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“How long has he been here?” Coty asks.
“Less than a song,” I respond.
In fact, said song starts winding down, Lace crawls toward Burke, and he curls a finger at her. She leans her face in close to his, he whispers something in her ear, she straightens, and he slips a bill into her g-string.
“That fucker did not just pay her for a private dance before she could even get off stage.”
I mask a smile, rubbing my hand over my mouth and down my jaw. “Appears he did.” Coty has hated Burke for years. No logical reason, really. Just because he can. The strangest part is that word on the street says Burke stopped coming completely after Rachal died. This is definitely the first time anyone has spotted him inside the saloon during Bike Week at least. I wonder what brings him in now?
“Lace said something about a girl who rides a Duc that has been hanging around with his crew. Maybe she will put out,” Coty mumbles, absently.
Lace collects her clothes and saunters off the stage, immediately walking around to Burke, much to the dismay of every other guy who had invested in watching her up close.
The two disappear into the private dancing area. Coty straightens like a board, and his fist slams the table top just as the waitress is approaching. The clatter has her jerking to a wobbly stop, eyes widening and darting toward a bouncer.
Coty pays no mind to her, though. He shoots to his feet, takes a breath, tugs on the hem of his hoodie, and attempts to walk away toward the private dance area with even, normal steps, hands fisted in his pockets instead of at his side. Coty really has come a long way over the years, but he is still super keyed up. Even more so thanks to the cell phone video ordeal this morning.
I hold my hand out to the waitress and wave for her to give me the drink instead. When she does, I tip her generously and give her a reassuring smile. She spins on her heels and walks to the next customer. I stand up, drink in hand, and make my way over toward him should the situation call for damage control.
As expected, he’s just acting like an overheated steam engine, leaning against the private room entrance, arms crossed, watching as Burke and Lace sit side by side on the couch. The bouncer is gone. Coty took his place.
I hand over his water. He takes it, only sparing me a partial glance before returning his attention to Lace and Burke to watch, fuming, while Burke whispers stuff in her ear.
Lace puts her stage outfit back on slowly, one item at a time, her expression stoic while she pays close attention. In fact, her eyes go a little out of focus as she appears to really absorb whatever is being said. Then she blinks to clear her thoughts, adjusts to face him, and engages in the conversation. Burke’s face changes from delivering news to… what the hell is that expression? Coyness?
Coty notices it the same time I do, and our eyes dart to each other. Even from here, a peal from Lace can be heard, snapping our attention back toward them. She curls her fingers around his, giving them a squeeze.
This next part I can actually make out now that their heads have separated enough for me to see her lips better. “I am so happy for you.”
Clapping Coty on the shoulder, I jostle him and say, “Maybe you were right about that girl with the Duc. And you still refuse to believe in her Universe.” I tsk, laugh, and walk away.
