17. 17 Gigi
17
17 GIGI
LOVEFOOL
“You’re gonna wipe the polish right off the wood.”
I glared at Dante, who’d ditched his stained apron for a Heathcliff’s t-shirt, sleeves rolled up to showcase his biceps. “Mind your business, Mister Muscles.”
In my periphery, I caught his posture straightening. I didn’t have to look at his face to know I’d missed the mark with my insult. “I like that,” he said. “Can I get that on my name tag?”
Despite my annoyance, I snorted. “Sure, why not?” Tossing the towel I’d been wiping the bar with in its bucket below, I brushed my hands on my jeans. “Tell you what, you make it through your first Saturday night solo shift behind the bar, I’ll even get you a shirt that says it on the back.”
“Hells yeah.” He brushed his shoulder and smirked. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
“Language,” I chided, full-on grinning at him now. “You’ve got a baby on the way.”
“My bad, my bad.” Tossing a towel over his shoulder, he nodded. “For serious, though.” He looked me up and down, all-business. “I’m gonna get that shirt.” Then, without missing a beat, he turned to greet the next group of customers walking up to the bar.
I folded my arms over my chest and leaned against the counter, watching as he did his thing. He’d caught on quick, to the surprise of no one. Years of working at this place had ingrained the drinks in his mind, and he barely needed to glance at the recipe cards we kept under the bar. Hell, I still needed a peek every now and then.
And his people skills? Fuck, the dude could talk a giraffe into a Mini Cooper. A week into his training, and our specialty drink sales were already up. I could only imagine what those numbers would look like once he was on his own.
Pride warmed me as I watched Dante schmooze the group of wine moms decked out in their ’90s finest. This was his first Patti Mayonnaise show on this side of the bar. Kai’s first one running the kitchen alongside Artie. Tonight, I was on hover-duty. The plan was to hover between the bar and the kitchen, pitching in where I was needed. It was the first real test for both my bebes.
I had a good feeling about it.
The good feeling turned to acid in my stomach the moment my eyes snagged on two figures standing near the foot of the stage. In the dim light, I could make out Halle’s hand on Parker’s shoulder, and Parker’s glimmering smile as she laughed at something Halle said.
It was good, I told myself. Perfect, even. Job well done. I’d done what I set out to do. What Parker had asked me to do. If their body language was anything to go by, the two women were well on their way to a first date.
Good. Great. A first date.
Nodding to myself, I reached for the napkin dispenser and popped it open. Forcing my eyes away from the laughing women, I ripped open a package of napkins and stuffed them into the dispenser.
Once the moms had their drinks in hand and were headed for their seats, Dante turned back toward me. “So,” he said, dark eyes assessing. “You gonna tell me what the stank face is about?”
“What are you talking about?” I slammed the dispenser shut and set it back in its place. “My face is perfectly fine. Not stank at all. It’s…fragrant, even.”
“Uh huh.” He looked me over, disbelief blatant on his face. “If you stared at your girl any harder, she—”
“Whose girl?” I cut in, turning my back to the bustling bar. “I don’t have a girl.”
“Uh huh.” He reached under the bar and pulled out a water bottle. After taking a long swig, he faced me again. “You really okay with what’s going on over there?”
I cast a quick glance over my shoulder. Halle was leaning in now, saying something close to Parker’s ear. As if I’d traded places with her, my next breath was filled with Parker’s scent. Cookie dough and strawberry shampoo. Something lurched beneath my ribs and I tore my eyes away.
“I’m fine.” I grabbed the dishtowel from the bucket under the bar and wrung it out with more force than necessary. “It’s fine.”
“There you go, scrubbing the polish off the bar again.”
“All right, you know what?” I threw the rag back into its bucket. “I’ve had about enough of your smartassery.”
Dante grinned one of those grins that would be cocky, except Dante was never cocky. He was just right.
“Fuck off,” I growled, pushing around him. “I’m gonna go check on the kid.”
Dante’s laughter followed behind me as I headed for the kitchen. And far, far away from whatever was going on with Halle and Parker.
The night was in full swing. Patti Mayonnaise had kicked off their show, and music pulsated through the space. Through my body.
Every time I came up front to help Dante with the bar, I very intentionally kept my eyes ahead, never letting them veer toward the stage. The band had restructured their usual setlist to accommodate their lack of a female lead singer. They sounded great, but with each song they left off the set, every compromise they made in arrangements for Ryan’s vocals, sat like an anchor in my chest.
It could’ve been me.
If only I’d said yes.
But, if anything had shown me that I’d made the right call by turning them down, it was this night.
While Dante and Kai were holding it down in their respective duties, they still needed an assist. Even our waitresses, who were pros at this point, needed help delivering drinks and food to patrons’ tables. It was a madhouse.
The harsh reality was: Heathcliff’s was a success. Long gone from the trickling business it was when I’d first come home. Now, there was hardly a slow night. Sometimes Wednesdays, but even then, we had our D&D campaigns before we officially opened.
So, yeah. The harsh, amazing reality was: Heathcliff’s needed me.
I wasn’t going anywhere.
Jogging back to the front, I greeted a handful of customers that had swarmed the bar. “Oh, my god,” I said, to the gorgeous Black woman dressed in crushed velvet as she approached. “I love your outfit!”
She smiled, wide and bright, eyes lighting on mine. “Oh, my god. Thank you!” she said, her dark eyes lingering on the low cut of my top. I knew what was coming before her gaze returned to my face. “Can I get a Sex on the Beach?” she asked, then bit her lip before adding, “And…your number?”
“I—” My reply died on my lips as a movement behind her shoulder caught my eye. Parker and Anya had returned from their dinner date and were weaving their way through the crowd to make their way upstairs. “Sorry, coming right up,” I finished with a half-smile at the pretty woman in front of me.
Turning away from the bar to grab the bottle of vodka for her drink, I gave myself a mental shake. Get your shit together, Georgia, I thought. Give the hot woman your number.
But the moment I turned around, I caught a glimpse Parker in the crowd. She and Anya had squeezed into a two-top in the middle of the bar, where both faced forward, watching the band play.
Watching Halle play.
My mouth went dry.
“You good?”
I started, nearly dropping the vodka. “Shit, dude,” I growled at Dante, who’d sidled up next to me. “You startled me.”
“I startled you,” he repeated, brows lifted, “in a loud-ass bar filled with people and a live band.”
“Shut up.” I turned away from him, ignoring his chuckle. “Sorry about that,” I said to the woman, who was still smiling coyly. “One Sex on the Beach, coming right up.”
She leaned against the bar, pushing a gorgeous set of breasts together. “What about the other?”
I let myself look her over, from her pink-glossed lips to her decadent cleavage. Then, I spared one last glance over her shoulder to where Parker watched the band, rapt.
Just do it, I thought, fingers hovering over the clicking end of my pen. Parker’s not into you. Time to move on.
But even as I thought it, Parker’s voice echoed in my mind. You want me. And, fuck. I couldn’t do it.
Giving the woman my most apologetic smile, I said, “Sorry. I’m not dating right now.”
A smile tilted her lips as she took her drink. “Let me know if that changes,” she replied with a lingering look before she vanished into the crowd. I spared one more glance at Parker, kicking myself for being such a hopeless dumbass. Then, I turned to the next customer in line.
“Hey, there,” I said. “What can I get for you?”
And so it went.
About an hour later, once Patti Mayonnaise had finished their set and things had stabilized a bit, I tapped Dante on the shoulder.
“Hey,” I said. “I’m gonna take a quick break. Hydrate and pee and whatnot. You gonna be okay?”
Dante waved me away. “Get out of here, girl. I got this.”
I paused and took inventory before I stepped away. He did, indeed, seem to have it. Slowly, I nodded. “’Kay. I’ll be right back.”
I made a beeline for the bathroom and, when I finished, headed toward the office for a couple minutes of quiet before jumping back into the mix. I was intercepted, however, by the very source of my distraction all night.
“Hey.” Parker fell into step beside me. “Busy night.”
I glanced over. Her cheeks were flushed pink and she’d pulled her hair into a messy topknot. The sweater she’d been wearing earlier was gone, the plain black tank top she’d had beneath it a sharp contrast to her creamy skin.
My fingertips tingled with recollection of how soft that skin was.
Clearing my throat, I nodded. “Just the way we like it.” I paused at the employees-only door. “Sorry, I’m just about to…”
“Oh.” She shook her head. “Sorry, yeah. Sure. I don’t mean to interrupt. I…” Pushing her hands into the pockets of her jeans, she rocked back on her heels. “I need a favor.”
“Um.” I looked from her to the door I still had my hand on. Tell her you can talk about it later, my mind directed. Tell her you’re busy.
But when I looked at her again, her wide blue eyes frantic on my face, my insides softened and I caved. “What’s up?”