Page 4 of Into The Light

I stood up straight and smoothed my ponytail. A quick swipe with my fingers under my eyes confirmed I had won the battle against the tears. With a deep breath I opened the door, cringing at the wave of sound that assaulted my ears. I would kill for a hot bath, a good book and silence.

You need the money. Get your shit together and get out there.

I closed the door behind me and walked over to the serving station. All eyes were on me as I tried my best to pretend the unfortunate incident was just a figment of their imaginations.

Eric leaned on the bar. “You sure you’re okay?”

I nodded. He was the closest thing to a friend I had in this town. Considering I never saw him outside of work that wasn’t saying much. The girls at the office were catty and still treated me like an outsider. The other waitresses here were all in college and into partying. I was the only “adult” of the bunch. At twenty-nine, I had left that life years ago when I’d agreed to support Jeff while he pursued a singing career.

I had worked all the time. He’d played music and partied. And since he’d left just six months after we’d moved from Milwaukee to Chicago, I’d had no time to make friends. Now I worked two full-time jobs and didn’t have the time or the dime to go out and meet new people. Eric was it... my one sort-of friend.

“Excuse me.” I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see the face attached to the voice.

A man about my age stood in front of me. Blonde streaked his light brown hair that he’d tousled into trendy spikes. His eyes, soft and brown, reminded me of the loyal Labrador, Barkley, who’d lived down the street during my childhood. He wasn’t as attractive as the man I’d seen earlier, though honestly, I’d never seen his equal. But this guy was well above average in the looks department. On top of his impressive looks, he also sported tailored designer clothes that fit his athletic build like they were custom made. He was walking style.

“Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you. I’m Mark Atwood.”

“Hi Mark,” I answered with hesitation in my voice. What does he want?

“This is going to sound terribly high school, but my friend would like to meet you.” He smiled, his eyes dancing with an almost childlike enthusiasm while he awaited my answer.

“That does sound very high school,” I responded, not sure whether to be flattered or annoyed. “Tell your friend I’m sorry to disappoint but I’m working.”

“He knows you’re very busy and on the clock. Here, he will happily pay for your time.” He pulled out a wallet and I noticed the Versace logo stamped into the smooth black leather.

Yep, walking style.

“Five hundred enough?” He fingered the hundreds that seemed to go on forever. My eyes widened as I eyed the wad of money.

“Five hundred? To talk?”

He nodded, seemingly unaware of his unusual request.

“Jesus! Take it!” Eric said, now leaning over the bar eyeing up the dough.

Glancing over my shoulder my eyes connected with Eric’s. My face asked for permission to take the money I really, really needed. His enthusiastic nodding said go for it.

“Five hundred. To talk. Here. In the bar.” I said it as more of a confirmation I wasn’t agreeing to leave with anyone.

“Great!” He slipped the money into my hand. I shoved it into my cocktail apron and pushed it down deep so it wouldn’t fall out. “This way.”

He placed his hand on the small of my back and guided me through the club to... wait a minute. We were going to the corner booth. To him. That incredible male specimen.

Him? He wants to talk to me?

I kept moving but my pace slowed. The Glamazons still preened in front of him, laughing too loud and talking with exaggerated hands in obvious attempts to get his attention. Why me? I wasn’t unattractive, but I certainly wasn’t of the caliber of those leggy thoroughbreds. They didn’t even have a dimple of cellulite. I hadn’t been able to say that since I put on ten pounds eating my weight in ice cream when Jeff left. Those girls were the ones he should talk to... not me.

Mark encouraged me forward. My eyes locked with the man in the booth.

Good God is he gorgeous. That’s not even right.

He stood up, one hand clasping the button on his grey designer suit shut while his other hand gestured to the padded leather chair across from him. I smoothed my black dress under my butt and slid down into the seat. He stared at me for a moment before slipping his coat button back open and sitting back down.

“Hello.”

Even his voice is beautiful. A deep tenor with a hint of grit. Not so deep he sounded like a muscle head, but deep enough he sounded all man.

“Hello,” I squeaked back.