Shelby watched Jackson walk toward the bar, emptying her lungs slowly, steadily, then breathing deeply.
Be calm, stay cool. So far, so good.
She was proud of herself, being a little daring and a lot sexy. Lucas would have had a fit if he'd seen her. Tonight, her entire back was on display in a blouse that was so sheer, she should have worn a camisole under it but opted not to. She liked the look of the tiny black bra under the opaque print material. And with great results, since Jackson was practically drooling.
Since he was gone, Shelby could actually look around the club, admiring the feel and the energy. The music was great, loud but not overpowering. The seating was ample. The air was electricโPrince'sย Kissย soared out of the speakers and everyone in the place bobbed their heads and worked their hips and sang along. She'd missed this, being in the crowd, around people, absorbing the atmosphere made her reconsider getting some mousy library job or taking classes. She could go back to bartending, what she was doing when she met Lucas.
It was funnyโnot laugh, funny but peculiar funny how back then, tending bar was a means to an end. It was fun and it paid the bills. Evelyn and Roberto paid for tuition and books and fees at Miami University. They refused to pay room and board and they bought her a car but didn't cover the insurance. And of course, any entertainment was her expense.
She worked small time jobs, biding her time until she was legal. At twenty one years and one day, she walked into a bar, put in an application and started serving. It was love at first pour. Shelby ran her kingdom with two fistsโone gripping bottle of vodka, the other tequila. She loved when new people came in, eyeing her with a skeptical gaze like she'd never heard of their amazingly complicated and specific drink. And then, the raised eyebrow as they tasted it, cynicism turning into admiration.
A good drink equaled a good tip. Shelby had earned many a good tip.
Shelby always felt like she was behind though, robbing Peter to pay Paul to keep up a lifestyle she couldn't afford. She worked an upscale bar with sometimes wellโknown clientele. "The Look" was important, so as soon as money came in, it went to clothes and shoes and hair. Looking the part of the attractive, alluring bartender, singing the siren song of liquor.
Time was always a crunch and since she always had a paper due or a test to study for, a slow night was a double edged sword. She could catch up on schoolwork, but it took money out of her pocket. A packed bar, on the other hand, meant lots of money, but no time for homework. Falling behind meant she'd have to pay for school on her own. Adding several thousand dollars, several times a year in tuition and fees and books increased the already tremendous weight on her shoulders.
Enter Lucas Samuels. He was a nice man. An older gentleman, deep, smooth olive skin, eyes dark as midnight, distinguished salt-and-pepper hair and always a high end suit with shiny leather shoes. Some nights he came in after some stuffy function, loosened his tie, slid onto a seat at the bar and sat there until closing. Talking to her, listening to her bitch about how difficult her life was.
She saw now what she didn't see then. The trap.
Shelby blinked, bringing herself out of her trip down memory lane, nostalgia brought on by the scent of draft beer.
Time to live in the here and now.
Here and now, a man who was likely to try and get into her pants (at least she hoped, and he had a pretty good chance at succeeding) was on his way back to their table.
Here and now, a man who was likely to try and get into her pants (at least she hoped, and he had a pretty good chance at succeeding) was on his way back to their table.
Two shots with a slice of lime in one hand, two beers in the other.
"I don't normally do shots, but I hate the thought of you doing one alone, so I got one, too." The shots were lined up between them, the beers to the side for backup. Jackson slid into the booth across from her. His tongue flicked out of his mouth and lapped up a few drops of tequila from the palm of his hand. Imagining what that tongue could do elsewhere sent a twinge that twisted her insides like a vise.
"We should toast to something," Shelby suggested, lifting her glass. "What do you want to toast to?"
"Mmm. Good question." Jackson rubbed his hands together and rolled his eyes up, making a big show out of thinking. "So, you're new here, right? And I'm back in town after a long time away. Something weak, like new beginnings?"
If only he knew how meaningful that was. "That's not weak at all. It's appropriate, actually. New beginnings, fresh starts, new lives. Drink up."
The shot glasses made a thick clink as they connected. Together they licked the salt from the rims, tipped their heads back and let the liquor slide down their throats. Following was a wedge of lime, sucking down the sweetness, filtering the bite of alcohol and helping to quell the burn.
"Holy shit." Jackson blinked, taking a long drag off of a dark amber bottle of beer. "It's been a while. Whew." His face was slightly pink but he was grinning.
Shelby was, too. "Mmmm!" She hummed. "The inaugural shot is always good. It's been a long time. May need another one, soon."
Jackson winced, licking his lips, taking another sip off of his bottle. "A long time? How long? You're not an alcoholic, are you?"
"Me?" Shelby tried to make her eyebrows lower but they seemed to be stuck in surprise. "Hell, no. It's been... hmmmm...." Shelby thought back to the last time she had a drink. A real drink.
It had to have been the night the accident settlement was approved. That was a good night. She'd gone out that night, knowing that the next day would bring nasty, demanding and therefore unanswered phone calls from Lucas' family. She figured she'd better celebrate the hollow victory while she had the chance.
โLetโs just say Iโm long overdue," Shelby finally answered, feeling his stare.
"It's only been about a month, for me."
"Time for us both to catch up, then."
She picked up her bottle of beer and tapped it against his, then took a long sip.