IT’S SATURDAY NIGHT.
Carnival night.
The club is filled to capacity, and it’s still pretty early. The girls haven’t done their first performance yet, and I don’t often stick around after making sure everyone is present and doing what they’re supposed to. Knowing that Tweet is down here changing into one of the showgirl costumes has me planted to my seat at the bar.
Zane, Jordan, and Josh are all amped up, serving drinks in quick succession while engaging in friendly banter, their charm turned up to full capacity. There are women vying for their attention leaning up against the counter top, and the guys are reveling in it. Most of the men use our table service; they like the girls that are serving them, and it means that Zane can shamelessly flirt with their wives while they are ogling the staff. It’s a win-win.
“You want a drink, Cal?” Zane calls over the din of the room. He’s giving me a knowing smile. The one that says I know why you’re still down here. I shake my head no. The contortionist has finished his set and the twin redhead fire-eaters are making their way out to the back. Carnival night always goes down well. It’s theatrical and over the top, nothing short of dazzling. Later in the evening, Sarah will perform a solo piece dressed in her belly dancing costume and wielding a ten-foot yellow python named Monty.
I check my watch and all that’s left is for Annie to introduce the first act. Annie may be tiny, but her presence is anything but. She commands everyone’s attention the way a ringmaster would at the circus. I listen as she warms the crowd up and announces the girls on stage. I’m waiting patiently as the house lights go down; everything stills for a brief moment, the band begins the opening bars and bam! The stage floods with color as the girls file out in one long chorus line.
I notice Tweet right away, even behind all the feather fans being paraded. She’s nestled between Lauren and Rae, three girls in on the left. My eyes zero in on her like the compass of a needle, and she’s true north. I know I shouldn’t be doing this, watching and indulging in this perverse little fantasy. I can’t make myself go upstairs, though. She’s all I’ve thought about today, the way her legs felt wrapped around me on my bike. The heat of her chest pressed tightly against my back. I need to shake this new infatuation. It can’t go anywhere; I know this, so why torture myself?
“Checking up on the new girl, are we?”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes and take a drink from my almost empty glass.
“She mentioned you took her home earlier.” Zane wiggles his eyebrows and smirks.
“Zane, you know me better than that. I don’t mess around with the staff. I dropped her at her apartment; that’s it.”
“Whatever you say, but I don’t see you offering to take any of the other girls home.”
I don’t dignify him with a response. Mainly because I don’t have one. He’s right; I’ve never offered to take anyone home before today. I’m usually much better at not blurring the lines. I guess the thing about Robyn that’s bothering me the most is that I want to blur the lines with her. I want to smudge them so badly that they’re not even lines anymore.
I finish my drink, slam the glass hard on the bar and make my way upstairs. This is getting beyond a joke. I head straight for my bathroom and take a cold shower, praying it will shock some sense into me. When I get out, I flip on my music loud as a distraction. Once I’m dressed, I open up my Mac and begin going through the accounts. My bookkeeping skills are on par with my ability to not let my mind wander to the new brunette downstairs. I’m pretty sure they’re not balancing right, and I need to figure out why.
By the time I’ve spent what feels like an eternity searching for anomalies and turned up nothing, I’m beyond frustrated. I came up here to calm down, and all I’ve done is successfully wind myself up tighter. I feel like a coiled spring. The heavy bass of my music is beginning to give me a headache, and I switch it off, hoping for peace. I can still hear music drifting up from downstairs. It’s past closing, so I decide to go see what’s happening. The girls are all gone except for Annie and Tweet sitting at a table, talking animatedly. Zane’s wiping down the bar as Jordan loads the glass machine, singing along to the radio they have blasting. Zane looks up and smirks when he notices me.
“Ah, the bossman returns.”
He isn’t saying it to anyone in particular, but Annie and Tweet both look up and smile.
“Oh, that reminds me,” Robyn begins, “I didn’t get my bag from your bike when you dropped me off earlier. There’s nothing important in it, just a bunch of sweaty rehearsal gear, but I’m sure you don’t want it in there. Could I grab it before I leave?”
Annie immediately throws me a suspicious look. She’s known me for a long time, and also knows that I don’t like to let anyone near my bike.
“Sure, I’d forgotten all about it. Are you ready to leave now? I’ll go get it.”
“Yeah, thanks. I’ll come with you.” She leaps up and signals to Annie she’ll be right back. We walk in silence as she follows me out, and I can feel the others watching as we leave. Assholes.
I push open the door and step out into the cool night air. I take a deep breath; for some reason I find it harder to breathe when she’s around. I walk over to my bike to retrieve her bag when she slips, her legs disappearing from under her and kicking me hard in the ankle as she goes down.
“Shit! Are you alright?” I ask, rubbing the spot she kicked and offering her my hand.
“Well, that wasn’t embarrassing!” She laughs. “I’m not even drunk.”
“It’s slippery out here when it rains. You sure you’re okay?” I pull her up, and now we’re face-to-face and far too close for comfort. The air around us feels charged. Neither of us is speaking, just staring at each other. It’s intense, and I don’t know what I’m expecting to happen right this second, but I feel like I should maybe warn her about maintaining a good working relationship. What I really want to say is that if she doesn’t look away right now and break this spell, I can’t be held responsible for my actions. A man only has so much willpower.
She’s looking at me flustered and blushing. My head’s clouding, and now I can’t think of a good enough reason not to lean in and kiss her anymore.
The thunder of my pulse is vibrating in my ears, and everything somehow slows. I lean forward only a fraction, testing the waters, looking for a sign that maybe I’ve got this wrong, and she’s not attracted to me. She doesn’t move; I’ll take that as a good sign. My eyes fall to her lips as the tip of her tongue quickly darts out and wets them. Another good sign. I’m giving her plenty of time to move away and she’s standing fast. My resolve shatters and I give way to what I want over what is sensible, moving forward until my face is even closer. Her breath hitches and I’m sure mine’s stopped altogether…we’re so close—then suddenly, we’re not.
Annie barrels through the door, killing the moment, and we jump back like two kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. I should be thankful that she interrupted us, relieved that she’s saved me from making a mistake and breaking my own rules. But I’m not. In truth, I’m cursing her shitty timing.
“You ready to go, Robyn? I’ll give you a ride.”
“Sure, yeah…um, night Callum.”
I don’t have the chance to say good night back, she practically bolts back through the club and away from me. I’m left wondering what would have happened if Annie hadn’t disturbed us. Would she have let me kiss her? I look down and notice that her bag is still here, and even though I’m fully aware that it’s a terrible fucking idea, I still decide to get on my bike and deliver it to her.