Chapter 7 Robbie
ROBBIE
The kitchen is bustling, the bar is hopping, I’m two men down, and I’m now trying to calm Samantha because one of the lads called her the wrong fucking pronouns, I don’t have time for this shit.
“He called me her, that is not how I identify!” They screech at the top of their lungs, over dramatic tears rolling down their face.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath, attempting to maintain my composure amidst the chaos.
“Samantha,” I say through my teeth. “You were she/her, up until last week. Forgive Gary for not being a fucking mind reader, maybe stop adjusting your pronouns overnight. If you don’t tell anyone, how the hell are we supposed to know? ”
Common sense does not win, they are still a hysterical mess. They would want to calm the fuck down before AJ gets here because if he walks in…
The chaos surrounding me suddenly comes to a grinding halt, which can only mean one thing.
Daddy’s home.
And much like us hearing our dad’s foot hit the floor after a late night shift when we were younger, everyone suddenly straightens up and shuts up. Everyone but the sobbing mess in front of me.
They have no idea how much they’re going to regret those tears in a minute.
“What seems to be the problem here?” I hear him before I see him.
I peek over my shoulder to see all six-foot-three of my brother standing in the doorway, his presence commanding attention.
True to his style, AJ’s chestnut hair is perfectly slicked back and faded at the sides, his freshly shaven face accentuates his strong jawline, and his grey eyes promise a world of hurt for anyone who crosses him.
Only he can walk into a room in an outrageously overpriced Armani suit and still look effortlessly cool and intimidating. His tattoos peek out at the neck and left cuff from beneath the black material of his shirt, adding an edge to his otherwise polished appearance.
He takes a step forward and everyone who can find an excuse to scatter does just that.
“Samantha’s a bit upset,” I throw over my shoulder.
AJ stuffs his hands into his pockets, his casual stride giving no indication of the storm brewing inside him.
He gives the kitchen a quick once over ensuring there is no build-up or hazards that could indicate an accident.
“I can see that.” He gives them the once over, checking for any signs of cuts or burns and finding none.
“Did you hurt yourself, Samantha?” He asks, knowing full well by this stage that they did not.
“No,” they shake their head and sniff pathetically.
AJ’s eyes narrow a fraction.
Great, this is going to be another disaster for me to clean up.
“Then what seems to be the problem?”
They roll back their shoulders and say, with too much gusto for somebody being so unreasonable, “I Identify as—”
AJ holds up his hand, cutting them short. A hint of a smirk appears on his face. “Samantha,” he purrs, removing a piece of invisible lint from their shirt. “I have a restaurant full of hungry patrons outside. I’ve had to come in to man the bar because we are so understaffed.”
I can see his jaw tic and I know he’s going for the kill.
“The only thing you should identify as when you’re on my time is an employee,” he states firmly.
“Your personal preferences and identities are irrelevant when I’m paying you to do a job.
Now, you have two choices,” he pauses with a snarl, letting their anxiety grow in the tense silence.
“You can either wipe the snot from your face and get your arse back out there and do your job or get the fuck out and sign on the dole first thing Monday morning.”
“I…” They gulp, shocked that my brother is not sympathetic to those who feel entitled to special treatment.
AJ strides right on by them, heading straight for the office. “When I come out of here, you better either have a tray in your hand or a bag on your back. Believe me, you don’t want me to make that decision for you.” Then he disappears.
I see Samantha turn for the staff room. Bag it is by the looks of things. Great, now we’re a server down too.
I march through the kitchen and out to the bar, full of eager patrons. AJ is the better bartender, but I think I’ll wait here until he graces us with his presence. I do not want to be in that kitchen for round two if Samantha tries to cause a scene.
I immediately get a group of women ordering; I’d put them anywhere from nineteen to twenty-four. After I check I.D., I practically shit myself when they all order porn star martinis— couldn’t be a simple vodka and coke, no?
AJ steps up beside me while I’m googling how to make them. “Move,” he brushes me aside, grabbing the cocktail shaker and vanilla vodka and getting to work. “Can you cover her tables?” he asks, watching Samantha storm past the customers with a furious expression on their face.
“Their,” I correct, and he glares at me. “I’m on it.”
Thankfully, everything else runs somewhat smoothly until one of the lads comes in to take over for me.
AJ must have called him while he was in the office.
I hurry back behind the bar seeing AJ “accidentally” knock over someone’s drink and get straight to work on making her up a fresh one.
His fingers press on the earpiece all our bar staff wear for these occasions and he half-turns away from her, keeping an eye on the man to her immediate left to make sure he doesn’t go anywhere.
Two of our “security guards” escort the bloke to the back rooms, while AJ continues to serve the woman.
He pushes a fresh drink in front of her with a charming smile, making sure to apologise for the spill before taking his earpiece out and passing it to me.
“I’ll be back in ten,” he says, not stopping to clarify what the hell is going on.
He doesn’t need to. It happens too much in the nightclub to warrant an explanation.
It’s not always someone spiking a drink either, sometimes they sneak in syringes to jab unsuspecting patrons. Trust AJ’s Hawkeyes to notice the sleight of hand when others fail to do so.
The bar stool directly in front of me is immediately taken by a young woman with long auburn hair and cognac eyes. She’s not too dressy, not too casual and I can practically see FUCK OFF! Tattooed on her forehead in neon letters. I only hope it’s as obvious to all straight men.
“What can I get you, love?”
Her expression instantly changes to a warm, inviting smile. “Can I get a Smirnoff Ice, please?”
I must make the “hmm” face because she lets out a nervous laugh. “What?”
“I would have put you for more of a cocktail girl,” I say with a wink, turning to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of Smirnoff Ice. Plus, I don’t say it, but she asked for the drink nicely, not just barking an order as some customers do. I appreciate that.
A faint blush stains her cheeks. “Maybe later,” she smiles, somewhat awkwardly. I notice immediately that she can’t hold eye contact for very long, her gaze darting behind my shoulder, to the bottles behind me, or to the bar itself.
Autistic perhaps?
A friend of mine has a son on the spectrum.
Then again, she could just be shy. It is hard to tell from such a short interaction.
I serve a few more people and notice she does not leave her seat at the bar. When the rush dies down again, I step over to her and ask, “Here by yourself?”
“No,” she shakes her head dismissively. “Well, yes,” she snorts, gesturing to the empty chairs beside her. “I’m meeting my sister here.”
“She is running late then?” I inquire, trying to make conversation.
“No, I’m early,” she says, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. She’s fidgeting a bit with her fingers, and I notice her bouncing her leg a lot.
Perhaps she’s anxious? Restless? Neurodivergent, the voice in my head states smugly, like there couldn’t be a more obvious explanation.
“I’m Robbie, by the way.” I extend my hand, trying to see if she can hold my gaze for longer than a fleeting moment.
She hesitates for a second before shaking my hand firmly. “Katie,” she replies, her eyes darting away before she even releases my hand. Then they flit back just as quickly.
She’s trying, God love her. This must be stressful for her, having the place this busy. Too many people. I get it.
Her gaze shifts to something to the right of the bar, I turn to see what’s so interesting, only to grin at the sight of him.
Of course it’s AJ.
He seems to have that effect on women.
He comes straight for the bar, not so much as a hair out of place as he confidently navigates through the crowd. I glance at the clock—ten minutes exactly.
“Sorted?” I ask, refusing to find out the gory details of what he’s done to scumbag in the back.
“Sorted,” he nods, pausing for a split second when he spots Katie alone. “She alright?”
“Yeah, waiting for her sister,” I say, stepping by him to pour a pint of Carlsberg for another customer. I notice him doing his not-watching but watching thing, subtly observing Katie from the corner of his eye.
She’s attractive, though a little socially awkward, but beautiful women are not a rarity where my brother is concerned.
I’ve seen the women he dates, and though Katie is pretty, she is not quite on the same level as the glamorous and confident women he usually surrounds himself with, so I know, it’s not her looks he is drawn to.
There’s something else about her that has caught his attention.
Something only he can see.
His brow furrows slightly, he makes no move to approach her. Instead, he turns to me and says, “Keep an eye on her.” Then he disappears into the back.
I catch Katie’s eye and approach, “Another?” I ask, noticing her drink is almost empty.
She debates it, then nods and says, “Eh, yeah, please!” She makes sure to add the please.
“Not a bother,” I smirk, turn back to the fridge, and pull out another bottle. It opens with a hiss, and I pour the cold liquid into a glass, watching the bubbles rise to the top.
Her sister—or at least, who I assume is her sister—slides up beside her just as I’m handing Katie her drink.
She turns to me with a wide smile. She has dark hair, and similar eyes to Katie; only this girl can hold my gaze a little longer. “Can I get a strawberry daiquiri, please?” she asks, her voice sweet and playful.
“Sure, no problem.” My smile is tighter than I’d like it to be; I’ll admit, I’m panicking slightly. I fucking hate cocktails. I tap on the earpiece and ask one of the lads to send out AJ because I’ll most likely make a balls of it and end up wearing it.
“Ah, there’s my dark knight now.” I beam as AJ approaches, his tall frame towering over the bar.
“You’re going on a course for this,” he grunts, taking the cocktail shaker and practically slapping me in the face with it. “Watch,” he says sternly, his eyes fixed on mine. I follow his every movement, trying to commit it to memory as best as I can.
When he’s done and is in the middle of pouring, I earn a nostril flare when I say, “I need to take a piss.”
AJ raises an eyebrow, his stern expression softening
slightly. The eyebrow raise is his version of an eyeroll.
“I’ll be quick,” I add, I swear my bladder is not out to annoy him. I get it. I do. He has to go straight from here to the club later and won’t get home until about five in the morning. He’ll be lucky to scoff down some food in the back before he’s out the door and onto the Orion.
* * *
KATIE
“Don’t you know who that is?” Ciara’s eyes are wide and she’s basically sitting on my lip.
I turn to see Robbie making a bolt for the back and accidentally catch the gaze of the other barman. I quickly divert my gaze; I don’t want him to think I was openly gawking at him. Something about his face is familiar but I can’t place him.
I will say that I find him stupidly attractive with his dark hair, tattoos, high cheekbones, and strong jawline, which can only mean one thing: he’s a walking red flag. My alarm bells are not only ringing; they’re practically screaming.
I meet Ciara’s gaze again and ask, “No, should I?”
“That’s AJ fucking Quinn!” Ciara whispers as if she’s afraid he’ll overhear her. “Don’t you watch the news? He was all over it a few years ago for shooting a garda.”
“Firstly, my life is depressing enough as it is without watching the news. Secondly, shooting a garda? Seriously? Why’s he not locked up then?”
“Charges were dropped.” His voice is smooth and confident, with a hint of arrogance.
We both freeze and turn slowly to see him leaning on the bar, looking at us, a smile curling the corners of his lips. “They fingered the wrong guy.”
“Or you paid them off,” Ciara blurts out, and I want the ground to open and swallow me whole.
An arm slides around my shoulders, and I instantly recoil. I turn to see two blokes standing behind us, grinning. “Can we buy you ladies a drink?”
“Sure,” Ciara replies at the very same time I say, “no thanks.”
“What are we drinking?” the shorter of the two asks. He’s stocky and has greasy brown hair; his eyes are darting between Ciara and me.
AJ looks at them, casually drying a glass with a towel, as if he has nothing better to do. “The lady said no,” his voice is low, casual, but firm. He doesn’t look at me or Ciara, instead, he keeps his eyes fixed on the men behind us.
“Well, this lady said yes,” the taller man says, stepping closer to Ciara.
AJ sucks on his teeth; his gaze briefly falls on me before returning to the taller man. His smile is forced. It looks almost painful. “What can I get for you?”
I spot the other barman coming back and it is only when he stands beside AJ that I notice some similarity, I wonder if they’re related.
AJ turns and stalks off into the back, leaving the lads to repeat their order to Robbie, Ciara adds her order in because, why the fuck not? Free drinks, right? Robbie’s eyes fall on me expectantly.
I don’t like this. I really don’t like this. My skin feels like it’s crawling. If I were here alone, I’d just leave, but I cannot leave my sister with these two.
“Another Smirnoff?” Robbie asks kindly.
“Just water, please,” I reply, trying to hide my unease.
“So, what’s the plan, ladies?” The short one asks, pulling a seat up beside Ciara.
“We’re just waiting for our table to be called,” I mutter, hoping they get the hint. They don’t.
“Cool, cool,” the short one nods, finishing the remainder of the drink in his hand. “Well, we’re heading to the Orion later; would you like to join us?”
I don’t get a chance to answer, Ciara jumps on the chance to go dancing. Meanwhile, I’m already dreading the thought of spending more time with these strangers. I want to just go home and go to bed now.
The taller one then turns to me and winks.
Lord help me; this is going to be a long night.