Yield

11. Ryke

A few months ago I sat in this treehouse — the place of deep conversation and life reflection. I haven’t been up here since. I swear it was built at a spiritual nexus. A center of power.

Max would make fun of me for that thought.

I lean back in the wooden lounge chair on the deck of the treehouse, picking up my phone from the armrest. The warm air blows my hair to one side. I flick it out of my eyes, looking at the time.

Two hours.

Then, I get to show off all my hard work.

“Ryke, this place is awesome,” Sara spins on a bar stool. Her copper hair is in a tight ponytail with flyaways hanging in her face. Black spandex shorts and a loose, muted orange t-shirt with a dragon on the back, she leans her forearms to the black granite, continuing to twist the stool back and forth.

“Imagine it when it’s dark, with all the lights and shit.”

I slaved over this place, even working on the days I consistently took off. It’s a huge investment, but I’m confident in it.

It’s not a fucking sports bar. You won’t find TVs at every corner. The two VIP sections have TVs that showcase a view of the stage, not that they need them since they can see everything from the balcony. I set up a projector with a drop-down screen that falls near the bar when we need it and I’m utilizing the wall behind the stage to stream graphics when it’s not in use.

A bar with servers separates the two VIP sections that can easily attend to their needs. They can request specific performers to visit them, but if you want the luxury experience, you pay the luxury price. Those big cuddle couches didn’t come cheap. The black microfiber spheres have a glass holder on one arm and a detachable stainless steel tray on the opposite.

“Where did you get the sofas up there?” Chris thumbs over his shoulder, walking down the steps toward the main bar in black skinny jeans that meet a yellow and gray Nirvana tee. His voice almost echoes in the empty space.

“They’re twenty-five hundred a piece,” I inform him.

“Never mind.”

Jake walks through the door with Ethan.

“Hey, E,” Sara smiles.

Jake holds his hands down with well fuck me energy. “Hi, Jake.” He deadpans.

“Yeah, hey to you too. Did you get some sun? Looking less like a ghost today,” she bites.

“He’s Casper-chic,” Alex walks through the door like he owns the place. “Man, this place is nice!” He snatches his aviators off his face and tucks them on his buzzed head.

“Hey, I’m sun-kissed now. I’m doing exterior work again now that the weather is nice.” Jake loves to brag about his home restorations. He did some work on this place for me. “We can’t all be blessed with that natural tan, Sara.” He walks around, looking up at the balcony.

E sits next to Sara, still a man of few words.

“If this is a contest, I already won,” Chris walks behind the bar, auditing the beverage selection cloaking the wall.

“Who cares? The tan doesn’t matter. It’s all about the hair. The ladies love a shaved head they can rub.” Alex grabs his glasses, rubbing his hand over his head.

“They don’t love men in thong sandals and board shorts,” Sara challenges.

“Your sister does.”

Ohhh, fuck.

Her head bobs to the side. “Touch my sister and I’ll have your parents divorced in six weeks.”

“Six? I’ll pay you if you can do it in three. I wish someone would have done it when I was a kid. Then, I could’ve had two Christmas mornings, like E.”

“Fuck off, Alex. Prick,” Ethan grumbles.

Sara faces E with comforting words. “He’s upset that Ryke won’t let him dance.”

“No, no. Ryke won’t hire me because I would have all the panties on the floor and he can’t handle that much tang being thrown around.”

“Yeah, because I don’t have women telling me I’m the love of their life on a daily basis.”

E spins from the bar to address me. “What are you going to do if a stalker shows up?”

“Security. If they get too possessive...But I don’t plan on making myself easily accessible. I make my appearances, but Nina, uh, she’s my general manager. She has the bases covered.”

“Where is the entertainment?“ Sara glances around.

“Hunter and Christian are in the back. I don’t expect to see anyone else for a while.” They both relocated for this job. An opportunity to grow with my brand. They’re dedicated and intelligent, but Sara is on Mars if she thinks I’m introducing her to them.

“When are they rehearsing?”

“Sara’s getting thirsty. Check your girl, E.” Alex couldn’t be more subtle.

She waits for his reply, watching his eyes change from gentle to cold. “Not my girl.”

Everyone avoids making eye contact as the atmosphere changes. “Um, where’s the bathroom, Ryke?”

“On the left,” I point, rubbing the back of my neck.

She nods and leaves.

“What’s your problem, man?” Alex hops over the seat beside Ethan, resting his arms on the counter and parking his ass. “Sara is into you.”

“I couldn’t.”

I take a seat on Alex’s left and Jake goes to Ethan’s right.

“Christopher,” Alex says in his best British accent. “I could go for a frothy pint, my good man.”

“That sounds righteous,” Jake mimics. “I’ll have the same.”

“Yes. Indeed,” Chris points as he circles, searching for the cups. In his best accent, he doesn’t shy away. “I can not find shit, in this bitch.”

I clear my throat, gaining the attention. “If you’re going to be bitching, get out of the fucking kitchen.”

“What did I just walk into?” Sara calls from behind us.

“Madam Sara, would you like a brewski or some spotted dick, courtesy of E?” Laughter slowly breaks out from Alex’s dialect.

“Man, I had to go to the doctor for that one time,” Jake grumbles. “Balls too.”

“It was Maria from Gas-N-Go, wasn’t it?” Chris asks. “She’s a dirty girl and I mean dirty.”

“Hello,” a voice calls. I look past Sara to see Tess, my bar manager.

“Hey, Tess. Just in time. This clown is about to destroy your precious cargo.”

Chris looks like he saw an angel erupting from the clouds of heaven. He’s stunned, fixated on the brunette with full-colored sleeves of art and a neck tattoo. A brow pierced above her green eyes, angel bites above her lip, and ears stretched to at least a half inch, she’s dressed in every inch of black clothing and combat boots.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” she gives cheek, bending to the safe behind the bar. She enters her code and puts her bag inside, shutting it. Her hands go to her hips. “What are we drinking?”

“Spotted dick,” Jake mutters.

Her head snaps in his direction. “That’s not a drink, dumb American.” Dumb for trying to be something we’re not, but it’s still funny.

“Frothy pints, my lady,” Alex adds, not caring about his shitty interpretation.

She gives in, firing back with her own attempt to sound less southern. “Coming right up, good sir.”

“She passes the vibe check,” Alex thumbs. “Are you single?”

“Depends. Who’s asking?” She grabs five glasses and sets them on the counter, filling one after the next at the tap. “Are you asking?”

“Me?” Alex points to his chest. “Naa. You’re not my type.”

“What’s your type?”

“Ugly.” Scattered laughs erupt. “I mean, nerdy.”

“What about you?” She sits a beer in front of Chris. “Is your type nerdy?”

“My type is tattooed and pierced.”

“Mine are guys in band tees and black jeans.”

“Keep it PG. There are kids in here.” I swallow the smooth taste down.

“What?” Her brows lift, slightly concerned.

“Jake hasn’t hit puberty yet. Don’t make fun of him.” Rubbing my chin, a smile pulls from the corner of my mouth.

“You’ll get used to them.”

“Sara’s right. You’ll get so comfortable you turn into one of the guys,” Alex perks up.

“You’re lucky I don’t break your aviators again, asshole,” she threatens.

“What about you, Ryke? Talk to any more virgins?” Chris pokes.

“Only ever met one.” Tess shrinks back. “Only one paintball virgin.”

She fans her face with long black nails that could slice a throat. “I thought you had some weird kink that everyone knew about.”

“It is true that we openly discuss our sex lives all the time like Sex And The City.”

“Are you Carrie? I feel like you’re the Carrie.”

“He doesn’t know who that is, but I can vouch that you are on the money.” Sara seems to know what she’s talking about, but I have no clue. Never watched the show.

“No, I think he’s more of a Samantha.”

“Ohhhh, E watched Sex And The City,“ Alex calls.

“I haven’t watched the sequel yet. Have you?” Sara asks.

“No,” he shakes his head.

“I’m free Sunday if you wanna catch some popcorn at my place and watch it?”

Take the opportunity E. Fucking take it.

“Maybe.”

“So, how is Max?” Alex elbows me.

“Not single, Alex.” I down the rest of my beer, pushing my glass to the front of the counter. Alex repeats my move, resting one arm on the countertop as he opens toward me.

“Then why do you keep talking to her?”

“She’s like Sara.”

“She’s not like Sara. Not the way you looked at her.”

“I always want what I can’t have.” I press my tongue to my cheek and shrug.

The soft opening is in a few hours. Everyone is doing their thing and I’m thinking about taking a nap. I should have taken one earlier in the treehouse. Getting here and making sure everything was on the money seemed more vital.

“I have a high tolerance for bullshit.”

“Yeah, but that’s a lot,” Max says. “You don’t open up often.”

When she called me today, she wasn’t expecting to get an earful. It had to be my turn. She’s given me every reason to trust her and hold her emotional distress.

“I guess I’m an introvert.”

I walk the stairs to the private lounge at Rave, falling into the sofa, exhaustion taking over.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. It’s the ripple effect. It’ll pan out.” Sara brought a plumbing issue to my attention. Trying to find someone to come in last minute, figure out the problem, and fix it...Well, Alex and Jake are currently supervising the man that’s triple their age. “Just like things will work out for you.”

“I don’t know if they will,” she exhales.

“Things always work out the way they’re supposed to.” I brush my hair back, looking at the ceiling.

“I don’t know how you believe in that stuff.”

“I choose to be positive and have faith in the universe’s magic. It’s the same way people choose to believe in other things...deities and...whatever atheists believe.”

“Do you know what it’s like to be exhausted, like that constantly miserable point of exhaustion, but you can’t stop? Because if you stop, everyone falls, not just you.”

“I bought a club, Max. I know you’re not trying to be selfish, but yes, I know what it feels like. I know you’re struggling. I know it’s hard and you’re going to be okay. You’re going to get through this. You are strong and smart and I know you’ll find what makes you happy again.” The line goes silent. I wait, listening for a breath that gets picked up every now and then.

Max is the beautiful girl who doesn’t have all the attention on her, therefore she doesn’t realize how many guys would love a chance to treat her the way she deserves. Or maybe I’m wrong and she doesn’t care. She wants him to step up. Not me or any other man. If only I didn’t like how the more she tells me, the more I tell her. I want to let her in. It’s a fool’s game.

I always want what I can’t have.

That’s Max.

Someone who I can’t have. Someone with a pure soul.

And an excellent designer.

And a caring friend.

“I think I’m leaving for good this time.”

Sure, Max.