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I couldn’t leave. I needed the tips and the hours and Smithie would lose his mind.
I couldn’t stay because Eddie was there and he was going to see me in my Smithie’s uniform and that did not bear thinking about.
“I know him,” I told Tanya.
“You do? Who is he?”
“Pour a beer on him, turn the table on him. Something, anything to get him to leave,” I begged.
“Is he bad news?” she asked, looking toward the table.
“Don’t look!” I cried, grabbing her face by the chin and making her look at me.
“He hurt you or something?” she asked between smushed lips and I let her face go.
“No. He’s just…I…shit!”
I had to do it. I was in a slut outfit and Eddie was there. As fast as I could, I told her my life story, leaving out bits and skipping over bits, but essentially telling her about my confidence problem, my crush and what had been happening the last few months.
“What’s wrong with you?” Tanya asked, staring at me like I lost my mind. “Get in there, girl.”
“You don’t understand,” I said.
“No, I don’t and I’m not pouring a beer on him, although I’d like to see that T-shirt on him wet. You look fantastic in that outfit and you shouldn’t be ashamed of that. Your new hair is killer and he’s obviously here to see you, ’cause it’s clear he isn’t interested in what’s onstage. So, he should see you.”
“Tanya.”
“Un-unh.” She shook her head, gave me a “talk to the hand” gesture, grabbed her tray and strutted away.
Wonderful.
I got my drinks order and spent the next hour hiding from Eddie by walking far out of my way, putting people between us. I didn’t even look in his direction, although that took a superhuman effort.
I was at the bachelor party, having unloaded another tray of drinks on them when I turned and chanced a glance at Eddie’s table. It was now filled with four guys drinking beer, staring at the stage and adjusting their crotches.
I breathed a sigh of relief. Eddie was gone.
Thank God.
I was about to go toward the bar but stopped.
Eddie was leaning on the bar.
I had no time to react because he began to scan the room, looked past me, then his head snapped back and his eyes locked on me. Even in the dim light, I saw his brows draw together and he straightened away from the bar.
I realized then how I’d avoided him. It was the hair. He’d probably seen me but didn’t know who I was.
“Damn,” I whispered.
At that moment, my luck, never good, turned nasty.
I felt a hand go from the back of my knee, up my thigh, nearly to my miniskirt.
I whirled around.
“No hands!” I snapped to Bachelor Number One, the one I’d clocked as the one to watch. He had greedy eyes and at first sight I didn’t like him.
“Hey, babe, why aren’t you up there?” He motioned to the stage. “You’d be shit-hot up there.”
