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Mason seems to know.
For the next hour and a half, we play. Cash wins a hand and then Mason does. Bush finishes off the final round with another victory.
“Well, thanks for the fun, guys… but I should probably clean up.” I finish the beer I’ve been nursing for over an hour and rise from my chair.
The other guys sit around and grumble about whether to play again or call it a night. Everybody but Johnny votes on the latter.
I’m behind the counter washing shot glasses when he swaggers over, grinning ear-to-ear.
“Hey, beautiful,” he says. If possible, his grin widens even more. “The fun doesn’t have to stop now. I live a block away. When do you get off?”
“You must be crazy,” I joke with a light laugh. “I’m exhausted. The second I’m off, it’s bedtime.”
He leans over the bar counter, reeking of beer and whiskey. “That’s exactly what I was thinking, beautiful. Time in bed. You and me.”
I’ve dealt with drunken patrons before, working bars and clubs throughout college. The advice was always to keep it cute: smile, be polite but firm, and if that doesn’t work, call on the bouncers or security for the night.
The thing is, the Kings don’t have security, and I’m not sure I’d enlist them even if they did.
I’m still an outsider here. The last thing I need is to cause trouble.
So I keep it cute. I smile at Johnny and then divert my attention to the running water and shot glass in my hand.
“Ha, ha… you’ve got jokes. But I meant sleep, Johnny,” I say. “You have a good night though.”
He reaches across the bar counter, using his gangly arm to do so, and snaps his long fingers shut around my wrist. His grin remains, though it’s no longer innocent and inviting—there’s an irritation that’s hidden beneath.
“You like playing hard to get, don’t you?”
My smile falters. “Um… you’re kidding, right?”
“That’s what you’ve been doing from the moment you stepped foot in here,” he slurs. “Those little jean shorts you wear—you know we can all see that ass when you strut by. And those tits.”
His hazy eyes drop to my chest with zero discretion. He openlyleers.
So much that I want to wrap my arms around myself. His stare isn’t male appreciation. It’s a straight up violation.
Any politeness goes out the window.
My smile disappears. My pleasant tone vanishes.
I harden, taking on a stereotypical resting bitch face.
“Leave me the hell alone,” I say. “And don’t talk to me like that again. It’s disrespectful.”
He coughs out a laugh. “Disrespectful? DISRESPECTFUL!?”
He plants both hands on the counter and heaves himself up. In a quick motion he vaults over the bar counter like it’s nothing.
“You don’t get a say in what’s disrespectful when you’re dressed like a slut.”
My insides run cold. I take a precautionary step back as he advances. I keep the shot glass in hand. If he tries anything, I swear I’ll smash it and stab his ass.
But I’m also acutely aware of the fact that everybody else has left. Mick left half an hour ago after asking if I could finish close up, and the other guys from the poker game cleared out.
Johnny was the only one who stayed behind…
I swallow and decide to keep things simple for his drunken mind. “I’m not interested.”
