Opal snorts and shoots her a look. “Oh please, my brother has already ensured the bar and clubhouse will always be stocked with those flavored fizzy can things you love and have been craving.” She punctuates her sentence with a meaningful look down at Graycie’s belly.
Graycie lights up and I’m not sure if it’s because her favorite drinks are in stock or because Snake made sure it happened. “Thank you for adding them to the inventory,” Graycie’s voice is sweet.
Opal rolls her eyes before smiling. “I’ll take the praise, but I know you’ll let my brother think he has the glory.”
“He does,” Bolt mumbles and we all turn to look at him. His eyes widen and the tops of his ears turn red. “So,” he holds the word out, awkwardly, “what’s it going to be?”
Opal’s eyes glint before she leans across the bar slightly. “I’m going to walk you through the steps. You’re going to make a tequila sunrise.” She glances at me and wiggles her eyebrows. “Make that two.”
“Fuck,” Bolt gripes under his breath.
“Hey,” I admonish, “language.”
He freezes for a second and shoots me a look. Then he looks toward the ceiling like he’s searching for patience. He can search all he wants. I’m not going to be helping him find it.
“Sorry, Ms. Lyons,” he shakes his head before correcting himself, “Ezra.”
I practically preen while perching on a barstool.
Then I watch as Opal walks him through making our drinks. He hates every second of it. There are grumbles. There are mumbles. There’s a kerfuffle with the glass choice.
When he has to pour the grenadine in and use a spoon, he clenches his jaw so tightly that I’m almost a little concerned for the kid.
We’re not the only ones watching either. The brothers standing at the bar are quiet, clearly enjoying the show. Bolt doesn’t buckle though.
Sidewinder steps up to the bar just as Bolt is adding the garnish and placing our drinks in front of us. Opal tenses, but it’s not the flinch of someone afraid. It’s something else. An awareness.
I look at her, but she’s focused on stirring her drink. She takes a drink and gives Bolt a proud nod. “Good job. Next time, I’ll order something else. If you’re going to be behind a bar, you might as well do the job right.” A conspiratorial note enters her voice, “Maybe you’ll even come up with a drink involving your moonshine?”
When I look at Bolt, he’s trying to hide a smile. “Let me know when you need another,” he tells us while pulling out a can for Graycie before heading back down the bar.
But as I watch him, there’s something a little different about him. I look at Opal and grin, “You’d make a good teacher if you’re ever interested in changing jobs.”
She snorts into her drink and shakes her head. “No, thank you. I don’t know how you do it.”
“I couldn’t do it either,” Graycie says, eagerly taking a sip of her drink with a look of delight on her face.
It’s good to see. She was so folded in on herself when she first came here. I’ve enjoyed meeting her again as she’s let go of whatever she was running from.
“You’d be really good at it. It’s a skill to get someone to an idea or figure out how to get them to buy into a new way of thinking without it feeling forced,” I push a little with Opal.
“Bolt,” there’s a warning in Sidewinder’s tone when the prospect hands him a beer which has me furrowing my eyes.
He walks away without saying anything else and heads right to where Snake and Titus are sitting. The crowd has grown at the table, but I notice the club whores haven’t approached them, even as they flit about the room like butterflies.
Opal laughs softly, the sound of it a little forced, “No, I’ve just learned to stroke a man’s ego because it’s easier sometimes than going at it head on. Not the same thing.”
She looks at me and there’s a flash of sadness in her eyes, but then it’s gone. I’m not sure if Graycie notices it or not. I want to push, but it doesn’t feel like it’s the right time. Or place.
“Anyway,” Opal’s voice brightens as she grabs my arm gently and her voice drops, “what is going on with you and Ryker?”
“Yes,” Graycie hisses. She glances around and then shakes her head. “Not here. Let’s grab a spot.”
Opal grins and claps her hands, none of the sadness remains. “To the booth,” she calls out and thrusts her finger into the air.
I can’t help but laugh, the three of us dissolve into giggles as we head over to one of the few booths in the room. It’s a good vantage point to see pretty much the entire space and the high backs surrounding each table make the space feel cozy.
The moment we sit down, I realize the other benefit, the walls help to muffle some of the sound.
