AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Juno spins around. “What the fuck did I do?”
“You whited out my name on the schedule and told Lisa I couldn’t work all next week. Are you crazy?”
“I only did that because Lisa told me you were pregnant and needed time off and asked to split the shift with me!”
“Pregnant? I had a hysterectomy, you slut! It’s just water weight! Lisa!”
“Shelly–give me my tips back!”
“It’s not my fault! Ricky stole mine, and I needed gas money to get home!”
I have about one and a half seconds to decide if I should slam my head into the counter and play dead or jump into this pack of lionesses and get it bitten off. Fuck it. I’m not getting in the middle of it. I’ve had enough of this crap.
I turn back to the register and pull the report to look at the numbers for the night. I look at it and do a double-take. What? Forty-eight hundred twenty-two dollars. FUCK. That’s barely half what we did last Saturday. But last Saturday was unusual. It was the first Saturday ever that we brought in over seven thousand. I feel like I’m going to vomit.
How in the ever-living fuck did we do less than half when we were kicking ass in the lounge?
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and see there’s a text:
(Mark)Hey bud, I know you usually can’t sleep right after closing shop. Any interest in meeting me for a drink? I was thinking Andrea’s.
Any interest? Hah. At this point, it’s a choice between a rock and a hard place. Or maybe just another rock, but at least that other rock isn’t a flock of wild women tearing each other's throats out and screaming like banshees. My response is immediate. I’m outta here.
(Me)Sure, Meet me in twenty?
Chapter 9
Jamie
Andrea’sDineristheonly place in this part of town with an after-hours license and is the go-to place for the bar scene after the clubs close. The place is packed, as is typical for a Saturday night… or… Sunday morning, rather, and the buzz of loud indistinct conversation fills the gentle blue neon lit atmosphere. There’s a party of four sitting at our usual table, so I scan the room, looking for Mark. I recognize several familiar faces, most of whom were shouting their orders to me at the bar for last call not even an hour ago. I don’t enjoy coming here after closing, for that reason. Last thing I want right now is the cacophony of the drunken club crowd. The low level solo piano music playing over the house speakers takes the edge off. At least I don’t have to deal with psycho Shelly beating up the girls.
I shuffle sideways past the crowd at the hostess stand, and I realize why Mark picked Andrea’s to meet. The crowd is younger, closer to college age. We have few mutual friends from our younger days, but most of the guys in here wouldn’t recognize me even if I had served them drinks personally a dozen times tonight.
Working my way to the back of the restaurant, I slide into the booth just as the server is leaving. Her name tag saysAllison. I recognize her from my lunch visits to Andrea’s.
“Hi Allison. Elijah Craig. Neat, please. Make it a triple,” I say.
“A triple? Rough night, huh?” She chuckles. “Welcome back.”
“Yeah. You have no idea.” I flash her a warm smile.
She winks at me and places a stiff laminated menu card on the table in front of me as I slide into the booth across from Mark. “I’ll be back in a couple minutes to take your order,” she says. Allison rushes off to take a breakfast order at a four top at the opposite wall.
“Hey Mark,” I say, picking up the menu. Andrea’s specialty is the steak and eggs, and she makes the best Belgian waffles in all of Houston. When I come here for lunch before opening, I usually order the waffles stuffed with Gorgonzola, Prosciutto, and toasted pine nuts. It’s too heavy at this time of night, so I scan the menu for something a bit lighter.
“Hi Jamie,” Mark replies. “Thanks for coming.” Mark’s shoulders are slumped, and he looks like shit. Dark rings accentuate the bags under his eyes as he attempts a wry smile.
“A triple kind of night, huh?” he continues.
I empty my lungs in an endless sigh as I lean back into the soft, cushioned corner of the booth. “Not good.” Mark snorts and I shake my head. “You remember what I said when I bought the club?”
A glimmer ignites in Mark’s eyes, momentarily camouflaging the dark rings as he lifts his hands into the air. “Ass and titties, ass and titties.” He pretends to motorboat a pair of breasts and I laugh, my shoulders relaxing as I get a rare glimpse of the playful Mark I haven’t seen in a long time.
I sigh. “Yeah, wish someone could have warned me what a shit show it would be.”
I regret my words as soon as they leave my mouth. Mark avoids direct eye contact and tips his glass to drain the last swig of beer from the bottle, setting the empty on the table next to three other empties. He sits across from me, quiet, a pensive gaze in his eyes as he stares past me into the crowded room.
Of all my high school and college buddies, only Mark recommended I reconsider my investment in the club. And unlike all my other “friends,” he never expected free lap dances, and was the only one who never experimented in the drug scene… and really, the only one who has stuck around.
