Infinity: Based on a True Story (2 page)

F
ive months
into working full-time at Capri, Eugene had hired a new bartender and his name was Maximilian Grant.

Everyone called him Max. At first, I hated Max. When Eugene hired him I worked fewer hours, which resulted in less money and tips.

Plus, well, Max was hotter than sin.

Smooth, caramel-colored skin, short, wavy black hair, piercing almond-shaped brown eyes, and dimples to fucking die for. He was tall and broad. Toned and muscular in all the right places, like those NBA players you can’t help but stare at while they’re on screen.

The way he worked up a light sweat while bartending… my God, it was amazing. There were moments when I wanted to angrily lick that sweat away—angrily, because for some reason I envied him.

He was my competition. He was in the way.

Some nights, while he showed off that crooked white smile and only one of his dimples, his sweat seemed to be made of pure gold. Like each drop was worth a million dollars.

The girls came just for him and even the hot guys thought he was a cool enough dude to ask for a drink from. They paid him extra, which meant I was stuck in my crappy corner getting cheap tips from perverted men or lesbians.

Max had no problem with me at all. I mean, why would he care? He was getting paid. He was sexy. He owned a nice car. He had a hot girlfriend. He had it all. The list could go on for days. He might as well have been living the life of a ball player.

And me… well, I shared a two-bedroom apartment with a roommate, I drove a black 1999 two-door Beetle that didn’t have a functioning radio and was in dire need of a paint job, and I didn’t have a boyfriend or men chasing after me.

Not that I was ugly or anything, I just wasn’t very involved with the dating life. The fast zone wasn’t really my place.

But one night… it all changed. I was no longer a stranger to Max.

Eugene called me back to his office with a sullen look on his face. And the words he let out, I did
not
want to hear. “We just can’t afford two full-time employees behind the counter right now. I’m sorry, Shannon, but I have to let you go.”

I argued with Eugene for thirty minutes straight but, eventually, I gave up and left. There was no point in fighting. First thing tomorrow I’d be job hunting.

I entered the backroom and yanked down my leather jacket, scowling as I spotted Max sitting in the corner with one of the waitresses on his lap.

She giggled, ran her hand down his chest, but his eyes were on me, one eyebrow cocked.

I kept my eye on him, tugging on my jacket and watching as he dismissed the waitress and called for me.

I ignored him, going for my locker and taking out my belongings. He started to come my way, but quickly changed his mind, entering Eugene’s office and slamming the door behind him.

Not that the slam could be heard, the bass of the music drowned it out. After pulling out my keys from my satchel I stormed for the exit and rushed across the parking lot.

“Shannon!”

I was inside my car, trying to get the piece of shit to start.

Surprised to hear Max calling after me, I whipped my head up, pausing, my eyes fixed on his as he jogged across the parking lot. When he met up at my car, he smiled down at me.

I flared my nostrils, eyebrows furrowed, and I angrily (and manually) rolled my window down. “What the hell do you want,
job-stealer
?”

He blinked, stunned. “Job stealer? What did I do to you?”

I clutched the wheel, ignoring that faint smile and small gleam in his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Just a word.”

My eyebrows lifted and I waved an impatient hand before sitting back against my seat and folding my arms.

“I heard Eugene was letting you go and, uh…” he scratched the top of his head, “well, I told him that if you go, it would be really stupid fucking move. He didn’t take it lightly. I thought he would end up firing my ass but I got him to think it over and he’s offering your job back. In return I will work fewer hours. Makes it fair for everyone.”

I blinked rapidly. “Wait—what?”

“You’re
not
fired.”

“What do you mean I’m not fired? He just told me I was—wait, why are you even defending me?”

Max pressed a hand on my car, leaning forward. “Because I know every single female employee in Capri, except you. Shit, I’m not sure you even know my name.”

“So what?”

He gave a crooked, nearly heart-stopping smile. “Okay, maybe a part of it is also because Eugene is my uncle and I told him it would be really foolish to let someone like you go. I mean, you work hard. You have fun. You’re really good at what you do—people love your drinks. You’re a necessity here and this is my father’s business. He’d hate to see it go downhill because of dumb mistakes. He’d also hate to hear that I no longer have a job in a city I had to move to for school because my uncle wanted to be an idiot. So, Shannon, you are
not
fired.”

My breathing stilled for a moment.

For one, Max was leaning against my beat up car, arm flexed and body toned beneath a black muscle tank, and two, I wasn’t fucking fired! I’d never been so relieved.

Max cocked a brow, confused by my silence and stunned expression. “Unless you don’t want to work here anymore.”

“No—no,” I quickly defended my silence. “Trust me, I do. I need this job. More than you realize.”

“All right then. Get your sweet ass back in there and start serving up those drinks. We’ve got customers waiting.”

I grinned, lowering my head, my brown curls curtaining my face as I hid a blush. “You didn’t have to, you know,” I murmured, pushing out of the car and shutting the door behind me.

“I know… but I wanted to. Consider it a favor.” He started walking backwards. “One day you’ll owe me one and then you can’t say no.” A smile took over his face before he turned around and jogged to the door.

He walked through the back entrance, glancing over his shoulder once before disappearing. I stared ahead, huffing a laugh in utter disbelief.

Max had just saved me from being jobless. Hell yeah, I owed him a favor. I owed him a thousand favors. I loved working at Capri. I loved getting creative. I loved making over five hundred dollars every weekend night.

Shit, if we’re being honest, that was stripper money, only I didn’t have to take off my clothes to get paid. I could keep my dignity and still make more than enough money to provide for myself.

But that favor Max was asking for… it turned out it wasn’t a simple one. He really meant that I
owed
him, and not with work or covering a shift for him one night so he could take his girlfriend or some random chick out on a date, but something else.

Something completely unrelated to bartending and way out of my zone. He wanted to bring me to a place I desperately wanted to avoid. The zone that I, Shannon Hales, did not belong in.

The
fast
zone.

It was simple, yet I made it so difficult.

Just one night. I owed him
one
single night.

One night to allow him to do anything he wanted with me, whether it was a date or dragging me to his apartment and cuffing me to the bed while riding me senseless.

I admit I was curious, but I played hard to get for a few days.

On the third day, a Wednesday evening, I finally told him yes.

And after that night, our friendship was never the same.

T
he door creaks open
.

Light footsteps cross the tile after the door shuts and then I hear a long, weary sigh as the couch in the corner crunches. I wait for him to speak, but I know that he won’t. He probably thinks I’m asleep.

“John?” I call.

His silhouette perks up, his hair glistening from droplets of rain. “Yeah?”

Silence again. My mouth works hard to form words… an apology. I am sorry, but I meant what I said. He has to move on sooner or later. The last thing I want is for John to become depressed over losing me. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

John stands immediately and comes to the bed, sitting on the edge. The moonlight reveals him, shadows of raindrops cloaking the right half of his face. “No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left like that.”

“No. I shouldn’t have said that to you.” I grab his hand. “I just… I want you to understand where I’m coming from, saying something like that to you. You’re only twenty-nine, John. You’re young. You have so much living ahead of you. It would hurt me as an angel or a ghost or whatever I turn out to be to see you waste that life by neglecting your career or never having a family.”

He laughs, and I’m so glad to see the smile actually touch his eyes. “A ghost?” he repeats. He leans towards me, kissing my forehead. “You’re a goof, you know that?”

I grin. “I know.”

His mouth works hard to form the right words. “But, you know me, Shannon. I will be unhappy. I will grieve. No doubt about it.”

“Promise me you won’t let it turn to depression, though. Because I don’t want that.”

“I’ll try not to be depressed. Just in a lot of pain.”

“And promise me you won’t turn into an alcoholic or druggie or something.”

“I can guarantee you that will never happen.” And actually, I’m sure that’s true.

John’s father was an the alcoholic and, sadly, his mother abused drugs, which resulted in her spending countless months in rehab, demolishing her perfect career as a news anchor for channel 9. She overdosed when John was fifteen. It destroyed him.

In high school he was teased and bullied so he dropped out. Fortunately he went to a community college to get his GED and then decided to go to culinary school to do what he loved most: cook.

He’s never wanted anything to do with drugs and to this day you’ll hardly ever catch him drinking hard liquor. He sticks with red and white wines and even a light beer here and there. Our pasts are very similar, which is part of the reason we became so close.

“I love you.” He places a kiss on my cheek.

“I love you too, Johnny.” He kisses my lips next, sweet and tender. Soft and warm. I melt inside, my tummy thrashing with those flutters I love feeling whenever he’s near.

“Let’s not argue anymore, okay? I hate causing you stress.”

“Hmm… only if we can make a deal,” I bargain.

His brows bunch up. “What’s that?”

“I promise to avoid arguments if, and
only
if, you promise to start going back to work… at least during the day—please!”

His face stiffens. I know John. He’s ready to tell me no, but he knows saying no will result in another argument and no deal, so he says, “I’ll… start tomorrow I guess.” He rubs his brow. “But I won’t be too happy about being away from you—and I’m only staying for a few hours. Not all day.”

“Good enough for me.”

His head shakes as he lifts the blanket to cover me. “Get some sleep. I’ll be right over here.”

“Kay.”

After placing a kiss on my forehead he goes for the sofa, laying flat on his back. Several seconds later and he’s out like a light, snoring with the ferocity of a lion’s roar. I nuzzle my cheek on my blanket and shut my eyes, but then my phone vibrates twice.

A text message.

I pick it up, and my heart skips a beat.

I haven’t heard from
him
in months… not since I told him I was sick and that he needed to stay away—that I’d chosen John to be the one to be by my side as I laid on my sickbed.

If John witnessed him staring at me the way he used to, with eyes so full of passion and caring and love, it would ruin everything. Our marriage. My final days. Our love. Everything. I couldn’t risk hurting him right now.

I swallow thickly, dropping the phone and shutting it off. I won’t respond. Maybe he’ll take the hint that I don’t want him to see me—that he shouldn’t. Not like this.

Chocolate hair, so thin.

Weak.

Emotional.

White as a blanket of snow.

Not like this. Not until I’m lifeless in a casket. At least then I won’t have to confront him.

“
S
o listen
,” Max says after chugging down a swig of his beer. I turned my attention to him, sipping on my peach margarita while smiling behind the straw. “Remember that favor I said you’d owe me?”

I released my straw, placing my glass down as my smile slowly evaporated. He looked me over, eyes focusing on mine. They didn’t dare shift, not even as I stared back, my metal-gray irises bolted with his smooth brown ones. “Yeah…”

“I’d like to ask for that favor now.”

I shifted in my chair, straightening my back. After clearing my throat, I said, “Okay… what is it? Need me to cover a shift for you? I don’t do much these days. I don’t mind taking on a whole night. After all, that’s how it was before Maximilian the Great was hired.” I teased him, grinning.

He grinned back, his eyes relaxing. He turned in his seat to face me, giving me all of his attention. Even as the other female employees walked past in their black shirts, revealing slender hips, flat bellies and tight, low-rise jeans, his remained glued to me. Me, with my sleeveless tee knotted in the back, ripped jeans, and black ankle boots.

Leaning forward, his chest nearing mine, Max murmured, “Covering a shift isn’t exactly what I had in mind as a favor.”

“No? Then what was it?”

“Come on, Shannon. This is a free pass for me. Not that I feel like you really ‘owe me’ or anything, but I know you appreciate me for helping you keep your job. You wouldn’t do anything to risk that again, even if you really don’t owe me.”

My face warped with confusion. “What do you mean?”

Max’s eyes softened as he reached up, running the back of his hand down my jawline. When he reached my chin, he pressed the pad of his thumb on the center and held it firmly between his fingers.

My breath hitched from the sudden movement, my arms bombarded with goosebumps. He’d never touched me. There were plenty of times when I saw in his eyes that he wanted to do something to me, but he never went through with it.

But tonight, after closing, he was up close and personal.

“Come out with me Friday night. Brenda and Quincy are working the night shift.”

“How do you know I don’t have to work in VIP?”

His lips flattened, the look he gave me sarcastically asking
seriously?
“Because I checked. And because you hate VIP. Saw it on a sticky note in E’s office.”

“Geez. Stalker,” I teased again.

“Not stalking. Just curious. One night, Little Shakes. That’s all I ask of you.” He was still holding onto my chin, like he didn’t want me to look elsewhere but into his eyes.

“Little Shakes?” I breathed.

“Yes.”

“What does that stand for?”

“The way you shake those hips to the music when you whip up those drinks...” he shook his head and licked his lips, “… you have no fucking idea how many times I’ve wanted to come up behind you to join in a dance. Luckily I know how to keep things professional.”

My heart sped up a notch, envisioning us on the dance floor. Moving. Grinding. Touching. Rubbing. Holding. Kissing with way too much enthusiasm. Making out until our bodies could no longer endure the ache or need.

“Why have you never tried making a move?”

“Because it just so happens that when I watch you, it’s too hard for me to move—too hard for me to function.”

I laughed, removing my chin from the soft grip of his fingers and picking up my margarita. “You have a response for everything, huh, playboy.”

“What?” He chuckled. “I’m telling the truth.” He picked up his bottle to finish off his beer. When he was done, he asked, “So what do you say? Will I be granted one night with you, Shakes?”

I blinked up at him as my lips wrapped around the black straw again. His eyes immediately darted down to them and his entire demeanor changed. His nostrils flared up a little, his large body no longer relaxed. Instead of holding in what he had to say (because, lets face it, Maximilian never bit his tongue) he muttered gruffly, “Your lips are so fucking perfect.”

I pulled away from my drink as a song by
X Ambassadors
played around us. I wanted to say yes right then and there. I wanted to pounce right on top of him, have him carry me to his two-door Audi and drive me to that apartment that I heard so much about from various female customers at the bar. But I was a smart girl. It was known that I was far from easy.

“Your girlfriend?” I asked over my drink.

“No longer my girlfriend.”

“Hmm.”

“You’re hesitating. You must be chained up with someone already.”

“Nope. Single. No chains. It’s been that way for a while now.”

“Hmm,” he mimicked. I narrowed my eyes at him playfully, conjuring a silent laugh from his end.

“If I tell you I’ll think about it, will that be okay with you?

Max’s head tilted a little. He pressed his lips, standing from the stool smoothly and nodding. “Sure,” he said as he stepped behind me, planting his large, warm hands on my bare shoulders. His chest brushed across my back and he leaned forward, his lips touching the shell of my ear.

He smelled good, his scent reminding me of a warm, spring day. You know, that tingly, delightful feeling you get when you’ve waited for the snowy days to pass and for the sun to peek through, and when it finally happens you feel like you could take on the world?

There’s fresh grass and spring water and that sweet scent of honeysuckles.

Yeah, just like that.

Warm.

Comforting.

Alluring.

“Just don’t think about it for too long, Little Shakes.”

I fought a smile, sucking on my straw again as he walked towards the backroom. When he disappeared I sighed, trying my best to ignore the racing of my heart, wiping the sweat off my palms as if it would rid me of the words he’d just cast my way.

“Mmm-hmm,” Quincy said as he came to my end of the bar.

I whipped my head up as he grabbed my empty glass and rattled the ice. “What?” I asked, cheeks blazing.

“You have
never
finished a drink at this bar, Shannon. Someone must’ve heated you up.” Quincy smirked as his eyes trailed down to my lap, his blonde eyebrows wiggling.

“Oh, please. I just really needed one.”

“Yeah, yeah. We all know that’s a lie,” he joked. “Girl, you know you can’t deny that man. He already has you wrapped around his finger.”

“Does not!”

Quincy placed his elbows on the countertop, getting closer to me. “And I hear that once he has you, there is no way you can stop thinking about him. I hear that man is a
god
in the bedroom. By the end of it you’ll be worshipping him.” He fanned himself with exaggeration. “Too bad he isn’t into fine men like me.” Quincy lifted his hand and pretended to flip invisible hair over his shoulder as he turned for the drinks. I giggled as he twisted his eyebrow piercing and pursed his lips. “Take him up on it, Shannon. You know you want to!” His outburst caused a few of the waitresses to look our way.

My face heated up, probably as red as a cherry now. Seconds later, the door of the employee lounge opened and out walked Max. My smile dropped the instant he came out. He wasn’t alone.

His arm was wrapped around Brenda’s shoulders and he had her close, way too close for my liking. I wasn’t sure why seeing that hit me so hard, but it did. Was he doing this out of spite? Making me jealous so that I could go running and give it all up to him?

Shit. He had it all wrong. I wasn’t that type of girl. I didn’t go running to
any
man. I had dignity and sometimes a little too much pride. I wasn’t Brenda, the redhead that was a pro at giving a blowjob in the men’s bathroom stall.

I deserved patience and respect, and that damn sure wasn’t what Max was giving me. Not even ten minutes after a proposition and he had another chick on his arm?

Quincy shook his head with a hand on his hip, a look of pure disgust on his face. “You know what,” he mumbled as they passed by and Max completely ignored me, “I take what I said back. Don’t cash that check. Make his player-ass work for you.”

Quincy was right and I wanted to do that, but of course it didn’t turn out that way for me. My plans of ignoring him backfired.

It was a game of cat and mouse. Max was purposely getting under my skin and I allowed it. The thrill got to me. The chase became boring. I wanted more.

So I went running, chasing—hurdling toward him like my fucking life depended on it.