15. Talking and Tequila
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
TALKING AND TEQUILA
Ruby
I’m not sure how I got through the rest of the night.
That guy grabbing me by the arm so tightly that I’ll bruise was a lot. But Payne kissing me in front of the entire bar before announcing I’m the love of his life is more than I can deal with.
I was hired to sing. That’s all.
And Payne hates me. If I were him, I’d hate me too. I did what I did for a reason—a damn good one—but it still doesn’t make what I did easy to forgive. It doesn’t matter how much time passes.
It tore me apart beyond repair. I hate that I had no other choice, and more than anything, I hate that I hurt Payne.
I knew I’d see him eventually when I came back to Winslet. I expected the cold shoulder, but not the one-eighty turnabout. And I never expected the kiss or to be claimed as the love of his life.
Ever since, he’s positioned himself at the end of the bar and has barely taken his eyes off me.
He chatted with clients, sipped on a glass of water, and acted like the last twelve years never happened.
The only difference is we’re not twenty, he’s not in college, and I’m not pretending to have my shit together.
I straight up know I don’t have my shit together.
I didn’t take the planned break between the second and third sets.
I feel bad. Blake’s hands must be cramping.
I’m going on pure adrenaline, but I wasn’t about to see what Payne would do on another break or what the guy’s deal was who looked like he was out for revenge because I ran over his favorite squirrel.
Between Payne and squirrel man, I could barely concentrate when Blake and I started the show again. A few minutes after the kiss that made me forget the last twelve years, squirrel man stalked out of The Speakeasy and never returned.
One thing for me to check off my list of things to worry about.
But the time has come to end this thing. I’ve pushed it forty-five minutes past schedule. I even took requests, which wasn’t a part of the plan, but I was desperate to put off the part of the night where Payne demanded I not leave without talking to him.
“Thanks for hanging out with Blake and me this evening. Enjoy your weekend at the manor.”
I hang up the mic, and Blake takes an adorable, dramatic bow. He’s about to go to the bar where Payne waits, but I grab his hand and pull him to the storage room. And it’s not lost on me that Payne licks his lips as he watches me bypass him.
My shit is so far from being put together, it might as well be scattered like glitter across the mountain range that flanks Winslet.
Blake shuts the door behind us, drags his forearm across his sweaty forehead, and sets the stuffed tip jar on a stack of boxes.
“I didn’t think it could get better, but that was fire.
You didn’t even take a break. If the tip jar is anything to go by, they freaking loved us!
And by the way, what in the ever-loving heck is going on with you and Payne? ”
I ignore the last question and decide to focus on our stellar performance. “Yeah, it was great.”
“Last week’s performances got better and better, but nothing compares to tonight. I’m just along for the ride. You were amazing. I don’t know how you do it and never lose your voice.”
I kick off my heels and slide my aching feet into a pair of flip-flops that should’ve been thrown out five years ago. “You were so good. I’m sorry I didn’t take another break. Your fingers probably hate me.”
Blake is still coming down from his high. “Okay, but what’s up with you and Payne? I can’t believe you got back together and didn’t tell me.”
I’m about to refute that when Felicity and Devon walk through the door. Felicity beams and clasps her hands at her heart. “That was splendid, you two. Bravo, bravo! I do believe private performances will be a big hit for future conferences.”
The chatter from the bar is muted again when Devon closes the door behind him. “Felicity is right. I don’t know what I have to do to keep you two on the payroll, but I’ll make it happen. My bar sales double when you two are here.”
“Double!” Blake beams. “That’s great, Mr. Donnelly. I love working here.”
There’s something about my brother that brings out the best in everyone. I wish I could be more like him.
Devon smirks at Blake, and I can tell it’s genuine. “I’ll do anything to keep you and your sister happy.”
“Thank you, Devon. Ditto what Blake said.” I turn to grab my bag and jacket. “I’m beat. Let’s hit the road, Blake.”
Blake turns to the tip jar. “I need to split this up with the bar and servers.”
I grab the tip jar and thrust it into Felicity’s hands. “Do you mind taking care of that? We can get our tips tomorrow. My feet are killing me.”
Felicity is about to agree, but Blake takes it back from her. “You never work this late, Felicity. Go home. This will only take a few minutes.”
Damn Blake for being so sweet.
I turn to Felicity. “Sorry. Yes, you should go home.”
Blake starts counting the tip jar—giddier with every bill he stacks.
She waves us off. “Pfft. I took a little snooze this afternoon to get me through the night. I’m in for the long haul this weekend to manage Payne’s conference.”
As if some supernatural voice from above announced his arrival, the door to the storeroom pushes open in a dramatic entrance. He looks around before his eyes land on me. He steps inside and slams the door.
Before he has the chance to speak or kiss me again, Felicity steps forward into the middle of the crowded space filled with liquor and every other necessity to run a bougie bar, and her nervous energy comes tumbling out of her mouth in a rush.
“I thought that was marvelous, right, Payne? Your clients really ate it up. What a perfect and lovely addition to the weekend.”
“They loved it,” Payne deadpans. “I need to talk to Ruby. Alone.”
“Oh,” Felicity squeaks. “But it’s so late. Her feet hurt.”
Blake stops counting money, and his eyes widen.
Devon crosses his arms. “Don’t you mean the love of your life?”
I can barely handle the drama with the lingering taste of Payne’s kiss.
I have no idea what tonight was about, but dealing with him after an emotional week is too much.
“We’re a little busy. We need to tip the waitstaff and get home to check on Grandma.
She’s been doing better, but you never know when her sweet tooth is going to take over.
I don’t trust her with her own devices just yet. ”
“I’ve got this.” Blake motions to the pile of cash in front of him and continues to double-cross me instead of having my back like a devoted half of a duo should. “And I can check on Grandma. I’ve been taking care of her for years. As long as Payne can give you a ride home when you’re done.”
Payne casually slides his hands into his pockets. “I can do that.”
“Whatever it is, it can wait.” I sit my booty on a case of Blanton’s.
Payne steps around Felicity, and one side of his mouth quirks up in a dare. “What are you afraid of?”
Afraid?
Damn. Payne knows how to get to me. But, if I’m honest, I’m afraid of a couple of things right now, and knowing why he kissed me is at the top of the list.
“I’m not afraid of anything,” I lie. “Don’t you have clients to shmooze and convince to give you control of their life savings? Isn’t that what this weekend is all about? Unless you’d like to give me feedback on the show, there’s nothing else for us to talk about.”
Felicity turns to Payne. “Were you not happy? You looked happy. Everyone looked happy.” Then she turned to Devon. “Do you agree?”
Devon agrees, but does it like a true Brit. “Bloody happy.”
Blake goes back to counting money. “By the weight of the tip jar, everyone was more than happy.”
Payne doesn’t take his gaze off of me. “The only thing I wasn’t happy about is you didn’t sing one of my requested songs.”
I shrug. “I wasn’t feeling it. Call it what you will—creative license or an artist’s choice. But when it comes down to it, your suggestions were shit.”
Blake laughs, and Felicity lets out an uncomfortable squeak.
Devon doesn’t have time to say anything because the door opens, and the bartender squeezes his way into the cramped room. “Sorry, boss. The bar is slammed. How long do you want me to stay open since the show’s over and it’s an open bar?”
Devon hikes a brow at Payne to let him answer. Payne looks at his watch, but I’m the one to speak up. “An hour. Maybe two. Let them drink up.”
An uncomfortable silence covers the room. The only noise is Blake counting in a murmur to himself since he’s ignoring everything else. He finally slams down the last bill. “Dang! Just my cut will be more than I usually make in a week working in The Greenhouse. I’ll get everyone paid.”
Blake leaves the room, and Felicity turns to me. “If you’re okay, I think I will go home. We have activities I need to see to first thing in the morning.”
“And I need a bottle out of that box you’re sitting on,” the bartender says.
Payne bends to pick up my heels and bag before he plucks my jacket from my arms. “We’re in the way. Let’s go so we can find a private place to talk. Then I’ll take you home.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll check on Grandma. I’ll even take your cut home for you,” Blake offers. I breathe a silent sigh of relief knowing I’ll be able to pay my rent back in New York.
“If everyone is good here, I’m going to shut down the office and get back to Harlow. I’ll be around tomorrow if you need anything,” Devon says.
Payne holds my things in one hand and offers me his other one. “See? Everything is taken care of. I’ll take you home after we talk.”
I don’t take his hand and jut to my feet, but not for Payne. I do it for the bartender since I’m in his way. I march out of the storage room on worn flip flops. Payne doesn’t miss a beat. He falls into step next to me, and his warm hand lands low on the small of my back.
I try not to, but the sheer touch of his hand sends a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with me being cold. I know he feels it, because his strong fingers give my side a squeeze.