Chapter Six
The club was packed like it always was on Saturday nights. We had a part-time bartender named Tommy who came in on weekends when the place was jumping, and we'd been flairing a little to get better tips. We didn't do it so much that it slowed service, but enough to make it fun and hype people up. It was kind of like a game and really wasn't that difficult, but it required a lot of practice to be really good and fast at it. I wasn't all that fast, but I had fun with it and the bosses didn't mind us doing it.
I'd learned the basic flair techniques in my first job years ago at Gio's in Orlando, right after high school. I worked as a barback, and the bartender was a nice guy who taught me some tricks in the slow times. Once the various techniques were learned, practice made the moves faster and showier. There were icing techniques, pouring techniques and a lot of flipping and tossing bottles and tins around and catching them behind our backs. Not only glasses and bottles were used, but bar equipment, too, like scoops and mixing tins, and the great thing about using tins was that they were pretty much unbreakable.
Even after I started as a bartender, I kept the tossing around to a minimum, but I loved to do the long pours and palm spins. And because Tommy and I liked the tips, we sometimes flirted a little too. It was harmless enough and again the bosses didn't seem to mind. We got catcalled and hit on a lot, but it was all in good fun. Most of our customers wore boots and leather pants or vests over naked flesh, and a few were wearing almost nothing at all, with only their genitals covered, according to mandatory city ordinances. Some were wearing collars or slave harnesses, so we really weren't doing anything that extreme by just leaving off our shirts.
The combined aroma of cologne, liquor and arousal filled the air with wicked promises that particular Saturday evening, and I took a deep breath of it as I looked out over the crowded room and prepared myself for the night. People had crowded into the large main lounge and jockeyed for positions at the bar. We were doing a good business that evening, though many of the Doms and subs weren't drinking this early in the evening, sticking mostly to sodas and water. We had a lot of mixed concoctions that weren't alcoholic, though, and we were doing a lot of business with them, along with bar food.
When I had a moment, I looked out over the small dance floor, noticing how the music was pulsing in time with the colored lights. It was only eight o'clock, but people had been streaming into the club for a couple of hours, and I knew it was going to be a busy night. Even better for tips.
My partner at the other end of the bar, Tommy, had been doing palm spins and thumb rolls all night, even a few double rotations on bottles and glasses, catching them behind his back and spinning around, and the crowd loved it. I wouldn't try that just yet, but I joined in a little with some flashy pours. Unlike a lot of crowds, the ones there that night didn't just sit and watch. They shouted and clapped and threw money on the bar in excitement that was contagious and fun. And excellent for my tip jar.
If it seemed like I talked a lot about tips, I guess I did. I was way far in debt, especially since I'd had to come up with deposits and moving expenses, so busy nights like this one really helped me out a lot. Tommy gave me a nod that meant he wanted to start flairing together, which would consist of us flipping things back and forth to each other using the one hand, backward catches that were so popular, and the next fifteen minutes or so would take all of my concentration. I glanced over at Tommy, catching his eye and letting him know I was ready.
I'd been getting cruised hard since the bar opened, as had Tommy, but so far no one had been obnoxious about it when we smilingly dodged their advances.
Tommy gave me a signal he was about to start tossing things my way, and I got myself in position. We waited patiently with our hands on the bar for the next order. When a man called for me at the end of the bar, I went over to him and leaned in to take his order for a gin fizz. I grabbed a glass, gave it a little palm spin and sat it on the bar while reaching for the gin. Making sure Tommy was ready, I flipped the bottle toward him behind my back. Tommy caught it, and then he spun around to give it a long pour in a tin before he bounced it so fast that not a drop spilled out.
Meanwhile, I was icing the glass, putting most of the ice inside in the normal manner, but then catching the last couple of ice cubes with showy flips in the air. Tommy added the mixers to his tin, poured it in a shaker and slid the shaker down the bar to me. I gave it an elaborate shake then poured most of the drink in the glass with another bounce and threw in a garnish from behind my back, catching it in the glass and placing it in front of the customer with a flourish.
It was simple stuff, but everybody clapped and cheered good-naturedly, and I felt a little glow of happiness that lasted right up until I glanced down toward the end of the bar. Sitting there, unsmiling and grim, his eyes darkly flashing, was none other than Michael fucking Bradley.
What the hell? I did a double take and even stumbled a little as I saw him sitting there. It had been a year and a half since I'd seen him, and I'd never thought I'd see him again and had to make sure I wasn't imagining things. But no, there he was, and he didn't look all that happy to see me. Tommy noticed me looking a little shaken and came over right away.
"What's wrong? You went pale as a sheet."
"I-I don't know. Nothing." But I couldn't help a glance back down at Michael, who was still watching me with glittering eyes.
"Did Mr. Bradley say something?"
I turned around to stare at him. "You know him?"
"Well, yeah, sure. He's one of the owners."
I was shocked, but played it off pretty well, I thought. I shook my head. "I didn't know. I never met any of them before or know any of their names."
"Well, okay, like I said, that's Michael Bradley. He's one of the owners, and he's a Dom, but he doesn't come in too regularly. I think he lives here in Ft. Lauderdale now, but he hasn't been here that long. He usually comes in midweek, on your day off. That's probably why you haven't seen him. He's not dressed to play tonight. Are you sure he didn't say anything to you? He looks a little pissed off."
"He didn't say a word. Why?"
He shrugged. "Some of the bosses don't like it when we flair. That could be it. They say we're too busy, but then others do like it, so you just never know. Maybe we should cool it for now since he's giving us that look."
"Fine by me. I can't do anything while he's glaring at me anyway. Does he really look pissed off to you?"
"Yeah, a little and it's not like him, really. He's usually nice, but one of the strict ones. He's never said anything before, but... Do you want to switch sides of the bar with me? Get away from him?"
I almost said yes, but then I thought, no, why should I? I haven't done anything wrong. "No, it's okay. If he has something to say to me, then he can just say it."
Tommy got called away then and I kept serving drinks, trying not to pay any attention to that end of the bar. It didn't work for long though, and soon someone called to me.
"Hey, can I get a refill down here?"
I looked up and nodded, finished what I was doing and hurried back down to the other end of the bar. I took care of the customer and then glanced over at Michael, who was still staring steadily back at me. He was only inches away, so I decided to be the adult and be polite.
"Hello," I said. "Nice to see you again."
"Is it?"
I was a little surprised at what I thought was a belligerent tone. He was the one who'd decided he'd had enough of me after that one date, so why was he acting pissed off?
"The name is Cruz Martin, in case you forgot."
"I remember," he said softly, frowning at me, and I got a funny feeling in my chest. I rubbed at it absently and I wished I was anywhere but there at that bar.
"What are you doing here, Cruz?" Michael asked, dropping his voice low enough that only I could hear him.
Amazingly, his expression was…not angry, but tense, like he thought he might not like the answer I had. Or that's what I imagined, anyway.
"I'm working, obviously."
"Look Cruz, I thought I made things clear the last time we saw each other, but I guess you didn't understand. You're a good-looking young man, but I have no further interest in you. We played once and it was fun. Period. I never play with the same sub twice, or rarely ever, anyway. So, if you've come here for this job, thinking that maybe I'd notice you or that I was going to…"
I laughed out loud, stopping Michael in mid-sentence.
"What's so damn funny?"
"You are. If you think I came here to see you again, then you have a lot of nerve. I had no idea you were one of the owners. And if I'd never seen you again, it would have been too soon for me."
I became hyper aware of how hard my heart was thumping in my chest. This close to him, I could smell his cologne, somehow familiar after all this time. Sultry, with a hint of musk—it made my knees shaky. Seriously, was that for real? I'd always heard that expression about feeling weak in the knees, but thought it was an exaggeration. Apparently, not so much.
I cleared my throat and then I heard myself say the last thing I ever thought I would. "Why? Isn't that okay?"
I could have kicked myself. What was I doing—asking his permission to work? He stared steadily back at me and thank goodness he ignored my question. Mostly. Instead, he looked directly at me and said, "You're not here looking for me?"
Looking for him ? The question struck me as funny, like I was some crazy stalker. I laughed again.
"For you? No, I had no idea you were one of the owners here. I was looking for a job, and this one became available. That's it."
"I see. So, you've left your home in Orlando to come all the way down here just for a job?"
"It's not exactly an epic journey, but yeah. So what? I'm working for a while to earn money to maybe go back to school. Besides, I like the beach."
"Okay."
Awkward. I stood there shifting my feet for a few seconds and then shrugged. "Well, I guess I need to get back to work, unless I can get you a drink."
"No. Go ahead."
I felt awkward and stood there for another second or two, feeling like I should say more, like I needed his damn permission. But that was stupid even though I'd just fucking asked for it. I nodded and went back over toward Tommy. His eyes were big and curious, but I shook my head at him and shrugged. We were getting busier, and we both needed to take care of customers.
Somehow, I got through the rush, and Michael left a few minutes later. It was a couple of hours after that when I noticed my supervisor, Toby, motioning to me. I went over to him, my feet dragging a little. His words confirmed my fears.
"Hey Cruz, Mr. Bradley would like to speak to you in the office."
I must have gone a little pale, because he shook his head right away and said, "I'm sure you're not in trouble or anything. He just wants a quick word."
I told Tommy where I'd be and headed toward the office. Standing outside the door, I could hear a couple of voices inside, so I knocked softly, feeling like I was interrupting. The door opened suddenly and Jerry, the club manager and the guy who'd hired me stepped past me with a smile.
"Hi, Cruz. You can go in. He's waiting for you."
I took a deep breath and stepped inside. He was sitting behind the desk, his jacket off and his tie loosened. He had a lot of paperwork spread out on the desk in front of him, so he'd obviously been working. He looked tired and rumpled and altogether gorgeous. Just looking at him made me wonder why I ever thought we could have a relationship beyond a one-night stand. Hell, even that was a total gift. He was way out of my league.
He leaned back in his chair and looked me over in that way that Doms have of not just looking at you but inspecting you. I don't think they're even aware of it all the time, but I'd noticed it a lot since I'd been at the club.
I tried to remember if he'd ever brought up the fact that the club he owned was a BDSM club during that first date, and I honestly didn't think he had. I remembered asking what he did for a living, and he'd said he was part owner in a nightclub, and that was it. I knew he hadn't mentioned that he had a club down in Ft. Lauderdale, and I wondered if that was new or if this club had been recently acquired. Or at least since that long ago pool party in Orlando. Maybe I should have been more curious about him then, but I'd been so struck by how attractive he was, I'd never asked many questions. And he'd never volunteered the information.
"How have you been, Cruz?"
"Not too bad."
"It's been a while."
"Yes."
"And do you enjoy working here?"
"Yes."
He leaned forward and gave me a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Is that all I'm getting? Just yes? Nothing else you want to say?"
I shrugged. "What else is there? Look, we had some fun. We went out and you never called me afterward. That's it."
"Well, not quite. I thought we made a connection."
"Yeah, but so what? No big deal, right?"
His lips tightened almost imperceptibly, but I was so hyper-focused on his every move that I noticed it right away.
"It wouldn't have been, except for the fact that I was under the impression you were of legal age that night. But I see on your employment records that you've only turned twenty-one a month before we hired you. That means you weren't of legal age the night we spent together."
"I was legal enough. I never said how old I was, and I don't recall anyone asking."
He flushed, and stared at me, trying to make me nervous, I guess. It was working.
I shrugged again and lifted my chin. "Besides, I was almost twenty, and I'd been on my own since I was seventeen."
"Are you saying you didn't lie about your age?"
"Only by omission. And okay, a fake ID when I worked for Gio's. But once I came here, I was plenty old enough. And maybe you should have asked more questions if you were so bothered. Instead, you just took what you wanted—and so did I. It's in the past now anyway. Why are you bringing all this up?"
"I don't like liars, Cruz."
I jumped to my feet and glared at him, feeling my heart racing. I really needed this job, but I wasn't going to take his shit. "There's no need for name calling, and I never lied to anyone."
"What about your employer at the time? At Gio's."
"How is that your concern? I needed the job, so yeah, I lied. But I didn't lie to you or on my application to this place."
"Please sit back down, Cruz. You're right—I'm mostly angry at myself."
I shrugged. None of this was my problem, so I hoped he wouldn't make it my problem. He looked angry that I dared to talk back to him. Well, I wasn't one of his subs.
"I think there was a lot of lying going around that night," I couldn't resist saying.
"If that remark was directed at me, I never lied to you," he replied, not raising his voice, but then he didn't have to. "I never made you any promises."
"Sure. No big deal. It was a one-night stand. I get that. I never said a word about it to anyone, and I never would, so if you're worried about your reputation, or…"
"No," he said, looking exasperated. "I'm not worried about anything."
"Are you firing me then?" I raised my chin as I said it, feeling defiant. I thought my expression must be perfect, Just the right combination of defiance and high dudgeon. Or it would have been, if not for that little wobble in my voice.
He looked surprised. "What? No, I…"
"Then I need to get back to work. Sir . We're busy tonight. If you don't have any other concerns."
He stared at me for a long moment and then nodded. "No. Go ahead, then. Your audience is no doubt waiting."
I turned on my heel and went to the door, but he stopped me with my hand on the doorknob.
"Wait. There is one more thing, after all."
"Yes?" I said, turning back to him.
"Put your damn shirt on," he said, frowning at me. "Tell Tommy to wear his too. We're not running a striptease show here, and that's not the look I want for the bar. You can advertise on your own time."
"Yes, Sir ," I said, biting my lip and just barely stopping myself from firing off a little salute, because I really did need this job. Maybe I snapped out that "Sir," a little hard, but it wasn't too noticeable, I thought. I hoped. Without waiting for his reply, I turned and left in a hurry, and went back to the bar to let Tommy know we'd been busted, and our fun for the night was officially over.