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For the first time in her life, Erin envisioned a world of potential, of possibility. A universe where she didn’t live in a flea-ridden apartment building and slept in a bed that didn’t smell. Erin wanted to dance all night long. The heavy bass pounding within called to her. Maybe after she’d be ready to sleep?
Bono stood outside the door, eyeing her approach with caution. “Hey now, Lola,” he held up his hands, waving her off, “you know I can’t let you in. Charlie done kicked you out.”
Bono was a hulk of a man, but he was also super sweet. “It’s Erin now. And I’m not here to get you in trouble, Bono. I want you to work for me. Whatever you’re making now, consider it doubled.”
He stepped back and looked at her askance. “What are you talking about? You got a bar now?”
“Fine. I’ll triple whatever you’re making.”
“You do that. How can I refuse?” he shook his head, letting out a chortle. “How’d this miracle happen?”
A slow grin crept across Erin’s face. “I’ve got a backer. We’re gonna take over this town. It’s a brave new world.”
He shook his head, laughing with his whole heart. “All right,Erin. Whatever you say, girl. You come up with some magic club and the salary to match, then I’m all yours.”
“Awesome. Now that I’ve got the best muscle in the city, I can worry about the rest of what I’ve got to get done. C’mon, let me in. I need to hire some gals and free them from Charlie. And dance. I’m definitely needing some good grooves.”
Charlie placed his hand on her shoulder, gently blocking her movement. “Whoa, I said I can’t let you in! Charlie will just kick you right out, and he’ll fire me for letting you in.”
“We’ve covered this; you already have a new gig, working for yours truly.”
Bono frowned and pulled his arm back. He crossed his arms, squaring his shoulders to her. “You can’t be serious about that. And you know they’re looking for you, right? You’d do better to lie low for a while and let your spat with Daniel blow over.”
“Oh, wait, is he here now?” Erin imagined punching Daniel in the nose again. He totally needed another broken nose.
“Not now, but he was by earlier, talking with Charlie, asking about you. I guarantee if you go in there, Charlie will call him.”
“Suits me fine,” Erin replied. “Now open the door, Bono.” He sighed and ran a hand over the back of his shaved head. “I’m a big girl. Don’t you worry about me.”
Bono exhaled hard. “I hope you know what you’re doing.” He pulled open the door and ushered her in.
Erin patted his arm as she passed, hoping to assuage his anxiety. The heavy beat echoed in her blood, filling an unspoken need within her psyche. Music had always been this way for her. She moved onto the dance floor, ignoring the stolen glances and wide eyes of the servers. A couple of other patrons were dancing, but they cleared out with her arrival.
Erin lost herself in the music, gyrating and rocking to the beat. After a couple of songs, she looked up, wondering why Charlie hadn’t confronted her yet. There he stood at the end of the dance floor, between her and the door, texting frantically on his cell phone. When he looked up and caught her gaze, a sadistic smile flashed across his face.
Bono hadn’t been kidding; they were waiting for her. She continued to dance, burning off a thread of anxiety building in her gut. What if Bono was right? What if she was in over her head?
What if she’d lost her mind, and the whole talk with Dionysos was just some stress-filled delusion? Then she thought back to when she got tossed out after trouncing Daniel and couldn’t help suppressing a full belly laugh. Nope, somehow this was all actually happening.
Songs ticked by, and Erin grew impatient. There was nothing worse than getting all riled up for a confrontation just to be stuck on hold. She fluffed up the sweat-dampened, curly hair at her nape and sauntered over to the bar, barely glancing at Charlie.
“Hey Mick, how goes?” Erin set her handbag on the table after pulling out a hundred-dollar bill. “Get me a bottle of Old Vine Zinfandel? Cause shit’s gonna get serious, and I’ve gotta power up.”
“You’re crazy, you know? I have nothing like that.” He leaned on the bar, looking down at her.
“Look. Again. Please,” she enunciated slowly, forcing a broad smile.
He rolled his eyes and made a show of looking around at the bottles of mostly vodka, gin, and rum on the shelves behind the counter. He halted. “What the shit?” he murmured, picking up a bottle of Old Vine Zin from behind the gin.
“I hate to break it to you, but with that lack of faith and attitude, I don’t see you being on my team.” Erin pushed the bill across the bar to him.
Mick pulled the cork on the bottle. “I’m crying already.” He set it on the bar and pushed it across to her.
“Oh, you will,” Erin replied.
“You graduating to using glassware?” he asked, offering her a glass.
“I’m good with my adult sippy cup, thanks.” Erin held the bottle to her nose and breathed in the jammy, peppery aroma. Taking a sip, the wine delivered with a spicy, bold flavor, coating her tongue with intense fruit flavor, filling her senses. She took a longer pull on the bottle, appreciating the potent, bold draught.
