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I shrugged a shoulder and set the tray back down. "Sure, Mac."
His weird look hadn't left his weathered face, and he was fidgeting with the bar rag he was holding. The way he was acting started to make me nervous, and I stiffened with apprehension, wondering if he was planning on firing me. Maybe they didn't need so many waitresses, and as the most recent hire, I was the one most likely to be let go. I knew it wasn't because of my performance. I was damn good at my job, mostly because I actually did it. Unlike most of the others, I didn't spend the whole night trying to flirt with one of the bikers. I couldn't even understand why the girls would. They were mostly old men who were overweight and looked like they could barely hold a motorcycle up anymore.
"Listen, new girl—"
Whatever Mac had been about to say in his nervous agitation was cut off when Meg, a cute little brunette, came running in through the front door. Her uniform barely covered her assets, the shirt showing a whole lot of underboob from the hack job she had given it. Her eyes were excited, and I had never seen her look so animated. Usually, all I got from her were sneers and a cold shoulder.
"They're here!"
As one, everyone stood up straighter, and the old bikers that hung around the bar night after night held up their beer bottles and yelled as if their favorite football team had just made the winning touchdown. It was then that I finally realized only bikers were in the bar that night. Not a single other person without a patch or server uniform was in sight.
Startled, I turned back to Mac to ask him what was going on when I heard it.
Dozens of motorcycle engines.
ChapterThree
SALLY
That weird feeling that had been buzzing through the bar's atmosphere started to get stronger and was no longer possible to ignore. I started feeling it myself as I watched everyone in the bar straighten their shoulders, fix their hair and makeup, and share nervous glances. I had no idea what would be coming through the doors, but based on everyone's reactions, I wasn't sure I would like it. In fact, I was itching to run out the back door.
I turned back to Mac with wide eyes on the verge of panic to see him staring at me. He gave me a shrug and a chin lift as if to say, "Good luck, new girl. You're on your own now." I had to fight back a glare, pissed that he was throwing me to the wolves with no warning. I didn't even know what was happening or what I would be facing in the next few minutes. He could at least have given me some kind of heads-up that something would be happening tonight.
I debated with myself for a few long minutes as, one by one, motorcycle engines shut off, the thunderous sound of all those engines dying away into the night. I watched as Daisy, a gorgeous girl with bright pink hair who hated me on sight, continued to primp, plumping up her breasts and arranging her top, making sure the sparse fabric barely covered her nipples at all. She tugged on her shorts, and I couldn't hold back a wince as she gave herself a wedgie. Sure, it made her legs look even longer but was the uncomfortable sensation of having fabric flossing your asshole really worth it?
Suddenly, the front door flew open, and I knew I had wasted precious time I could have been using to escape. As I watched, men began pouring through the door like bugs swarming through a crack in the foundation. Cheers went up from everyone inside the bar, and the bikers entering pounded their fists on the tables as they passed.
Some of them went toward the pool tables in the back. Some found tables to sit at. Several crowded in around the bar, forcing me to step back until I was hiding in the back corner by the hallway. It was a good position to watch from. I was able to stare at the sight of at least thirty men openly. All were dressed similarly in jeans and black leather vests. There were subtle differences; some were wearing leather pants while others wore black jeans, but all of them had the same large patch on the back of their vests. The embroidered skeleton with a large full moon in the background was sinister looking, but I couldn't deny that it was pretty fantastic artwork. Whoever had come up with the design was very talented.
A giggle from the opposite side of the bar caught my attention, and I wasn't surprised to see that Daisy was being felt up by a biker. The man had bright green hair and a broad smile on his face, showing lots of teeth as he shoved his hand up her top, clearly palming her naked breasts.
With flaming cheeks, because I had not wanted to see that display, ever, I turned my head only to see a tall, slender man with a devilish grin bending one of the other servers over a table and palming her crotch through the thin shorts that made up our uniforms She certainly didn't seem to mind the attention as she let out a loud squeal of delight, encouraging the biker to do more than I was prepared to see.
Suddenly, a lot more girlish squeals came from the front, and I watched as every single server I had worked with at one point or another over the last couple of weeks came through the doorway. There were a few other women, too, I hadn't seen before. The newcomers weren't wearing a uniform like the rest of us who had come to work that night. Instead, they were dressed in outfits that were even skimpier, if that were possible. One wore a short blue sequin dress that barely covered her ass and started at the top of her areolas. Another was wearing jeans and a tank top, but the top was basically see-through, and her denim shorts had so many cuts and tears in the fabric that it revealed more than it covered. It looked like the group was ready to party.
I glanced over toward Mac for answers. I was confused, anxious, and even a little angry that I hadn't been warned. Based on how quickly the girls had arrived, everyone but me knew that the motorcycle club would be returning home, but no one had thought to tell the new girl. That could be what was Mac's problem earlier. Perhaps he was going to tell me what to expect, but too little, too late. He was frantically grabbing beers by the handfuls from the cooler behind him, so, with a sigh, I dipped under the hatch where I was standing to pitch in.
He gave me a tight smile as I leaned in to help, grabbed four bottles at once, and handed them over. He hesitated slightly but knew he couldn't turn down the help while we were so busy. Together, we were able to get a beer in everyone's hands before anyone could get too upset. As soon as the beers had been handed out, Mac immediately started pouring glasses of whisky. Instead of beginning tabs and checking who the drinks were going to the way it usually went on a regular night, hands just snatched up the glasses as quickly as he could pour them.
"Start filling up glasses with draft beer, will ya, new girl?" he shouted over the raucous laughter and yelling coming from the crowd. Someone had turned up the hard rock that was coming from the speakers in the corners of the ceiling, making it even harder to hear. The whole place was chaotic, and my nerves were making me jittery.
I could do nothing but nod, all at once glad to be behind the bar instead of having to thread my way through the crowd to serve drinks. In the brief glances I'd managed to take between grabbing bottles of beer, it didn't look like any of the girls were actually serving drinks. I turned away quickly after one particular look around. I was positive that I had seen Stephanie, one of the nicer girls I had worked with a few times already, being pounded from behind as she was held down by the back of her head against the green felt of one of the pool tables.
If I had to place a bet on it, I was certain that every single one of the other girls was probably getting railed, too, or was well on her way to it.
Glass after frosty glass, I pulled beer straight from the tap, trying to remember what I had seen Mac do when he had filled my orders. I was sure I was filling the glasses up with too much foam, but I couldn't help it. I tried angling the glass more, but it didn't seem to be helping. I tried filling it a bit slower, but that took too long, and I didn't think the foam was any smaller than before with that method, either. In the end, I just said fuck it and filled the mugs as quickly as I could without making too much of a mess and ensuring at least half the glass was beer instead of foam.
"Too much head!"
I ignored the yell, knowing that I was screwing it up. But I was doing my best with no prior training and filled the next glass before thunking it down on the wooden bar top and sliding it away. I twisted to the side to pull another mug from the cooler, noting how low the stock was getting.
"Hey, bitch! Did you fucking hear me?"
The name calling caught my attention. I looked up with startled eyes to see some guy standing in front of me with an angry snarl on his face. When I felt the coldness of beer begin to pour over my fingers, I jumped and looked down to see the glass I was currently filling was overflowing.
"Damn it!" I looked around, unsure what to do, but I realized that the glass had less foam in it than all the others I had already filled. With triumph at my victory, I smiled wide, set the glass down on the bar top, and pushed it toward the man who had been yelling at me, sure that a fresh glass of beer would help calm him down.
Unfortunately, instead of making him happy to get a free mug of ice-cold beer, he just looked even angrier. I looked down in confusion. Yes, the glass was covered in spilled beer, but who the fuck cared about that? It was free beer! The foam was actually nearly absent. I would have thought he would be happy with it.
