That Wedding (56 page)

"Did you just do another shot? You need to stop drinking."

I shake my head. "Just trying to do my job."

Cutie Two says, "She's really good at her job." Then he grins lasciviously at me.

Cutie One says, "Yeah, but she really should have on something sexier."

Bradley is messing with my phone and the bag of rice. We all stop and watch. He puts my phone in the baggy full of uncooked rice and zips it up.

Cutie One says, "Dude, that doesn't work."

But Cutie Two disagrees, "Yeah, it does. Well, it worked for me. What happened to your phone?"

Bradley replies, "It's her phone, and I'm pretty sure it could tell the way the night is headed and tried to commit suicide." He takes the rice baggie over to the booth, drops it in my purse, and walks back behind the bar.

"Hey, maybe I should work tonight. Help you out."

Bradley looks at me. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Oh, come on. I've always wanted to wear one of the server's outfits. They're so cute! It'll be just like Halloween."

"You remember last time you spent Halloween here?"

"Uh, mostly."

"Hmmm. I clearly remember your naughty little nurse's outfit and how good it looked on my bedroom floor."

Oh my.

The cuties are rapt with attention.

I change the subject. "So, is that a yes? Can I go change?"

He laughs. "Sure, why the hell not. Ought to provide us with some entertainment."

I go in back and change into the server's outfit. Little black spandex shorts and a black and white referee shirt that's cut quite low in front and doesn't even attempt to cover my stomach. I add the tall white socks. Luckily, I wore black pumps with my dress today. I walk out and all three of them whistle. I take a tray off the bar and go wait on my friends.

"Another pitcher, boys?" I ask.

I'm even expertly holding the empty tray on one hand above my head.

They grin at my outfit.

"You should work here part-time. We'd get free beer," Moose tells me.

"I gotta get this on camera," Nick says. "Say, sexy."

They send the picture to Phillip. I'm sure he'll get a kick out of it. And my new career path.

Was I supposed to be texting him back about something?

Shoot, I forget. Oh, well.

I take their empty pitchers and put them on top of my tray, lift it above my head on one hand, and saunter back over to the bar. I refill the pitchers from the tap and put them back on the tray.

I'm a little shocked that I've had a few shots and am still functioning at peak performance levels.

I did have a big lunch though and fried rice must really be good at soaking up alcohol.

As I walk by Cutie One, heading over to deliver the beer, he decides it would be fun to smack my ass.

Which well, I may not have been prepared for because it causes me to become slightly unbalanced, and I'm afraid the full pitchers become slightly unbalanced too. And said pitchers may currently be crashing down, cascading beer on two cuties, who probably don't deserve it, but who are being soaked in beer as we speak.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry," I tell the drenched cuties as the tray falls out of my hand and clatters to the floor.

Bradley rushes around with towels and tries to dry off the cuties. He snarls at me about my lack of coordination.

"He slapped my ass!" I say, defending myself.

Bradley gets his serious half bouncer-half bartender look. "That true?"

"Uh," the boy says sheepishly.

"You deserved it then," he says as he throws the towels at them. He fills up a couple new pitchers and carries them over to my friends.

As he walks past me, he goes, "I can't blame the boy for smacking your ass. You look extremely hot." He stares into my eyes for a beat. "Tell you what, you take the orders, I'll carry the drinks."

"I like working here," I tell him when he's back behind the bar.

Whew. I'm starting to feel a little spinnyish.

Bradley hands me a tall drink over ice. "What's this?"

"Vodka and water."

I taste it. "It tastes like straight water."

"That's because it's made in Iceland. Very high quality. Very expensive, top shelf stuff."

"Oh." I take another drink. "It's good."

A group comes in and sits at the bar tops in front of the pool tables. They're already racking up a couple games when I go take their order. But by the time I get back to the bar, I can't remember it, so I say, "Two pitchers."

Bradley takes them over.

He comes back and says, "They didn't want pitchers."

"Just tell them it's happy hour, they're cheap, and I was ordering in their best interests. I want more Chinese. Bradley, do you want some?"

Cutie One says, "I want some."

"Dude," the other one says, "I want some from you too."

"But I don't have any more."

Bradley says, "I think they want, um,
some
of you."

"Oh, really? Why?"

"Cuz your hot and probably drunk enough to say yes."

"I'm not drunk. And I'm ENGAGED! Hey, this vodka is really good. I'm gonna go see if the pool guys want shots. I'm good at up-selling, and I changed my mind, Bradley. Order us some pizza from Val's."

"You're not supposed to bring food in here."

"I had hot drunken sex with you on the stairs, and you just told my friends ALL about it. I think I can do whatever I want."

"True," he grins, and the cuties are like, "Uh...dude, details."

While he tells the boys details, I suggest Jaeger shots to my new pool playing friends. I may have said they were on the house, I forget. Bradley gives me a tray of them, and since no one touches my butt, they arrive in one piece. I work my way back over to Nick, Moose, and Chaz.

"I ordered us pizza," I tell them.

"They don't serve food here," Moose informs me.

"Oh, well that's just details," I say back.

Nick gets serious. "Okay, let's talk about the burning bush."

But they have each had pretty much a pitcher apiece, plus shots, and they can't be serious.

So the talk turns to Moose's recent sexual experience.

"Nicky!" I squeal. "Stop talking about boy parts."

"You only call me Nicky when you're trying to convince me to do something you know I don't wanna do. The rest of the time, I'm Nickaloser."

"Aww, you know I don't really think you're a loser. But if it bothers you, I'll make up a new nickname for you, right now. Tonight. You're so lucky! Okay, let's see. Nicky, pricky, picky, slicky, dickey, mickey, hickey, kicky. Wow! A lot of good words rhyme with Nicky. Oh, I've got it!!!! Licky, licky, make a hickey, have a quickie with Nicky's dic....."

"Jadyn!"

"What?"

"Seriously, you can't say that."

"I can't say dickey? A dickey is just a little fake shirt you wear under another shirt. Don't be so sensitive."

"Fine. It's a great nickname, but it's probably too long."

"It's long, is it?"

"Jay!"

"What? You're the one that said it was
long
."

"I meant the name, not my, uh, part."

I consider that for a moment. "Yeah, you might be right. I don't think that would fit in my phone anyway."

"You're drunk. You get silly when you're drunk, and then you'll wanna start danc..."

"OMG!!!!! Nicky!!! I love this song!!!"

I start dancing a bit. I can't help it.

I love this song!

Oh, maybe I said that already. Sorry.

"Nicky, come dance with me."

"Shit, told ya. And I don't wanna dance."

I do a little shimmy in front of him. "I guess I could go ask Bradley."

"I'm such a pushover." He sighs, acts like he's doing me a big favor, gets out of the booth, and dances with me.

I twirl around, fist pump, do a little harmless grinding on Nicky.

"You're so lucky that I'm a good guy," Nick says.

"Why's that?"

"You're drunk."

"Not any drunker than you are. You're a good dancer when you're drunk."

Nick grabs me and pulls me in closer. "And you're very naughty when you're drunk. Bradley is totally watching you."

"Really?" I kinda gush. I turn around and look at Bradley, and he's definitely watching me, but I'm not sure why.

"Jay?"

"Yeah?"

"The song is over."

And I realize it is. New song. Not so good to dance to.

"Thanks for dancing with me, Nicky. Oh, hey, I gotta go. Bradley is waving at me."

I dance my way behind the bar. "So, Bradley, is there anything I can get you?"

Yes, I'm kinda flirting with him.

But I think it's harmless.

Just for fun flirting.

"Yeah," he says. "You can get naked."

Uh, well maybe not completely harmless.

Thankfully, a group of girls walk in. I leave Bradley to go wait on them, yummy vodka in hand. I suggest vodka to them, but they say they just want the bartender. Apparently, they've been trying to hook up with him, to no avail. And here I thought Bradley hooked up with everyone.

I go back to the bar. "Oh, Bradley, sweetie, they only want YOU to wait on them. Then I whisper, "I thought you hooked up with everyone."

"No, baby, just you. I don't have a problem with hooking up. I just don't with girls I meet on the job."

"So I was special?" I can't help but grin.

He looks at me struggling with the tray and my high heels. "Yeah, special ed."

The cuties laugh.

He works for tips though, so he goes and flirts with the girls and gives them false hopes. But the false hope will keep them here until closing time. That's a drill I know well. Although I guess in my case, he gave in and took me home with him. I feel so lucky. Like I won the bartender lottery or something.

He comes back, and I say, "You're pretty sexy when you get your flirt all on."

"Come here, I need to show you something." He drags me in the back room and pins me against the wall. "I'll be glad to show you sexy if that's what you want."

He pushes his body up against mine. It feels familiar and sexy.

It also feels all wrong.

Has Phillip ruined me?

Am I never going to be able to flirt with or get turned on by another guy again? What if he dumpssss me??!!!!!!

I'll have to become a nun!!

"Bradley, can you become a nun if you've already had lots of sex?"

"Are we back to religion again? How 'bout I get off early, you come back to my place, and I'll make you say
Oh God
over and over again."

His long eyelashes bat at me, and he's very hard to resist, for two reasons. One, I can feel that he is, in fact, hard. And two.....um, I forget what two was for. Just as he leans in, I think to kiss me, a kiss I'm going to somehow have to avoid, we hear, "Pizza's here!!!" from the cuties.

Bradley stays pinned against me for a long second. Then he shakes his head at me, throws an apron around the front of him, and walks out front.

I stay pinned against the wall.

And think.

Well, I try to think.

I love Phillip, but is loving him enough? Can I make him happy FOREVER?

Will he get sick of me? Will our relationship fester? Will I smother him?

I don't know any answers, so I go eat pizza.

Chow it.

Oh my gosh, it tastes so good. I even take a piece back behind the bar and let the girls drool while I feed pizza to Bradley. I let the cheese get all stringy and put it on his tongue.

After the pizza, I tell Bradley I'm thirsty for another shot. Bradley tells me I should do one of the special vodka shots, so I do.