Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
“Your hands are shaky today.” Ruth’s voice cut through my thoughts over the music. She was the best mixologist in here, so of course, she’d notice everything about the way my untrained self made shitty drinks.
“I know.” I wiped my hands on the rag hanging in front of me.
“Nervous?”
“No.” My eyes swept the entire VIP area. “I don’t know.”
“Because of you know who?” she asked, shooting me a concerned look.
“No.” I shook my head and picked up the bottle of champagne to deliver to one of the tables in VIP.
That was the thing about working a bar; the people mixing and pouring the drinks paid attention to everything. Everything. On my way to the section, I spotted Reid, the man Gabe was always accompanied by. Reid had been here all of their usual nights sans Gabe, drinking his overly expensive bourbon that I swore he only ordered to show off that he could afford it. As I walked over, I noticed that Gabe was nowhere in sight again. The smile he was directing at the woman in front of him grew when he saw me and let his eyes trail up and down my body. I held my head high as I stood in front of him.
“What’s up, Rosie?” he asked, shouting over the music.
“Work, as usual.” I smiled. “Where’s Gabriel? I haven’t seen him in a while.”
“I should be asking you that question.” His brows rose.
My smile slipped. “What do you mean?”
“He hasn’t been in the office all week. I figured maybe you knew why.” He gave a wink. I stared at him. His eyes were all shifty, the way they got after he’d just done a line. I clenched my fists at my sides.
“How would I know why?” I shouted, and it had nothing to do with the loud music. “You’re his friend!”
“Aren’t you two . . . you know.” He winked.
Of course he thought that. Because I paid extra attention to Gabe, everyone thought we were fucking. I hadn’t bothered to correct them or tell them that we’d known each other since we were kids. This was a temporary job, so I really didn’t care if they thought I was screwing the regulars. My real job, the one I had before this mess, was as a soloist dancer at the city ballet. I was on the cusp of getting a promotion to principal dancer when this went down. Besides, letting people think I was screwing Gabe was better than the reality, which was that the owner’s sleazy brother, Anthony Costello, was the last one who had the privilege and the one who was constantly sexually harassing me just because he knew he could.
“He hasn’t been in touch,” I shouted.
“Oh. Well, then he’s probably just out of town on business,” he said, leaning in closer. “Sometimes he goes out of town to visit clients and forgets to tell us.”
“Oh.” I frowned. Wouldn’t he have access to his phone, though? “Yeah, that could explain it.”
“I’ll let him know you asked about him.”
I nodded and waved as I walked back to the bar. Normally, because it was so loud and fast-paced, it was easy for me to tune out thoughts I could easily obsess over. It wasn’t working tonight. I tried to recount every single conversation I’d had with Gabriel since he started coming in here. I’d said too much. I shouldn’t have told him about Tommy’s accounts or about Dad owing him money. I definitely wished he hadn’t seen the way Anthony manhandled and groped me in the hall last week. Gabe didn’t ask about it though. He’d just offered me a sad, sympathetic smile, and that might’ve been worse than asking because, behind the smile, I saw the pity.
I had no idea what his brother was up to, but Gabe became a hot-shot accountant and was obviously rolling in money, so he probably saw me working here as a step down from the life he led. It was bullshit and unwarranted. Bartending was a demanding job, a necessary job. I hated the way people looked at us as if they were superior because it was their credit cards we were swiping. I added calling him out on his superiority complex to the list of things I was going to address when I saw him again.
“Yo, Rosie,” Ruth called out above the music. I looked over as she nodded at the dance floor. “Your lover boy is here.”
My head whipped in that direction and sure enough, Gabe was walking up the stairs. I studied him as closely as I could from a distance and the poor lighting of the club. He had a light beard he never had before that made him look rugged. It wasn’t just the beard, though. His hair was shorter and the way he walked just exuded confidence. It was unlike him. Normally, his steps were fast-paced, as if he were in a hurry to do something. This gait made heads turn in his direction and the crowd part for him to walk through. I wondered if he was high or something. He had to be, right? How else could I explain this? The thought made me fume.