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I didn’t take my eyes off him as he walked behind the bar and began making my drink. The bartender was busy pouring a line of shots, probably destined for the rowdy booth beside me. It looked to be a bachelor party, and as I watched, the guest of honor was led by the hand toward an unmarked door, which I assumed led to the mystery back rooms.
Did my sexy server work in the back? I should be so lucky.
As he returned from the bar, I let my eyes roam over his tight body, and I cursed the poor lighting. I could tell well enough, though, that his shorts adhered to every inch of his crotch, and things were looking mighty tight in there. He made his way back toward me carrying a tall glass filled with a neon-green drink, garnished with a cherry.
“Dear gods,” I sputtered as he set it down in front of me. “I hate to think what that’ll do to my insides.”
“Vodka, apple schnapps, and green lemonade. And a cherry, of course,” he added, with a smile. He was clearly enjoying this.
“Sounds delicious,” I said, plucking the cherry from the glass by the stem. “So, can you tell me why this place is called The Bar Cherry? Seems a strange name for a kinky club.”
He set his hand on the back of my chair and leaned in, close enough that his chest brushed against my arm. My hands tingled with the urge to reach for him, but I was all too aware of the security guard’s eyes on me, just waiting for me to break the rules. No touching, I reminded myself.
“It’s a play on ‘debauchery,’” he whispered, his voice gravelly, and I swore I could almost feel his lips on the shell of my ear. “Get it? Debauchery, the bar cherry.”
My grin turned wolfish. “Yes, I get it.” Now I really wanted to know what was going on in those back rooms. “What’s your name?” I asked, dying to know more about this delectable man, though I supposed most of the staff here probably went under a fake name, like Don Juan or Romeo or Storm.
He hesitated only a moment before he said, “Arlo,” and it rang true.
“Arlo,” I repeated, loving the way it felt on my tongue. “It’s nice to meet you,” I said. “I would offer to shake your hand, but it’s against the rules. My name’s Max. Maybe you recognize me? I’m an actor. Max Shepherd. I’m kinda famous.” I normally tried to keep a low profile when I went out. I had a certain reputation as a family-friendly actor, and if people knew what kinds of activities I liked in my spare time, my reputation would tank. But in this case, I wanted to impress Arlo, to entice him. I wanted him to want me as much as I wanted him.
He smirked, trailing his fingers along my shoulders as he began to move away. “Nope. Never heard of you.”
3
Arlo
Of course I knew who Max Shepherd was. I’d recognized that chiseled jaw and aquiline nose the second I laid eyes on him. I mean, I didn’t live under a rock, and it didn’t matter that he hadn’t shaved in a couple days, or that he’d rumpled his hair or dressed down from his usual red-carpet suits, in worn jeans and a dark gray fitted tee. It wasn’t much of a disguise, and I was doubtful that anyone would be fooled about who he was.
We had rules about keeping our patrons’ identities quiet, but even if we didn’t, I still would’ve played dumb. I got a sick sense of satisfaction putting the cocky alpha in his place a little. The small crease between his eyebrows, a slight downturn of those full lips—he couldn’t fathom the idea of someone who didn’t worship the ground he walked on. What could I say, sometimes we all needed a reminder to stay humble.
I could feel Max’s eyes on me as I returned to the bar to collect the tray of shots for the bachelor party crammed into the back booth. Groups like these were always hit or miss. On the one hand, they usually got sloppy drunk and tipped really well. On the other… well, they were sloppy.
“Here you are, gentlemen,” I said, setting the tray in the middle of the table. “A round of blowjobs.” Most of their eyes were at half-mast, as they’d been here for two hours already and hadn’t had more to eat than a plate of nachos and a basket of wings split among them.
The guest of honor had been escorted to the back rooms after his best man bought him a private lap dance, but the rest of them were keeping the party warm in his absence. “What was that about a blowjob?” one of them asked, and I made the mistake of looking over to find he’d pulled his dick out and was waving it at me, flaccid and floppy thanks to too many drinks. My gaze flicked up to his eyes, and he gave me a slow wink.
I didn’t react, just sighed, collected my now-empty tray, and turned away. Why wasn’t I surprised? Oh, right, because it happened all the damn time.
This job wasn’t always bad. Sometimes the crowd was great, happy and relaxed. The music got us all in the right mood, and I danced through the tables, collecting over-generous tips from respectful customers. Those nights, I went home and counted out my cash, confident that I would pay all my bills before they were due, and I was grateful that I could earn a decent living working part-time hours. I had a great boss and co-workers, and I just knew in my heart that everything would turn out all right.
Other nights, though, it was like there was a full moon or something. Sometimes, the patrons even howled. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what kind of night this was going to be…
As I was headed toward the bathroom, someone reached out to slap my ass, and I yelped and jumped back. I never should’ve worn these shorts. This was more attention than I bargained for. Kevin, one of the security guards, descended, fully prepared to use his significant bulk if necessary—in fact, I suspected he was hoping for it. “All right, buddy. Time to leave,” he growled in his deep baritone, putting himself between me and the offender.
“Thanks, Kev,” I murmured before hurrying to the staff area, leaving him to take care of the issue.
I welcomed the momentary solitude in the bathroom, the walls muffling the worst of the din. I closed my eyes and blew out a long breath, leaning up against the counter and hanging my head. “Don’t forget why you’re doing this,” I whispered to myself. “Gran is relying on you. She’s worth it.” She was worth anything to me, even putting up with drunks.
I didn’t want to go back out there, but I couldn’t hide in the bathroom all night. That wasn’t how I earned my tips. Turning on the tap, I scooped water into my palms and splashed my heated cheeks, then I looked into the mirror, forcing myself to stare into my own unsteady gaze. What I saw was… surprising. There was a glimmer of steel I hadn’t expected to see in my gray eyes. Determination.
Growing up, I’d always been a bit of a pushover. I was demure and shy, a natural follower, quite content to let others lead. But suddenly, I found myself in a new role. I had to stand up for myself, and for others. To be honest, from the moment Cass suggested the job, I’d been prepared to fail. For the past three months, I kept telling myself to get through just one more day. But shift after shift, I wasn’t just fumbling my way through it—I was succeeding. Somewhere along the line, I had started rocking the hell out of this job, and I hadn’t even noticed.
“Huh.”
The dread I’d been feeling slowly retreated, until I was left with newfound confidence… or maybe it had been there all along. I reached over and grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and dried off my face. Behind that door was a roomful of people who wanted to give me their hard-earned money. And there was also one insanely attractive, charming movie star with plenty of cash to spare.
My lips widened into a smile, the first genuine one of the night. “Go get that money, honey,” I said to my reflection, repeating my friend’s words from earlier.
