“Yes, please,” I say with a smile. It’s basically what every model drinks, since it’s low in calories.
“Be right back,” she says, then weaves through the crowd toward the bar.
Eighties music plays loudly through the speakers. A few couples dance in the area that’s designated as the dance floor. A few women standing nearby sing along to lyrics about a runaway. Though the environment is dim, the mood is light.Happy and friendly. I scan the crowd and don’t see a single frown.
Sam stands at the bar, a stack of bingo cards in his hand instead of a drink. Beside him is Grady, casually leaning against the dark wood. He looks good. Not different from any other time I’ve seen him. He’s still dressed casually in jeans, a tee, with a light flannel unbuttoned. Maybe his hair is neater than I’ve seen before.
I’m not sure. But I like what I see. A bartender sets a beer in front of him, leaning over just enough for her ample cleavage to be noticed. Notice he does, as indicated by the appreciation shown on his face.
For a quick second, I feel slighted. Jealous or overlooked. All of which is completely stupid. I hardly know the man, and I’m freshly out of a horrible relationship. I’m in no position to be interested in a man.
It could be that I’m envious of her, though. My cup size is a solid B and the bartender sending Grady flirtatious looks is at least a D. You always want the things you can’t have, and for so long, I thought I wanted bigger breasts.
When I first started in the industry, I dreamed of Victoria’s Secret runway shows that I don’t have the curves for. Lean and lanky has served me well in my career, but I’ve been reminded too many times that I don’t have a womanly body.
Pierre would say I was lucky he loved me because no real man would be attracted to me otherwise.
It’s been a long time since a man has looked at me with lust. With want and yearning. With possessiveness that leans deep into the protective zone instead of ownership. How long has itbeen since a man looked at me with something other than dollar signs or disdain in their eyes?
I can’t say. Or I haven’t noticed. To be fair, I’ve been careful around other men, not making too much eye contact or being too touchy and friendly. If there had been looks, I’m not certain I’d have recognized them.
“She’s too much,” Juliet says, setting our drinks down in the only clear spots left around the bingo cards.
“Who?”
“The bartender,” she says with a heavy eye roll. “January. She’s had a crush on Grady forever, now, which yeah, okay, whatever. But she’s so obvious about it. It grosses me out since he’s basically a family member.”
“You sound jealous,” I tease, though I’m accusing myself too.
“Gross. He’s the last man I could be attracted to. I am fiercely protective of him, though,” she says, looking back over her shoulder at the bar. “I don’t like them together, and I don’t trust her. It’s just a vibe, you know?”
“Have you told him that? I only ask because I wish someone would have…I probably wouldn’t have listened. But I’d at least know someone had been trying to look out for me.”
“No.” She slumps down in the chair. “I assumed I should stay out of it, but you have me second-guessing that.”
“Knowing you, you could find a sly, tactful way to bring up whatever your concern is.”
“Tactful.” She snorts.
“You can be!”
“At work, sure. Only because I have to be.”
Sam taps a microphone, getting everyone’s attention.
“All right, you all know how this goes, but I’ll explain it for Lou since it’s her first time,” he says, sending me a wink. I didn’t even know he’d noticed me over here, but I stand and give the room a curtsey. “And for Jules, who has been in the city so long she’s probably forgotten everything she learned here.”
“Hey, I still know my numbers,” she hollers back at him.
“You need to know letters, too, sweetheart,” he chimes back.
“I know the letters F and U.” She flips him off, and the bar erupts in laughter.
While Sam explains the game and announces the prizes, all of which are donated by local businesses, things like free smoothies and flower arrangements, Grady drags a chair from another table and sidles in between Juliet and me.
“Where are your cards?”
“I never play. I just donate some money or my time,” he tells me.
