Chapter 13
Mila
He kissed me.
Not Mila from the Cockpit.
Not Mila in the wig.
Mila Mila.
Plain, hired to be his maid and stay out of his way, Mila.
It was real. I’ve pinched myself multiple times and even bit my tongue accidentally while eating a sandwich on the way to the Cockpit just to be sure. It happened. I just can’t figure out why.
As far as I can tell, I’m nothing more than a pain in the butt to Dominic.
His house has never been cleaner and his food has never been better, but I’m pretty sure my back-talk doesn’t help my cause.
I’ve never been one to hold my tongue when I feel I’ve been treated unjustly.
Besides, he’s the one who walks around acting like I’m not there unless his coffee isn’t ready or he wants the aftermath of one of his tantrums cleaned up.
It makes all of this even more confusing.
After my makeup is done, and my hair is in place, I head behind the bar. I’m working second shift tonight, the closing shift, and we are slammed. It’s so busy that even Lainey is making drinks. Not that she can’t, but Lainey is usually only on the floor.
“Watch out for the guy at the end of the bar,” she says while loading a tray with domestic beer bottles.
“He grabbed my ass the last two times I walked past him. I asked him what his problem was, and he said he’s just looking for a little sugar.
I’d like to give him a little something else, but it ain’t gonna be sweet if you know what I’m saying,” she says with a small laugh as she pops off all the bottle caps.
“Right,” I say almost robotically as I grab the next drink ticket.
“Did you hear what I said?” she asks.
“He grabbed your ass,” I say. “Men are jerks.”
“What’s going on with you? You’ve been a thousand miles away since you got here,” she says.
“Hey sweetheart, the beer can’t drink itself!” a guy calls from one of the tables, and Lainey rolls her eyes.
“I’ll be back, and I expect answers,” she tells me before walking off. She turns to the guy at the end of the bar as she passes him. “Don’t even think about it, buddy,” she snaps.
It’s not that I don’t want to talk to Lainey about what happened. I just don’t know what to say. I don’t even know what to think. And knowing Lainey, she’s going to freak out.
After she delivers the drinks, she walks back behind the bar to make a bunch of mimosas for a bachelorette party.
It looks like they’ve been barhopping. This must be a good four or five stops into their night because most of the time groups of girls don’t stop in here.
At least different flavored mimosas will buy me more time.
“Alright, spill it,” she says as she lines the tray with glasses and reaches for a bottle of prosecco. “What’s got you so distracted today?”
“He kissed me,” I say as I pass off two whiskey sours to one of the waitresses.
“Who kissed you?” she asks.
I answer her by giving her a look, but Lainey isn’t following. She follows up by raising her eyebrows, and I mouth the word, Dominic.
“Who?” she mouths back.
“Dominic. Dom.”
“What?”
“My. Boss.” I enunciate the words, and finally it clicks.
“Oh!” she says loudly enough that the people sitting in front of her at the bar look up. “He kissed you?!”
No one seems to care what we are talking about, but I still don’t want it spread all over the bar just in case.
“Okay. Now you really do need to explain. When?” she asks.
“Today,” I answer, reaching for another ticket.
“Where?” she presses.
“At the house. While I was working,” I answer.
“Did he recognize you? From here? Or the ring?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so? I’m still trying to figure it out myself.”
“I’m going to deliver these drinks to the cast of Bridesmaids over there, and then I need to know everything that happened,” Lainey says.
Of course, the crowd only picks up after that, and one tray of drinks turns into two.
Then an hour turns to four, and the next thing we know, Lainey and I are ready to close up shop.
The lights come on one flicker brighter to signal to everyone to finish up.
She comes back to the bar, leans on it, and sighs heavily.
“What the hell was that?” she asks, looking as exhausted as I feel.
“I don’t know, but the money’s good,” I smile.
“You’re telling me,” she says, holding up a fat booklet. “Now tell me what happened. Every detail.”
“I was in the kitchen cleaning and he came in like a bat out of hell,” I say.
“Nothing new,” she says.
“He asked me to make him a drink, so I did. I asked him what was eating him. He complained about work. Changed the subject, and then when I tried to walk out, he stepped in front of me and–”
“Mila,” Niko’s sharp voice interrupts us, and we both turn to see him marching toward me.
“Yes, sir?” I ask.
“One of the regulars called out, I need another waitress,” he says.
“You mean in the…” I nod towards the back door, and he nods in return.
“Yes. Where else?” he asks.
So much for it being a secret.
“Are you sure about that?” I ask. “Last time didn’t go so well…”
“So I heard. But we have some of the top fighters in the ring tonight, and I need a full staff. Brynn will formally train you.”
Brynn. Fucking perfect.
I turn to see her smiling coyly at me. “Don’t worry, Niko, she’s in good hands. She won’t be spilling any drinks on people on my watch.”
I bite my tongue as she takes off her apron. Niko walks off, and I turn to Lainey.
“Since when do you work the ring?” she asks.
“Since tonight, I guess,” I tell her.
“How funny. I’ve worked here two years longer than you, and they’ve never asked me,” she says softly. I open my mouth to say something, but before I can, Brynn steps in.
“Not everyone is cut out for it, Lainey. Nothing personal,” her sugary smile is about as fake as they come. Then she switches her attention to me. “Come on. We need to get you…” she looks me over. “Ready.”
I nod and then look back to Lainey, but she’s already headed out the door. I want to go after her, but I don’t really have any other choice right now but to follow Brynn to the back room.
“Ring girls wear a similar uniform but less,” she tells me as she opens a locker.
“Less what?” I ask.
“Less material,” she says, holding up a skimpy strip of satin.
“What is that?” I ask.
“They’re shorts,” she says, tossing them at me.
“Shorts?” I ask, catching them and holding them up. “These are supposed to cover my ass?”
“No, they’re not supposed to cover your ass. That’s kind of the whole point. Ring girls aren’t just waitresses, Mila,” Brynn says. She shimmies out of her little black skirt and into the “shorts.” “They’re meant to be a show.” She turns and poses multiple times in front of the mirror.
“I guess I didn’t really notice when I was in there before,” I say.
She unbuttons her shirt and tosses it aside before slipping into a red, shiny tank top.
It hits me then that the theme is feminine boxers, like the Halloween version of the men’s costume.
“I wonder why Niko didn’t have me wearing that on the night I worked for you. ”
“Because you weren’t a replacement,” she says, cupping her own breasts in the mirror. “And you weren’t a Ring Girl. You were a rookie, a stand-in,” she says, turning to me. “You’re still a rookie. Until you prove otherwise. Now get changed. Betting on boxers makes rich men thirsty.”
Despite my hesitation, I change into the outfit, though it certainly doesn’t fit me the way it fits Brynn.
She’s a skimpy little thing, like the short version of Lainey with hardly any curves at all.
I’ve always been jealous of her perfect little butt and A-cups.
Even though Lainey insists, ‘junk in the trunk and full C cups would be a dream.’ Actually, I’m a small D cup, but I took it as a compliment.
As I stand in front of the mirror, Brynn looks me over and then twirls her finger in a circle, motioning for me to turn around.
“Hmm,” she says after I am facing her again. “Not bad.”
“Really?” I ask, looking in the mirror. “I feel like my entire ass is hanging out.”
Brynn smiles and grabs my arm, pulling me to the door. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Once we are at the bar in the ring room, she points out men sitting at the tables while rattling off drinks. “The one in gray over there with the blonde hair, that’s John. He owns a chain of toy stores,” she tells me.
“Toy stores?” I ask. “Like…toys for the fun of it?”
Another waitress giggles as she walks away with a tray.
“No, Mila. Adult toy stores.”
“Oh. Oh!” I nod.
“He drinks two fingers of whiskey neat. Only rye. Give him bourbon and he’ll throw it back at you,” Brynn says, eyeing a couple whiskey glasses on the bar before grabbing one in the middle.
“What if I get them mixed up?” I ask. I’ve been a bartender for a while, but the color of those two liquors is nearly identical. Obviously, I can tell bourbon from rye if I’m making the drink myself, but at a glance, it’s not so easy.
“Smell it,” she says, wafting the glass under my nose. It makes sense. “And if you have to…” she dips her finger in the glass and pops it in her mouth. “Taste it.”
“Won’t he get mad if he sees you doing that?” I ask.
“I’d rather he be mad about that than mad because he’s got a mouthful of bourbon that two seconds later is going to end up in my face.”
Jesus. This is a whole new ball game. I haven’t felt like this since I started my first job as a waitress at a diner by the stadium. I really am a rookie.
“The guy with him is Rob. He works for Hide and Peek,” she says.
“The lingerie chain?”
“You got it. They’re buddies, as you can imagine. He drinks negronis. Easy enough. Then there’s Chris and Cam next to them. Brothers. Pilots. They start with cinnamon whiskey and chase it with an IPA,” she says as she loads the drinks onto the tray.
“Gross,” I say.
“Right? They get a lot of shit for it too, but they’re pilots. They don’t give a fuck.”
I smile. Of course pilots would be too cocky to care.