15. Blue
BLUE
If Treasure gives me shit, I’ll tell her I need to pay Sapphire the cash I owe her for the other night. Which is true. Medium thick stack of bills I pulled out at an ATM earlier, right here.
But I don’t see Sapphire. Maybe she thinks she’s being cute? I don’t know. I’m not keeping her money no matter how much she avoids me. Hell, I’ll just leave it here as a tip for whichever girl’s working the bar.
I sip my whiskey and nearly spit it out.
Or maybe not leave a tip.
Fuck, what is this?
I lift the glass again and smell. Sugary. Spiced. A ripple of annoyance goes down my back—the one thing I wanted to be the same as usual today and someone fucks it up.
I close my eyes and clench my jaw.
Tink. This is all because of fucking Tink.
Not the drink. But the reason I’m still here and not back home, the real reason.
I know Pan was yapping about his stupid fucking jacket and Fox wouldn’t shut up about the fucking dog, or whatever, but somehow I know, I just fucking know, that we wouldn’t be stuck with a fucking kid if it weren’t for Tink.
Because I’m more certain of it now than I even was before.
Tink’s hiding something.
The godawful smell of rum wafts up out of my glass as the DJ shifts from the low thuds of a house track to something spikier, louder, and my jaw tightens further. Strike two. I try to catch the eye of the girl working the bar—tall, dirty blonde, not one I know—and signal for her to come over.
“Yeah?” A split second passes. Then she smiles at me. Like she’s remembering to turn it on.
My expression doesn’t change either way. “You new?”
The smile evaporates. She’s cute. Skinny, but cute. Beautiful, even. Less camgirl, more runway, long legs and small tits, narrow face and big eyes. But something about her…
The clothes, I realize. Don’t quite fit. Little teal skirt hanging off her hips, cups of her pink corset-thing mostly hollow.
“Yeah,” she says again. Tucks some hair behind her ear. “I’m”—she thinks for another split second—“Diamond.”
“Diamond,” I repeat. One of these days they’re going to run out of gemstones, I think. I hold up my glass. “You poured this?”
She nods, tentative. “Um, yeah. Did…you want another?”
No. “What did I order?”
“Um, a…well whiskey. Neat,” she adds quickly. The glitter on her eyelids winks and flashes as she darts her eyes around.
“And what did you pour me?”
“Captain Morgan?”
“Which is?”
“Rum.” A different voice—lower, firmer. Treasure.
She gives Diamond a quick up and down and jerks her head down the bar. “Try again.”
Diamond nods and skitters away, and Treasure folds her arms and looks at me.
“Can’t have you bullying my girls, Blue.” Her eyes flash with a hint of danger as she collects the disgusting glass of rum and dumps it in the bar sink. “Specially not Di. She’s new.”
I can tell. “Sapphire working tonight?”
Treasure ignores me. She’s staring down the bar at Diamond, who’s staring at the lit-up rack of bottles. Like she’s double-checking her own work.
I stare too.
And then I see it. On Diamond’s reflection, in the mirrored doors of the bar fridges under the counters.
The X. Big, black, angry, on the inside of her hip. Where the too-big miniskirt is sagging.
Treasure’s gaze shifts seamlessly back to me, and we lock eyes for a split second.
“Like I said,” Treasure speaks slow and clear. “Diamond’s new.”
For a moment, I forget about Sapphire. “How new?”
“Turned up late last week. Finally got her in good enough shape to work. Just bartending,” Treasure clarifies.
Her eyes flick back to Diamond, who’s now pouring a thin stream of Four Roses into a fresh glass, a look of concentration puckering her eyebrows.
“I’m not here to retraumatize anyone, right? Consent is queen.”
Amen to that. “So she was working for him.”
Treasure snorts. “If you can call it that. Apparently thought she was being offered a modeling job, poor thing.” I glance back to Diamond, her mile-long legs, and yeah, I can see that. “And then next thing you know…”
Next thing you know she’s got Hook’s fucking brand on her. X marks the spot.
And Jesus, I hate it.
Hate it, hate him. And everyone like him.
I don’t even bother hating most people because I can’t. No leg to fucking stand on, no morals to be high and mighty about. But for the one fucking principle I do have, then it’s Hook, and people like Hook—men like Hook, if you can even call scum like that a man—that piss all over it.
You want to fuck for money, fine. It’s a good living. You don’t want to? Then don’t. Don’t make anyone else do it. Don’t fracture their cheekbones, don’t get them hooked on junk and lock up the supply, don’t brand them with a fucking tattoo like they’re your fucking property.
“He’s fucking sick.”
It’s not until the words come out of my mouth that I realize I’ve actually said what I’m thinking out loud. For once.
When I look up, Treasure’s face is soft.
“Blue—”
No. I stare back down and don’t say anything. Count the flecks in the bar surface.
“Look,” Treasure says after a moment. Enough edge back in her voice that I can lift my head again.
“I know your boy Pan gets off on flirting with danger. Among other things. And I know you’re most concerned with where you’re going to stick your dick next—save it,” she adds, when I open my mouth.
And I close it, because fair enough. “But?” I prompt.
“But.” Treasure inhales, exhales. “All I know is, I’ve seen what Hook does to his girls—“his” girls”—she draws air quotes. “And if that’s how bad he treats people who are making him money…well, I don’t want to know what he’d do to whoever’s costing him, you feel me?”
I do.
“So maybe Pan should take things a little seriously for once, is all I’m saying,” she finishes. “Grow up and take some responsibility. Especially with that little girl around—”
Fuck. That—
I’d almost forgotten.
Almost.
I fold my arms and cut Treasure off. “Sapphire working tonight?”
Treasure gives the tiniest sigh. But before she can answer—
“Here you go.” Diamond nearly trips over Treasure to set the new glass in front of me. “I’m…so sorry about that.”
I ignore her, still staring at Treasure.
“Sapph’s around.” Treasure sidesteps to the register, tapping the point-of-sale screen awake and not meeting my eyes. “Didn’t take you for a second-date kind of guy, Blue.”
I’m not even a first-date kind of guy. “I have her money.”
Treasure stops. Looks at me a moment. Two. “Ah.”
She taps in my order to the POS.
“Is your drink okay?” Diamond’s voice has a tiny waver to it.
I take a sip. It’s fine. “How old are you?” I ask her.
“Old enough to bartend,” Treasure calls over her shoulder, retreating to the other end of the bar. “I’m legal as hell on that front.”
I don’t care. I’m not a cop. I keep my eyes on Diamond, waiting.
“Eighteen,” Diamond says. “My birthday was in March.”
I’ll believe it. I sip the whiskey again, set it down, reach out my hand. “Phone.”
Diamond blinks rapidly. “Sorry?”
“Phone,” I repeat. “Give me yours for a second.”
Diamond balks.
“I don’t give out my number to patrons,” she recites, shoulders square. Learned her lines already, I see.
“Good for you.” I don’t want it. “Phone.”
Diamond looks right, then left, and I can’t tell if she’s scared of getting caught or looking for someone to give her permission. But Treasure’s off to one of the VIP booths, and all of the other Mermaids are giving me a wide berth.
Christ. Usually girls don’t refuse me this hard unless they’re angling for me to get all dominant and order them. But I know enough to know that’s not what Diamond’s after.
Fine, I’ll spell it out. “I’m trying to help you.” I say the words to the X on her hip. “If that’s okay.”
Something flickers over Diamond’s face. She nods. Reaches under the counter and fishes something out—no-name prepaid smartphone.
I take it, thumb in the numbers. “Clinic hotline,” I explain, and save the contact. I swipe over to her Maps app, scroll around, and drop a pin. “And that’s the walk-in. They’ll test you free once a month.” I look up and meet her eyes, make sure she understands me. “Public health grant.”
I hold the phone back out.
“I’m…” Diamond’s eyes are big, brows up. Her fingers are trembling a little as she takes the phone back. No manicure, I notice. “I’m just a bartender,” she finishes.
“You are,” I agree. “Now.”
The music throbs, glassware and bottles buzzing to the bass line.
“He bothering you?” Treasure is back. And I don’t care for the Mama Bear edge in her voice.
“Just giving some friendly advice.” My voice is practically a growl.
“Oh yeah? Bet you left out the most important part.” She points a long-nailed finger at me. “Don’t fall for him,” she instructs Diamond. “Or any of Pan’s boys. They only know how to fuck around and break your heart.”
I look at no one.
“I’ll let Sapph know you came in, B,” Treasure adds lightly, scooping up the bills from my elbow. “You just stay out of trouble, all right?”
My mind flashes to what’s waiting back across the street.
To Tink.
That look on his face the other night, like I’d caught him at something.
“I fucking wish,” I mutter.
Then I drain the rest of my whiskey and leave.