Seven - River
Day number two of my manager job at Dead End finds me back at the front door admitting patrons into the bar—AKA my favorite place to be.
When I was fifteen—yeah, fifteen, I know. Probably way too young to be hanging around a bar, but I had good reason. I begged Booker to give me a job. I was desperate to make money and support myself since my mom could barely do that on a good day. Plus, I needed something to take my mind off all the awful shit happening around me. I needed a purpose, and this right here gave me just that.
On the first day on the job, he sat me here and explained what I needed to do. Check IDs, stamp hands, and turn people away when I have to. He was my saving grace. The only adult to look at me and see a responsible girl looking to make a better life for herself.
Nestled on my bar stool with my tiny podium in front of me, I watch the crazy line stretching out the door and onto the sidewalk. Again. Seriously, it has to be a mile long by now. It’s the longest line I’ve ever seen coming into this place. And I fucking did it! I brought these people here. Well, okay. Sorcha’s band brought them here to my venue. My hard work made this happen, and I can’t wait for Booker to see all the success I’m bringing to Dead End.
Soft murmurs and excited whoops permeate the air, and the growing crowd surrounds our meager stage with such excitement; my fucking heart skips a beat. Packed shoulder to shoulder with their arms touching and their heads leaning back as the lights on stage dim low, leaving us all in the dark. For only a moment, at least.
A sudden cheer erupts through the crowd, their arms bursting into the air. They jump up and down as the band makes their way across the stage, taking their places in the pitch-black atmosphere. Their shoe scuffs, and their heels click against the wooden set. And all hell breaks loose when the bright lights flash. Her crazy red curls bounce when she bobs her head, looking back at the three other women playing with her. She grins, turning her pearly whites toward the crowd.
“Hello, Central City! Glad to be here! Let’s wake the damn dead!” she screams into the microphone before gracefully singing the first notes of their opening song.
Pure ecstasy saturates my soul in waves. The weight of the world momentarily lifts from my shoulders. All the stress. All the pain. Everything I’ve endured in my brief life leaves me like a bird in flight, hopefully never to return. One day I’ll live without this hovering above me, but for now, I’ll revel in the music carrying me away. My eyes close on their own, my body swaying to the beat of the heavy drums leading up to the song’s chorus. She screeches her words, hyping everyone in the crowd up.
Taking a deep, refreshing breath, I bathe in the atmosphere. This is why I’m here. This is why I do what I do for this place and bring these bands in. They’re like sage to the soul; I’d never have it any other way.
Life flashes before me again, and I bring myself back out of the clouds with a renewed sense of determination. Whatever I plan to do with my life after I get my degree in business, I want it to involve music. Maybe that comes from my dad, or perhaps that comes from my dependency on tunes. Whatever it is, I’m determined to make my dreams come true. No matter what I have to do. I’ll leave this town behind with one finger raised in the air and a degree in the other hand.
“Ahem! Bitch,” a familiar woman’s voice snaps me out of my reprieve.
Right. This must be my torture for the evening. Peering up, I put on my polite face and smile at Tessa. Her ice-blue eyes again glare at me, scoffing and tossing her perfect blonde locks over her shoulder.
“I’m sorry?” I ask, raising a brow at the girl standing before me with her hip cocked out in her short as hell skirt. If she swishes, I think her perfectly sculpted butt cheeks would pop out and show the world what she’s got cooking under her hood.
“I need a stamp; here’s my cover charge,” she hisses loud enough for me to hear the venom in her words, practically shoving the money at me. Her eyes dart around the room, and she strains her neck to look over the bobbing crowd.
“Have you seen them?” She shouts over the music to her friend standing behind her when I stamp her hand, and she moves aside.
“No,” Sara giggles, shoving fifteen dollars into my hand, a little nicer than her friend.
“Ugh. Their FlashGram said they’d be here hanging out tonight. It’s my one chance. They won’t be onstage for once,” she murmurs, grabbing her friend’s hand, and tries to take off into the sea of people.
“Central Trash,” her friend says, tilting her head when I wrinkle my nose at the name.
“I have a name,” I state with a tight expression, narrowing my eyes at her. Running a finger along my boob, I show the name printed on my shirt for good measure. “I’m River. The manager.” I, once again, run a finger over the word manager etched into my tit, earning me a haughty scoff.
Three years ago, they graduated from high school, yet they act like we’re still roaming the halls together. This is their ridiculous way of putting me in my place and showing me I’m nothing more than a Central girl, which is laughable. To them, I’m firmly under their fucking sharp heels, ready for them to squish me to pieces.
“Have you seen them yet?” Her friend curses, trying to pull her along, muttering under her breath.
“Who?” I ask, waving the next person forward.
I take their money and stamp their hand, repeating the process with the following people, and check IDs along the way. At least fifty people, okay, that’s an exaggeration, come through the door before these two make up their minds. When I look back at the doorway, it’s practically empty, and the line has died down. Thank God. It’ll give me a second to finally breathe.
“Whispered Words,” the girl snarks, leaning forward.
“God, Sara!” Tessa mutters, stomping her foot.
“What, Tessa? She sees everyone who comes through the doors. It’s her job,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. “So, she’d know if they were here. They just played a few days ago!” Tessa nods, staring at me for confirmation.
A deep heat invades my cheeks and ears, remembering precisely what Kieran and I got up to earlier. His fingers were inside me and swirling over my clit while my ex-boyfriend browsed the shop, none the wiser. Rad promised Kieran would deliver the best orgasm of my life, and he did. He really fucking did. I want a repeat, spend a day getting lost in his dick, pretending the outside world doesn’t exist, and enjoy the man he is now because I’ve obviously broken my vow about swearing off him. So, why not have some fun?
“No,” I state with a shrug, keeping my voice as even as possible. There’s no way in hell I’d admit to these two groupies. That has to be what they are, if I have seen them or not.
“See,” Tessa scoffs, rolling her eyes again. “We’ll find them ourselves. Thanks for nothing, Central Slut,” she hisses, dragging her friend into the crowd of people, losing themselves to the loud metal music flowing through the speakers.
“Enjoy the show,” I mutter, discreetly lifting my middle finger to their backs.
Who are they going to tell on me, too, anyway? I’m the damn boss right now. I should tell them to shove their judgmental names where the sun doesn’t shine, but I like to think I’m a little more professional than that. Well—I cringe, lowering my finger—sometimes I’m professional. I can only handle the whole Central whore/slut, name-calling for so long before I blow a gasket and give them what they deserve.
“Well, hello, Pretty Girl,” Rad sings above the music, throwing his arms all around. If he wanted to stay small and away from the two groupies asking about them, he’s failing miserably by announcing his damn presence. I sneak a peek at the two girls in question and grin when they’re caught up in the crowd and unable to make it over. Too bad, so sad for them. Such a shame.
“Well, hello, drummer boy,” I singsong back, cocking my head to the side at the sight of him.
God damn. My momma said don’t fuck with rock stars, but it’s so hard when they look this delectable and lickable. Seriously! Rad’s sporting tight jeans, leaving not-so-little Rad’s outline on display. Like holy eggplant in the pants, Batman. I swallow hard, my gaze making it up to his exposed arms coming out of his sleeveless tank, giving me a peek of the tattoo expanding over his chest and into his throat. And finally, his ridiculous curly mullet is perfectly styled, not a curl out of place. But the icing on the cake tonight is the septum piercing glowing in the dark space. His pearly whites pop out when he grins at me again, catching the moment my eyes roamed downwards.
He snorts, leans against my little podium, and grins like a madman. “I don’t know if I’ve properly introduced myself to you yet,” he murmurs, reaching for the stamp in my hand, stamping Callum’s and his hand. “Although drummer boy is pretty hot coming from your lips, I’m…”
“Ashton Radcliffe the Third,” Asher says in a mimicking tone, strolling through the front door with a smirk plastered on his lips. Leaning against Rad, he places his elbow on his shoulder.
“It’s Rad,” he hisses, a soft red blooming across his cheeks, reaching to the tips of his burning ears. “I’m Rad, definitely not Ashton,” he says, shaking his head and curling his lip. He looks back at me with pleading dark eyes and points. “It’s Rad, not Ashton,” he argues again, leaning down onto the podium and putting the stamp back into my fingers.
My heart falls when I stare into his sparkling, dark eyes. Although I’m in no particular mood to relive the night, he saved me from the shadows and took me to the hospital. It’s disheartening to hear he doesn’t know who I am. I mean, I don’t blame them for not recognizing me from high school. So many students from the surrounding area squished into one building that it’d be hard to keep track of everyone. But to look me in the eye and not remember? I shake my head. Maybe he’s like me. That night was horrific; if I had come across that sight, I’d have blocked it out, too.
“Okay, definitely not Ashton, who I went to high school with and have talked to before. You’ve been stamped. Now pay up,” I say, holding my free hand out. “It’s a fifteen-dollar cover charge per person.”
“It’s Rad, for fuck’s sake,” he grumbles to himself, reaching into the depths of his back pocket. “And wait,” he says, holding up a finger. “We went to school together?” His brows furrow when he steps around the podium, taking in my short shorts and a tight black T-shirt. “I’d definitely remember you.” He rubs his chin, eyeing me with a hunger that makes my stomach knot.
Fuck. If he doesn’t stop staring at me like that, I’ll invite him into the back room and rock his world with Kieran. No one says I can’t have more. Besides, If I’m breaking my vow, I’m going all in.
“There’s only one fucking high school in this mediocre town,” Asher huffs out, rolling his eyes at our antics like the douchebag he is. I wonder if he ever lightens up or if he’s a perpetual grumpy pants?
Sometimes I think that man needs to get laid or yank the giant stick out of his ass. Even in high school, I remember him being a colossal douche to everyone, and he still hasn’t changed. Girls used to chase him as a challenge, and he’d wave them off with a scowl, telling them to fuck off. Maybe Tessa and Sara can rock his world and ease the assholishness out of him, or perhaps he can eat eggs and fuck off. Because I’m not touching him with a twenty-foot pole unless he’s nicer. Like buying me lots of diamonds, nicer.
“Although Ashton doesn’t sound too bad coming from your mouth. I can see how this relationship is going to go,” Rad rambles, disregarding Asher’s answer with a grin. Pulling out three twenties and depositing them into my free hand, he wiggles his brows.
“I’m Callum-Callum,” Callum says, brushing his blond curly, shaggy locks from his gray eyes.
A deep blush rises on his cheeks, and he quickly looks away with a bashful smile and moves into the room, wringing his hands together. Looking back, he smiles again, and his blush deepens further. Only this time, he looks me in the eye and gives me a shaky wave, like it took everything inside him to make that connection. With a wink and a wave, I successfully make him blush so hard he resembles a tomato.
“This is so fucking unnecessary,” Asher grumbles, running a hand down his twisted face. But again, no one pays attention to him. They simply smile at me with goo-goo eyes and continue their weird introductions.
“That’s great,” I say with sarcasm, looking behind them.
I wave a hand, motioning the other two idiots forward as Callum and Rad look off into the rowdy crowd. Rad, of course, grins at Callum, muttering something into his ear and gesturing toward the sea of people.
Kieran steps forward with his face tipped down and his mismatched eyes locked on me. His Adam’s apple bobs when he finally stops in front of my podium and pulls his hands from his pockets. When he finally lifts his chin, my heart stops at the desperation swimming in the depths of his mesmerizing eyes. They bore into me, and I feel him in my clenching core, begging me to finish what we had started earlier. But correctly this time, and balls deep.
Shit. I need therapy and dickaholics anonymous or something to keep me away from him. At this point, I don’t think I’ll be able to deny him any longer, and I’ll give into his every whim. Would that be so bad?
Heat spreads throughout my entire body, and I flush. Starting at the tip of my ears, working down my neck, and onto my chest. The idiot smirks, knowing precisely what’s going through my damn brain. The tips of his fingertips brush against my hand when I stamp it.
Ash growls with annoyance, pushing Kieran out of the way. He grabs the stamp from me, like the asshole he seems to be, and stamps his hand with greater force than necessary. He throws it back at me, tossing his arms in the air at Kieran, and takes off toward an empty booth by himself, pouting the entire way.
“What crawled up his ass?” I mutter, fiddling with the stamp to keep my hands busy.
Rad smirks, watching the entire exchange with his back turned toward the crowd. He saunters over, lazily looking around, and finally stops beside me.
“That’s Asher,” Rad says, getting into my bubble.
Again.
You’d think he didn’t witness his friend’s balls getting threatened several hours earlier. But yet, here we are again. Maybe he has issues with stepping into people’s bubbles? His breath passes across my neck, making me squirm in my seat when his fingers work up my sides, squeezing me. Surprisingly, his touch sends pleasant tingles all over my body.
I’m about to remind him what happens to men who can’t keep their fingers to themselves.
“Just Ash,” Asher barks out of nowhere, folding his arms across his chiseled chest. He snarls at each of them and finally settles his evil-looking eyes on me. I swear he’s possessed by a demon or something.
“The power of Christ compels you,” I murmur under my breath, flinging fake holy water in his direction.
“Did you just?” Rad murmurs through sputtering laughter, doubling over until he’s a wheezing mess and wiping tears from his eyes.
Asher cocks his head, etching a deep scowl on his face like it might permanently stay there. Shaking his head, he glares at Rad, who practically rolls on the floor, howling over the music. “We came for the band and the drinks,” he barks out, nodding his head toward the busy bar surrounded by people waiting for their drinks. “And to see you,” he grits out like it fucking hurts to say.
I crack a smile. “To see little old me?” I ask, cocking my head to the side playfully. He scoffs, flapping his arms around, and stomps off again.
“See you later, River,” Kieran mutters, a slight tilt lifting the edges of his lips like he knows something I don’t. “I’ll be kneeling for you,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “I’ll see you after your shift. Don’t be late.” And with that sentiment, he struts off without a backward glance.
I shiver at the thought, picturing him kneeling for me later. His words come back to me, replaying repeatedly. He’ll be waiting for me tonight, after my shift, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
And maybe I don’t want to.