Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 765(@200wpm)___ 612(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 765(@200wpm)___ 612(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
“Shouldn’t be hard,” Levi replied, raising his brows, fighting back the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Quinn nodded, turning back to the computer. Levi intently listened to a few more minutes of instruction before Quinn finished up.
“I think you can handle yourself tonight. I’ll be here to answer any questions. Want to give it a try on your own?”
All that newfound confidence slipped a notched. “Sure. I guess.”
“Then smile for me.”
Levi did as asked, pleased he’d made Quinn’s grin widen.
“There you go. You’ll do well. Now get out there and figure out the persona you wanna portray. And for God’s sake, ignore the ass pats. If they grab your dick, then you can be offended,” Quinn teased. “But, Levi, you have the clean-cut, boy-next-door look. You have innocence written all over you. You’re a challenge. You have to admit most men love that shit. Probably safe to say you’ll be making an appearance in more than a few jackoff sessions.”
Levi nodded again. He really didn’t know what to think about someone picturing him while jacking off. It was definitely creepy but also a little flattering at the same time. He could deal with it as long as they kept the details to themselves.
“Okay, go. I’m pushing you out of the nest. You take tables forty-three and forty-four. Find me if you need me.” Quinn gave him a light shove, then grabbed his own tray.
“All right.” He gave Quinn a nod, trying to remember everything they’d talked about as he turned toward the tables. He didn’t want anyone to think he was arrogant. He wasn’t. He put a smile on his face and looked up as one of the guys at the table Quinn had given him lifted his martini glass. He’d get this down. He had to.
Two hours later, his feet hurt like crazy, he fought an exhausted yawn, and he was certain that flippy hair thing he’d tried hard to achieve had totally fallen flat. Levi had cleaned his area, performed all his end-of-shift responsibilities, and took a spot at the end of the bar, closing out his tickets. Tonight hadn’t been as horrible as he’d built up in his mind. He’d stayed busy the whole shift which made the time go by quickly; he was thankful for that. A big yawn made his eyes water, causing his vision to blur momentarily as he looked over all his tickets. Quinn had been right. Not one single open credit card tab the whole night. Dealing with cash had its advantages, especially since the pocket dangling from his hip felt heavy, stuffed full of green dollar bills. Money that was all his.
“I’m impressed. You did good tonight,” Julian said, leaning against the bar facing him. Levi didn’t look up, just continued finishing out his tickets.
“I felt really stiff. It didn’t come naturally,” he said, focusing on the monitor in front of him, concentrating on touching the buttons correctly. The background music was slightly louder than the low murmur of the crowd, thankfully making it easier to think.
“You were, but it’ll ease, and Quinn was right; you pulled off that innocent thing which is hard to do. After you get that sorted, I’ll buy you a drink,” Julian offered as the ticket on the attached printer started to run. He gave himself a mental high five watching the totals appear.
“Can’t tonight. I gotta be up at six in the morning,” Levi said, ripping the paper from the printer and handing it to Julian. His two tables had logged in a little over a thousand dollars. He had no idea if that was good or bad, just that he’d worked solidly the whole night. Julian gave him a nod and offered him an outstretched fist that he readily bumped.
“Go home. We can talk later,” Julian said, tucking the tape in a bank bag as he turned to walk away.
His feet, more than anything else, needed relief. That was the reason he walked gingerly toward the back. He was the only one in the changing room, and the bright light of the fluorescent bulbs hurt his eyes as he went for his locker to pull out his clothes. He toed off his shoes, his feet singing hallelujah as he tugged on his jeans, pulling them over his hips, careful of the bag still hanging at his waist. Once completely dressed, he took the money out of his pouch. Since he was all alone, he decided to count his tips there. He’d have to get better at organizing his money. He could see mistakes happening if he didn’t keep his bills in better order.
He counted out the money and was so shocked at the total that he counted a second time. Two hundred and seventy-three dollars for only two tables and two hours’ worth of work. Oh my god. That was almost double what he made at the PT clinic today. Hell, almost triple with his hours being cut in the mornings. He’d have to wait and see what he made next time, but if he could keep this up, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. This wad of cash in his hand was worth all the pats, accidental brushings, and sexual innuendos he’d had to put up with all night.