“Where’s Tyler?”
He shrugged a shoulder, focusing the strength in his other arm on getting a sticky spot removed. “His appendix blew like a repressed virgin. Fucker didn’t even have the decency to wait until Ricardo got back, so I’m stuck on bar duty until he gets better.”
“Damn, that sucks for you.”
Throwing the rag in the sink, he sighed. “Yeah, it does. Tell your johns to tip me well.” Because those were the only tips he’d be getting tonight.
“Speaking of johns,” Melanie said and fluffed up her hair. Not that the curly wig she wore needed much fluffing; it was just as perfect as the rest of her. “It’s showtime, baby.”
Daniel looked over at the large archway that served as the bar’s entrance to see who was walking into the hyena den, about to get ripped apart by everyone looking to make a living. His heart stopped at the figure that stepped through, peering up at the ceiling, completely oblivious to the way everyone sized him up. Daniel could almost hear the thoughts turning in his coworkers’ heads, trying to determine how to win this man’s attention and money. Fuck, he could hear the predators licking their teeth at the prospect of meat.
“He’s gay,” he said sharply.
Melanie looked back at him, her eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” He hoped his expression was neutral enough and that she didn’t pick up the stress in his tone.
It made no sense, but he didn’t want his coworkers to look at Jensen the same way he’d looked at him just days ago. Daniel had made the same calculations when he saw Jensen sitting alone in the dark corner of the bar and saw a paycheck in his faraway gaze and uptight clothing. The man was an easy pull. A quick fuck to get the night started. Except he wasn’t that at all. He was so much more. He contained multitudes, or whatever pretentious people said. Jensen was fascinating and endearingly awkward and a nice fucking man. And he was currently being picked apart by every set of eyes in the quiet bar like he was nothing more than a wallet. Daniel had no right to be enraged by that. It was hypocritical and downright stupid.
“Well, I guess he’s Clarke’s, then,” Melanie said and slouched against the elbow she had set on the bar.
Daniel glanced her way. “He’s mine.”
Her eyebrows flew up, but he didn’t stay long enough to hear what she had to say about his asinine claim.
“There’re faces in the crown moldings in this room,” Jensen said as he sat on a stool.
“Hi, Jensen,” Daniel said with a smile, happy he’d chosen to sit at the bar and not tucked away in a corner where Daniel couldn’t supervise him. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“They remind me of these buildings in what’s now the Republic of Latvia. The architect’s last name was Eisenstein, something I mixed up with Einstein more than once in college. Quite an embarrassing mix-up, really.” Jensen’s mouth wobbled like he was trying to hold back a grin. “One of them left a permanent mark on the world, and the other did math or something else nonconsequential.”
Daniel stared at the man in front of him, almost at a loss for words. Usually, he was only speechless in front of men when his mouth was too full to talk. “Did you just tell a joke?”
The grin broke free then, lighting up his face and taking the air from Daniel’s lungs. “I’m known as quite humorous within certain circles.”
“Oh yeah?” Daniel found himself leaning across the bar, completely forgetting about his job and everyone else around them. It wasn’t the first time he had forgotten himself in front of Jensen. It felt freeing and terrifying all at the same time. A combination that was more refreshing than a shower after a long night.
Jensen shook his head. “Absolutely not, but I appreciate you believing that. Can I get two fingers of scotch, neat?”
“I’ll give you as many fingers as you want, handsome,” Daniel said with a wink that had Jensen blushing fiercely. “Which one would you like?”
Jensen situated the glasses on his face, somehow making the act adorable and sexy, and squinted at the back wall. “That one,” he said pointing.
Daniel turned around to grab the bottle. His fingers were barely on the neck when sound from behind him had his back straightening and his teeth clenching.
“Would you like some company, handsome?”
Hearing Clarke use the same term of endearment Daniel had called Jensen had anger flaring up hot inside him. With a choke hold on the bottle, he turned around abruptly, determined not to let Jensen out of his sight for more than a second for the rest of his shift. He worried if he wasn’t within Jensen’s field of vision, one of the assholes he called coworkers would whisk him away and make him forget all about Daniel. He didn’t want to sabotage anyone’s paycheck that night, but Jensen washis. Daniel didn’t want him talking about architecture or crown molding or wall sconces with anyone else.
“No, thank you. I’m only here to have a drink and work on my notes. My mother always said only alcoholics drink alone, hence why I’m here and not in my room. Though, I don’t think that’s true at all. She drinks alone in the kitchen pantry every time my grandma comes to visit.”
Clarke looked thrown for a moment, one Daniel enjoyed immensely. “Maybe you could tell me about your notes. I’m a great listener.”
“No.” Jensen took a sip of the drink Daniel put in front of him. “Oh, that’s good. But no, thank you, I’m worn out on the general public today.”
“General public?” Clarke asked, looking affronted.
Jensen shook his head, his glasses sliding down his nose. “It’s not derogatory. You, as a stranger, are part of the amorphous general public to me. Which I have spent too much time talking with today.”
