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I raised my brows.
“Any time sweetheart. You feel tired, just pipe up. There’s plenty of room for relaxation, we’re not taskmasters cracking the whip.”
That wasn’t exactly true. We are demanding motherfuckers because there was only one succulent female. Fighting for her time and body was paramount, the girl on call 24/7.
But Joanie didn’t have to know. She was too happy right now, and I didn’t want to burst her bubble. Besides we’d meandered all the way to the Empire State in Midtown, the brunette craning her head back to look skywards.
“Oh wow,” she breathed, hugging the box of Nerds to her chest. “Just like the movies.”
And again, I was struck by just how different this girl is from the rest. Here we were, at a tourist trap, Joanie dressed in gray sweats carrying a giant box of candy. Any other woman would have insisted that I buy her a designer wardrobe first, and then wobbled around town in stilettos, complaining about the heat, crowds and pollution. Not Joanie. Not my girl.
But even more amazing was the brunette’s sense of wonder. That’s something I haven’t seen in a long time. A lot of folks in my line of business are jaded as fuck, they feel like they’ve seen everything. Maybe it’s because I’m from New York. Maybe it’s because they’re just jaded people period. But Joanie’s sense of awe was eye-opening, making my heart pump with renewed life, energy flowing into my veins.
“The Empire State!” she exclaimed again, face lifted to the spire. “Amazing! Come on, let’s get a bite.”
I laughed then, pulled along in her tow. Because in the bottom floor of the Empire State Building is a microbrewery slash gastropub, and evidently my girl was hungry.
As the doors closed behind us, I grunted.
“Dark in here,” was my comment.
Joanie flashed a smile over her shoulder.
“Not that dark,” she pointed out. “It’s seven p.m. now.”
I nodded. Evidently we’d been traipsing around the city for hours, but they’d gone by quick. I haven’t had such a good time since I was ten years old and practicing skateboard moves at the local park.
My girl smiled again, pulling me deeper into the crowd.
“Come on silly,” she laughed again. “It’ll be fun.”
And with that, we found ourselves spots at the bar. Or more accurately, there was only one seat at the very edge in back. So I let the brunette take it, my bulk looming behind that curvy form.
“Thank you,” she said, seating herself on the stool. “You’re very chivalrous,” she teased.
What the hell. Chivalrous is the last word I’d use to describe Nick North. But hey, everything was new today, even my gentlemanly manners.
“No prob,” I grunted, surveying the crowd. It was pretty packed already, people here for happy hour, talking loud and gesturing as three different football games played from three different flatscreens. Typical sports bar, fake wood paneling, harried servers scurrying about with heaping trays of fries and giant steins of beer.
And at that moment, the bartender appeared.
“Get you folks something?” he asked, face sweaty. I felt for the dude. Bartending during happy hour must be fucking stressful. Glad I didn’t have the job, since it probably only made minimum wage plus a couple tips.
“IPA,” was my grunt. “Sam Adams.”
The bartender nodded silently. “You?”
Joanie bit her lip for a moment.
“Just an iced tea please.”
And the man nodded, gone in an instant.
I turned to look at the brunette, brow raised.
“Sweetheart, what’s with the iced tea?” I drawled. “You dry for some reason? What’s going on?”
Joanie blushed, biting her lip again.
