her, but she blocks my path. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“That’s bullshit. I saw you talking to her when you took her order, then you watched her for the rest of the night. What’s her name? You at least have to know that,” she teases.

I press my lips together in irritation. “Alexa. Now get out of my way, or I’m going to blow my tips from the rowdy bachelorette party.” I lift an eyebrow. “Or is that your plan?” I try to sound pissed, but we both know I’m on the defensive.

She scoffs and steps aside. “As if I needed any help. Get to it.” She smacks me on the ass as I pass by.

The ladies are happy to see me and the band begins to set up while I’m setting their glasses on the table.

The theater group is at the next table and I keep stealing glances. Alexa is sitting next to the guy who escorted her inside and there’s a notable change in the way they’re interacting tonight. His hand rests high on her upper thigh and she’s not brushing it off. Something about her is different too…there’s a confidence that wasn’t there before.

Why I give a rat’s ass is beyond me, yet I do. I’m not jealous, more like intrigued. Something about this girl has crawled under my skin since she burst in the door with her friend the night before. She took in the room with a gaze that said everything she saw was hers to be conquered. Next she intrigued me with her ambitious summer program. Then when she went out onto the dance floor, she caught the attention of every human in the room in possession of a pair of balls. Perhaps she’s a siren.

I nearly choke on my own thought. When did I turn into a romantic?

I head back to the bar, but then turn on my heels. I’m already over here. I might as well take the orders for the theater group’s table and keep all the tips. Or at least that’s what I tell myself as my feet carry me to the table where she’s sitting.

“How was tonight’s performance?” I ask, trying to not stare at her. Her black hair is a sharp contrast to her pale skin and startling blue eyes. I now worry that this was a bad idea because my eyes are drawn to her, as if I can’t control myself.

Look at someone else, idiot
.

I tear my gaze away and find her friend, the girl who came to the bar to get her last night, and focus on her. She’s pretty and she likes the attention I’m giving her. She was alone then, and I don’t see a guy with her tonight either. Unattached. Good choice.

“Great!” is the group’s enthusiastic response.

I take their orders, sneaking glances at Alexa, but she’s too busy looking at the guy she’s with to even notice. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I head back to the bar to get their drinks, an easy order. Most of the guys want beer; a couple of the girls want wine. My mystery girl wants a lemon drop martini. I tell myself that the fact that I remember it’s her drink from the night before makes me an attentive bartender, not a stalker worthy of my almost sex-offender label.

“Well?” Brittany asks.

“Well, what?” my irritation is real this time, though it’s not necessarily directed at her. More because I don’t know a goddamn thing about Alexa other than she’s working for the charity and that her electric blue eyes are hypnotic.

Brittany laughs. “Never in a million years would I have thought some random girl could do this to you, Benjamin.”

“Fuck off, Britt.”

She laughs again and walks away to wait on a customer.

I understand why she’s so amused. I’ve worked here for almost three months, and until now, the only interest I’ve shown in a customer is in how much I can get her to tip me. Tonight I’ve expressed an interest in two.

I need to get my shit together.

Lexi

I’m more nervous than I care to admit. Rob wasn’t particularly attentive at the theater tonight, but as soon as we walked out the doors, he snagged my hand and let me know that we were together. Although I was the one who flirted with him last night, I now worry that Rob will expect more than I plan to deliver.

He leans into my ear. “Relax, Lexi. I won’t bite.” Then he grins. “Not unless you ask.”

My breath sucks in and the bartender from the night before returns with our drinks. I tried not to pay him more attention than necessary when he took our order—I’m a bit embarrassed about how much I told him about the program last night—but I turn to him now, when I glance up at him now, he’s looking directly at me.

I flush and I tell myself that it’s because the room is warm then force myself to turn away. Our group rehashes the night’s performance as the bartender finishes handing out our drinks. They talk about getting together to put on a play this summer, but we all know it’s unlikely we’ll do it, even if we ignore the fact.

Several people get up to dance, but Rob doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to join them. Our new semi-privacy encourages me to take the offensive and let him know where I stand. “Rob, I know I was the one to come on to you, but I’m not the kind of girl you usually go for.”

His eyes dance with amusement. “And what kind of girl is that?”

My face heats up and I stammer, trying to figure out what to say and not insult him.

He laughs. “Relax. You’re right. You’re not my usual type. Maybe that’s why I’m interested. I just want to have some fun tonight.”

“I’m not that kind of girl, Rob.” I cringe as the words leave my mouth. I sound like I’ve come straight out of the 1950s.

“I promise that I’m not trying to get laid tonight, Lexi.” He picks up my drink and presses it into my hand.

My eyes widen at his bluntness.

“Hey.” He shrugs. “I know I have a reputation. That’s why I wanted to put it out there. I figured that if you’re not worried about me trying to score with you, you might relax a bit. You’re always so intense.”

“Rob.” Now I feel like an idiot.

He grabs my hand and lifts the glass. “Drink.”

I laugh, even though he’s being bossy. I take a generous sip of the drink. “Happy now?”

“Not yet, but the night is young and so are you. So let’s have some fun.” He takes a long drag from his bottle of beer, then lowers it to the table.

Let go and have fun. It’s what everyone around me is doing; it’s what everyone wants
me
to do. My therapist is constantly telling me to ease up. While she’ll be happy that I’m out and interacting in the world, I suspect getting drunk isn’t on her list of recommended life choices. Still, Caroline is always harping on about how I need to have a full college experience, and we all know that getting drunk is pretty high on
that
list.

We talk for several minutes and before I realize it, my drink is gone.

“I’ll be right back,” Rob says as he stands then heads to the bar.

When he returns with our drinks, I ask him to tell me about himself. He’s attending a community college about twenty miles away, getting perquisites to transfer to the University of Tennessee in Knoxville while working as a waiter.

“You should be an actor, Rob,” I say, feeling the effects of the first drink. Since my first drink in months was last night, the alcohol has gone straight to my head.

“I thought that’s what I was doing in your play, little Lexi.” He taps my nose.

“No, for real. In New York or in Hollywood. You’re really good.”

His gaze lands on my mouth before lifting to my eyes. “You’re really good too.”

I’m not sure what he means. I know the delivery of my line was passable at best, but my head is getting too fuzzy to give much thought to his comment. I turn toward the band and watch the couples gliding around on the dance floor. “You said I need to have fun, and I want to dance.”

He gives a laugh and stands, extending his hand. “Whatever the lady wants.”

Once I’m out of my chair, I pull him onto the dance floor. It’s a fast song and I start moving to the beat. Rob watches me with an amused grin before joining in. We dance for two songs and I’m just getting warmed up when the band changes to a ballad.

Rob stands still, lifting his eyebrows as if asking me what I want to do.

I close the distance between us and wrap my arms around his neck. “I don’t want to sit down yet.”

His arms wrap lightly around my back. “Whatever you want. It’s Lexi’s fun night out.”

I laugh and sway to the music. About half of our group is dancing and the other half is at the table talking. Sylvia is dancing with a local guy in the crew, the same one who was paying her attention last night. I look up into Rob’s amused face. “What’s so funny?”