Just a City Boy (Midnight Train Series) (5 page)

Chapter Ten

Bracing myself for disappointment, I entered my apartment with my bags of groceries. His crap was all over the place, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Small favors.

I put my things away and started the bacon for lunch. I was having a BLT and I would not be swayed. I also grabbed my phone out of my room. I was thinking I had left it charging, but the cable was out, so I must have forgotten and had to plug it back in. Sometimes I couldn’t keep up with technology.

I fried my bacon, twiddled with Facebook and Twitter on my phone, and mulled over things. I could throw his things out the window onto the sidewalk.

But my mama didn’t raise no white trash. I was not going to make a scene like a Jerry Springer debutante. Besides, I’d already done that a month ago, and he calmly brought everything back up.

I was as spineless as grandma’s fried calamari and okra. I even sheepishly helped him get his heavier suitcase through the door.

My inability to kick him out really embarrassed me.

Lunch was delicious; I cleaned up after myself and started bagging up his things in grocery sacks. I would just line the wall with his junk. I looked at my couch.

It had been a great find at a Salvation Army, nice vintage fabric and quality wood. Now there was a permanent dent in the cushions from Ray’s sorry butt.

What if?

I had a fantastic idea. I got my phone and snapped some photos. It was a little difficult on my small screen, but I managed to enter the text just the way I liked it and then uploaded the photos.

Feeling proud of myself for taking action, I decided to finish out my day with a walk to the library. I snagged some sappy romance titles and stopped by another thrift store on my way home.

A dress in the window caught my eye and I sashayed in to talk to Margaret.

“Lauren honey!” she cried when she saw me. “I haven’t seen you in a while! I’ve missed your smiling face!” she said.

“Hi Margaret. I just had some stuff, you know?” I said.

“Of course. Let me guess, you saw that dress in the window!” she said.

I nodded.

“I said to myself, if Lauren sees this, she won’t be able to help herself,” Margaret chuckled. “Let me help you get it off the dummy. Do you still have that discount coupon you were saving for a rainy day?”

I had to laugh. I held up my massive purse. “You know I do,” I said.

We got the green jeweled dress off and I carried it reverently into the dressing room.

I stared in the mirror.

It was glorious. It form-fitted to my breasts, then gently cascaded over my hips and flared out at my knees. It was a cocktail dress like no other, and I had to have it. I mentally ticked off the dollars and cents and did the math with my coupon. Yes!

Thank goodness Margaret didn’t mind my paying in change, as I emptied most of my tip money onto the counter. We counted out the price and I used a credit card to make up the small amount of difference.

“So worth it,” I said as I took my bag and smiled at Margaret on my way out.

“Don’t be a stranger, darlin’!” she called out to me when I jingled the bell while exiting through the glass doors.

“I won’t!” I shouted.

I floated all the way home, imagining how I looked in the dress. It was a keeper. I couldn’t wait for Friday now!

Ray on my couch sunk my mood immediately.

I glowered at him and stalked to my room, hanging my dress up and giving it one more loving caress before I reorganized the shoes in my closet. I could hear Ray in the living room surfing channels on the television and talking to someone on his phone.

Ray had friends?

Whatever. I thought I had a solution that would really work this time, and I waited patiently for my phone to start ringing.

For dinner I made myself a johnnycake. When I opened the fridge to get the bacon out, I noticed the stuff I’d already fried up was gone. So were half the eggs. Again.

I felt anger pooling in my gut. I closed my eyes and breathed out through my mouth, letting that frustration go. My phone rang!

I answered with excitement.

“Yes,” I said. “Yes!” I said again. “Absolutely, “ I said. I smiled wide when I clicked my phone off and turned the corner from my kitchen to the living room.

“Ray, you going to be around for a bit?” I asked him sweetly.

“Yes, what’s up?” he asked suspiciously.

“Just wondered. Did you enjoy your little snack today?” I asked him.

He frowned at me, as well he should. He knew I was being flippant. I wiggled my fingers at him and returned to my work in the kitchen.

I wanted to scrub everything down before Friday. On Friday I worked a long shift at Lazy Eye’s, and then I was headed to Lonely Nights for the best job on the planet.

Karaoke at Jack’s was where I warmed up to do my real job, the job I wished I could do every day all day, and not just in the evening hours between 7 p.m. and 1am.

When my kitchen sparkled, I kept an ear open for steps in the outer hall. Sure enough, loud booming steps came up to the door. Ray stood immediately.

“Are you expecting someone?” he asked incredulously.

“As a matter of fact, I am Sugar,” I said. “Just stay put, I’ll get it,” I told him in my best Southern Belle voice. He sat bag down and slung himself across the couch like an afghan.

I opened the door to an incredibly burly guy.

“Here about the couch?” he asked.

I swallowed and nodded. This man was ginormous. His shoulders almost filled the doorway and his thighs, wrapped in dark denim, were thicker than my waist.

I gestured to the couch where Ray had suddenly decided to stand again.

The big man handed me the money, then walked over to the couch.

“You get that end,” he directed Ray who turned three shades of gray in a matter of seconds. He nodded and lifted, then glared at me as he and the gentle giant carried the couch out the door and down the steps.

Ha! That should show Ray. I expected him to call his friend within the hour and to disappear himself out of my life.

I clapped my hands together in satisfaction.

I was going to miss my couch, I thought with a sad smile. But I pocketed the seventy five bucks. I wished I had done that three months ago, but oh well. Live and learn, as my mama used to say.

Chapter Eleven

The drug test was clean, as Zack knew it would be. It was Friday night, and he was ready for his first night. A clean snug T-shirt had been provided for him, and all he had to wear were his black cargo pants and black shoes. The T-shirt read ‘Bouncer’ on it.

He marveled at his good fortune. Whenever he thought back to the disaster that was his first and only attempt at armed robbery, he shuddered inside and his brain threatened to shut down or implode. If only every mistake was as easy to sweep under the rug. In a way, he was grateful that the Mickey Cobras had tried to make trouble for Lauren. Without them, she would have simply run off into the night, and he would remain on her radar as a dangerous criminal. At least now she knew him for what he was…a broken man with a broken life.

Be that as it may, he had a decent job. He just needed to make it work. There were some safety protocols he’d gone over with his superior, and he had a set of internal guidelines to follow too. He felt as prepared as he was going to get.

He locked up his belongings and walked to the lounge.

At night he was pleased to see that the matte black paint was accented by a long strand of white Christmas lights that wrapped around the soffits and there was another sign lit in blue neon that read: “Lonely Nights”. Underneath that was a cheap marquee that read “Lulu Tonight!” There was already a line out the door, and his shift wasn’t even supposed to start for ten minutes.

He showed his ID to the guy he was replacing and took his spot.

The evening wore on, him assessing the safety of guests and patrons and standing there looking menacing. He could pull off menacing; he wasn’t worried about that.

At his break, he left his post at the entrance and ventured further inside the club. Now that it was full and open for business, he could appreciate the simple décor.

Brenda had gone for that Big Band feel, with elegant faces of movie stars gone by done up in sepia tones. Low lights with green diffuser bowls cast a warm glow throughout the room. The wait staff wore 40s era waitress costumes and hairstyles, and all of the women wore bright red lipstick. He recalled a certain woman in red lipstick and felt a little hollow in his heart.

He shook it off and asked for water with lime spritz from the barkeep. They introduced themselves.

“I’m Matt. Worked here five years and counting. It doesn’t pay the best, but everyone is real nice to work with. Brenda made it a point not to hire any assholes,” Matt said.

Zack laughed a little. “Well I consider that high praise since she doesn’t really know me,” he said.

Matt smiled. “You’ll see. Brenda is a great judge of character. If you passed the drug test then you’re here because she likes you. Welcome aboard. Oh, and since you’re new, we’ll let it pass the first time,” he said.

“Let what pass?” Zack asked him.

“Standing with your mouth open when Lulu sings,” Matt said. He took a cloth and wiped down the bar counter and nodded his head toward the grand piano and stage.

Zack held his drink and turned toward it. For the moment, only the pianist sat at the piano and tinkled keys softly with a blue spotlight heating up his neck.

Then another light came on, and a woman walked to the front of the stage with a pair of stunning silver high heels, smooth beautifully shaped legs, and a green dress that flared at the knees and hugged her waist and breasts with bunched green fabric and had those straps that looked like pinup girls’ bathing suits.

Lauren stood there, looking at the full crowd and smiling with that obnoxious red lipstick and even white teeth.

Zack felt his heart slow to a stop, then rev up again, like a car that got a tank full of cheap gas. Then the pianist began the song and Lauren, aka Lulu, began to sing.

Zack’s left brain knew he was standing with his mouth hanging open, but his right brain didn’t care. He was blown away. Her voice, conspicuously Southern-accent free, was rich and full as a maple tree in early fall. It was syrup being poured over buckwheat pancakes. It was molasses dripping from a spoon into a cookie batter. It was melted chocolate ready to receive a swollen strawberry for a nice thick coat of delicious silk.

She sang about the street where you live, and he felt the best he’d felt in months. He wanted to cry. He wanted to dance with a girl. He wanted to hum along even though he’d never heard the song before. He heard chuckling behind him. Matt’s voice hovered over to him.

“Told you you were going to stand there with your mouth open,” he said with a laugh.

A waitress walked up to him with a big smile on her face.

“Matt, did you see this?” she asked. Matt barked a laugh, and the waitress held her hand out.

“Hi, Mr. Zack. I’m Kipper. I’ve been waiting tables here for a year and a half. Brenda doesn’t hire assholes, so I’m already looking forward to working with you,” she said, a twinkle in her eye.

She was a cute little thing, with rich brown hair that fell in an elegant curve around her white neck. Her eyebrows were darkened and she had lashes so thick they had to be fake. As beautiful as she was, she didn’t hold a candle to Lauren, whose image Zack couldn’t tear his eyes from just yet, even though he was probably being really rude.

Kipper laughed then too, and she and Matt chuckled together while she gave him a drink order to fill.

On her way back to the tables, she bumped Zack with her hip.

“She’ll be off at 1am, the same time as you,” she said with a wink. “Except she doesn’t date coworkers. She made that point quite some time ago,” Kipper said with a smile. “I’ll root for you, though!” She carried her tray into the crowd and tables.

Zack shook off his ridiculous moonstruck expression and finished up his drink. He put the glass on the counter, smiled sheepishly at Matt with an affirming nod, and went back to his post. He was in charge of making sure the angel on stage didn’t get any overzealous fans. He should be able to spot the stalkers and the crazies pretty easily, considering it took one to know one. Yes, he was signing up to be Lauren Beckers’ number one fan. He’d be the president of her fan club, the treasurer of the Lauren Beckers for President Fund, the gatekeeper for Midnight in the Garden of Good and Lauren Beckers. He was sunk, plain and simple, hook, line, and sinker.

It was going to be a long night, but as long as he could hear her sing, he was good.

He wondered if she’d heard about the new guy, like Matt and Kipper apparently had, or if the singers kept separate from the wait and security staff. Did she know he was out here, listening to her sweet tones like she owned radio waves? Did she have any idea what her voice did to people? Matt and Kipper knew because they’d warned him.

Zack continued carding people and double-checking large bags. He thumbed most people in without any problem, trusting his instincts about people. As long as no Mickey Cobras showed up, he was going to be okay. What he couldn’t be sure of was himself, if things got really smoky and if things got rowdy at all. His post at the door was the best possible place, because it gave his brain the illusion of security, that he could cut bait and run if he had to. Logically, he knew he was safe, but his body’s signals had gotten pretty mixed up overseas, and now he just couldn’t always tell. But he wasn’t going to court disaster. He needed this job now. It could work really well for him, and he could get the money he needed for that plane ticket. His ticket to ride.