Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
His exaggerated pout did nothing to ease my mind. “Well, that sounds boring,” he said. “What happens when I beat you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“When customers decide I’m better at this than you are. We need some prize, doncha think?”
“No, I don’t think. There is no contest, bet, competition, or whatever you want to call it. There’s only you working and me working. Some of us have bills to pay.”
I turned, giving him my back as I yanked my sweatpants down and stuffed them in my locker, leaving me in my uniform shorts. I might not look like Mr. Muscles back there, but I took care of myself and liked my body. My ass was my best feature, if I did say so myself. A few years ago, I’d gone on a tattoo spree, spending any spare change I could muster on new ink. Guys seemed to like my tattoos. Some even went nuts for them.
Did Ryder?
Nope. It didn’t matter.
Once my shoes and bowtie were on, I turned and brushed past him toward the door. “Keep up, newbie,” I said in a clipped tone. “I work fast and won’t slow down for you.”
“Pretty sure I can handle it,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mirth. Maybe I could convince Parker to make Ryder wear sunglasses so I didn’t have to see that unique green speck in his eyes while I worked all night.
I shrugged. “We’ll see.”
He snorted a laugh and followed me out the door.
I’d been here ten minutes, and I already hated this shift more than any other.
CHAPTER EIGHT
RYDER
Poor Alex. He’d need Botox before turning thirty if he didn’t learn to chill and stop furrowing his brow. Not that those little crinkles he got in his forehead weren’t adorable, they were, but most people tended to hate them on themselves, even if they found it appealing on someone else.
Trust me, my mother lived in a world of nips, tucks, and body alterations. Her yearly budget for plastic surgery, creams, and serums was higher than the GDP of most small countries. I knew more about crafting the perfect face than I ever wanted to.
Alex didn’t seem to be the Botox type. Maybe I’d gift him some for his birthday. That’d earn me an epic glare, maybe even one of those half-growls he did when he reached his limit. But then, if he did paralyze some of his facial muscles, I might not be able to tell when he was scowling at me, and wouldn’t that be a shame? The glower was epic.
Though wary, Trevor didn’t seem to hate me on sight like Alex did. Maybe he’d be willing to tell me Alex’s birthday. I probably knew it at some point, but it’d long slipped my memory.
The door to the staff room swung open, and Alex appeared. He had a light layer of sweat across his bare chest, giving him an almost glittery sheen. His face had a light pink flush to it from the hectic past two hours. It was easy to forget the sub-zero temperature outside after a few hours in the club.
“Five-minute break is over. Get your ass back out here,” Alex barked.
“On my way, boss,” I said, snapping out a quick salute. Jesus, five minutes had never flown so fast. All I’d managed to do was sit on a bench and suck down three sips of icy water. They were refreshing, but not enough. No way in hell would I ever admit it, but these first one hundred and twenty minutes kicked my ass.
We’d been back and forth from the bar to our tables at least five dozen times. Rich, drunk people were demanding as hell. Who knew? Then there was the combo skill of balancing a tray of liquid, waving a lit sparkler, shaking my ass, and hyping a table of shit-faced men that I’d never thought I’d need to master. We weren’t just alcohol servers—we were a sideshow, there to provide hours of entertainment while keeping the alcohol flowing.
And, shit, a magnum of alcohol was heavy as hell.
My feet ached, sweat ran down my ass crack, and no less than ten guys had tried to cop a feel. A good few managed it too. On a night out where I was the one planning to drink and hook up, I had no problem with wandering hands and grinding dicks, but while I was trying to learn the ropes at my new job?
Those dudes were annoying as hell.
Alex handled it all like a pro. He smiled, flirted, and dodged grabby hands from horny men with ease. I’d seen him dodge limbs like he was a slalom skier, avoiding every octopus reaching for him. If only he liked me better, maybe he’d clue me in on his secrets.
In less than five minutes, the shock of watching Alex work his tables set in. Who the hell was this man? Certainly not the prickly grouch I’d known for years. It turned out when tips were involved, Alex could crank up the charm with the best of us. He also worked hard as hell, hustling the entire shift.