19. Lucien
LUCIEN
I should have known the night was going to shit when Marlow called out twenty minutes before his shift.
The Rot is already filling up, and the line outside curls halfway around the building.
I stand behind the bar with my phone pressed between my ear and shoulder while I pour three drinks at once.
My tail grabs a bottle of whiskey from the shelf behind me as I listen to Marlow explain how he’s been throwing up for the last six hours.
“Stay home,” I say. “And if you come in here and infect my entire staff, I’ll personally drag you to the demon realm torture chambers.”
I hang up before he can apologize again. Marlow can’t help being sick. Unfortunately, that doesn’t make a bartender magically appear in front of me.
Tammy slides behind the bar and grabs a stack of glasses. “What do you need?”
“Another bartender.”
She rolls her eyes and starts taking orders from the other end while I scan the room.
The Rot runs beautifully most nights because I’ve spent decades making sure it does.
I know exactly how many people I need on the floor, behind the bars, at the doors, and working the private rooms. I know how much blood to keep chilled and which liquors disappear fastest, depending on the crowd.
Tonight, apparently, the universe has decided to test all of that at once.
Ryan appears at the end of the bar. “The blood delivery is wrong.”
I stop pouring. “What?”
“They sent half of what you ordered.”
“Of course they did.” I finish the drink in my hand and slide it across the bar. “Did you call them?”
“They’re sending the rest, but it’ll be at least two hours.”
Lars glances toward the refrigerator. “We’re gonna run out before then.”
“No, we aren’t.” I refuse to run out of anything. Ever.
I pull out my phone to call another supplier when someone taps my shoulder. Cass, one of my servers, gives me an apologetic smile. “The register by the east bar froze.”
I close my eyes. One problem at a time. The bar comes first. The blood comes second. The register can be fixed. Probably. If not, I’ll rip it from the counter and throw it into the fucking Ohio River.
“Lucien?”
I open my eyes at the sound of Sparkle’s voice.
My pretty kitty stands on the other side of the bar wearing a pretty purple lacey top, his jingle bell collar, and an expression I can’t tell if it’s amusement or concern. His ears swivel beneath the pounding music as he looks from me to Ryan, then to the crowd waiting for drinks.
I stare at him long enough that Ryan elbows me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
Sparkle’s brows shoot up. “Wow. Hello to you too.”
“No, no. I mean...” I wipe my hands on a towel and move toward him. “Hello, darling. You look beautiful. Why are you here?”
His tail flicks behind him. “I wanted to see you.”
Oh. Every problem in my club disappears for three glorious seconds and the world stops spinning. “You wanted to see me?”
Sparkle rolls his eyes, but that gorgeous pink creeps into his cheeks. “Don’t make it weird.”
Ryan snorts loudly behind me.
Sparkle looks around again. “You’re working the bar?”
“One of my bartenders called out.”
Something crashes across the room. I wince. Sparkle slowly looks toward the sound before turning back to me.
“Everything is under control.”
Lars walks past carrying a case of blood. “Liar.”
Sparkle leans his arms against the bar. “Where’s your manager?”
“You’re looking at him.” I thumb towards my chest.
His ears twitch. Sparkle stares at me like I’ve said something particularly ridiculous. “You own this entire place, manage it, and right now you’re bartending?”
“I’m multi-talented.”
Another customer waves for my attention. I hold up a finger to Sparkle, take the order, make the drink, collect payment, then come right back. He hasn’t moved.
“I was hoping we could hang out,” he says, shoulders dropping. “But you’re really busy.”
“I can make time.”
“No, you can’t.” Sparkle gestures around us. “You have, like, thirty people waiting for drinks.”
“I can multitask.”
He glances toward the opening at the end of the bar. “Can I come back there?”
I blink. “Why?”
“Because I’m a bartender and you need help.”
“You came here to see me, not work.”
“I know.” Sparkle slips through the opening before I can stop him. “But I’m not going to sit around watching you drown when I can help.”
“I’m not drowning.”
Ryan passes behind me. “He’s drowning.”
I glare at him.
Sparkle ties on one of the spare aprons and steps up beside me. “What’s your setup?”
“You seriously don’t have to do this.”
“I want to.”
Something about that shuts me up. Sparkle studies the bottles, taps through the register, checks the garnishes, then asks Lars two questions about our specialty drinks. Less than five minutes later, he takes his first order. And then another. And another. Fuck me. He’s good.
I knew he bartended at Flutter and Fangs, but knowing it and watching him work are two entirely different things.
Sparkle doesn’t hesitate. He’s fluid and confident, his tail swaying behind him while his hands never stop.
He smiles at customers, remembers orders shouted at him through the music, and somehow makes everyone feel like they have his complete attention.
I nearly overfill a glass because I’m staring.
“Lucien.” Sparkle snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Drink.”
“Right.”
He smirks and turns back to his customer. I’m fucked.
With Sparkle behind the bar, the line finally starts shrinking. Ryan brings me an update on the blood delivery, and I tell him to start limiting the rarest types until the shipment arrives.
Sparkle overhears us. “How much do you have left?”
“Enough if people spread out what they order,” I say.
He glances at the menu above the bar. “Then why don’t you discount the blood drinks you have plenty of?
” Sparkle grabs a bottle and pours without looking at me.
“You said the problem is everyone ordering the same types, right? Put two drinks with the blood you have the most of on special. Make them a couple bucks cheaper. People will order those instead.”
“That’s a good idea.” Why the hell didn’t I think of that?
Sparkle studies my face before his ears rise again. “Can you change the menu board?”
“With a snap of my fingers.”
“Then snap away, demon.”
I do, changing the board with a flick of magic.
Within minutes, the specials start selling.
By the time the replacement blood arrives, we still have enough of the original shipment that I could kiss Sparkle.
I want to kiss Sparkle anyway, but that’s unrelated.
The register at the east bar becomes the next problem.
I start toward it, but Sparkle catches my arm.
“Where are you going?”
“Register.” I wave to the offending piece of equipment.
“Cass already moved everyone to the other register. Fix it tomorrow.”
I open my mouth. Nothing comes out.
Sparkle pats my cheek. “Good demon.”
He walks away and I stare after him.
Lars appears beside me. “I like him.”
For the next two hours, Sparkle somehow becomes part bartender, part problem solver, and part adorable little dictator.
Cass gets snippy with a customer, and Sparkle asks when she last took a break.
Apparently, the answer is long enough ago that he sends her away with a snack and orders another server to cover her tables.
Then he realizes Tammy is getting her ass kicked while Jessa has barely any tables, so he moves half the section around.
When one of the dancers complains about not having enough time between sets, Sparkle starts asking questions about how we schedule them at The Rot versus Flutter and Fangs.
I don’t know when I lost control of my own club, but apparently I work for the kitty cat now.
He never asks me if he’s allowed. He just fixes things.
The best part is that every decision makes sense.
Eventually, the club settles. The crowd becomes manageable, the blood delivery arrives, and everyone gets back into their normal rhythm.
Sparkle leans against the back counter and takes a long drink of water.
I stand beside him. “You managed my club.”
His eyes widen. “I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
He frowns down at his glass. I recognize that look. The one from the grocery store when he told me no one thinks Sparkle is smart.
“You’re very good at this.”
“I work at a club.”
“That isn’t what I mean.” I turn toward him and lower my voice. “You saw what needed to happen and made it happen. Everyone listened to you.”
His tail curls around his leg. “I’m used to keeping things running.”
There it is. All those years helping his mother. Cooking. Cleaning. Deliveries. Kittens. Working. Sparkle has been managing chaos most of his life. He just never had a title for it.
“Darlin’, I think you might be a thinky person.”
His head snaps toward me. “Don’t make fun of me.”
Fuck. I meant it playfully, but that question is already in his eyes, like he’s waiting for the punch line. I lean closer. “You told me no one comes to you for ideas. Maybe they fucking should. You’re so much smarter than you give yourself credit for.”
Sparkle goes pink and finishes his water. “Is everything okay now?”
I look around. Lars has the main bar under control. Cass is talking to one of the security guards near the entrance. The dancers are on schedule. The blood refrigerators are full again.
“Yeah.”
“Good.” Sparkle grabs my hand.
I look down at our joined fingers. “What are you doing?”
“Stealing the owner for a bit.”
Before I can respond, he pulls me toward the stairs leading to my office. I follow willingly, enjoying the view until we reach the second floor. Sparkle opens my office door and walks inside like he belongs here. I think he does. I close the door behind us, muffling the music downstairs.
He turns toward me. “You look exhausted.”
“I’ve had a long night.”
“You know what’s funny?”
“What?”
Sparkle steps closer and pokes me in the chest. “You spent all that time telling me that I need to let people help me.”