EVELYN—
There were times I ran on caffeine and adrenaline. I glanced at my phone to check the time: 9:48 p.m. Bridget told me before I even started a year ago that the spring and summer months were going to be the busiest. I was unprepared the first time around. This year I knew what to expect. Sometimes it really was all about work. My twice-canceled plans with Callie since the funeral last month was proof of that. Luckily, she was always understanding. Good fortune was also on my side that I didn’t have to balance a boyfriend along with everything else. My life, with career first, was designed around my dreams. I created it that way ever since I learned how much of a distraction men were anywhere outside of the bedroom.
I was finishing up addressing invitations for an NHL player’s upcoming wedding when it all became very ironic. My ideal job and formulated social life was all thanks to the incredibly hot but very intense hockey player I dated in high school through my freshman year of college. Patrick wasn’t a bad guy. We were bad together. It wasn’t love, but rather an obsession that led to us shutting out the rest of the world. Learning young that when life revolves around a man you don’t have room for much else was a retrospective gift.
Bridget poked her head out of her office. “How many do you have left to do?” she asked.
I checked my spreadsheet and color coded the ones I had marked as done. “Seven more.”
“Okay. When you’re done, we’ll go over the itinerary for the Miller wedding on Saturday.”
“All right.”
It was nearing the end of April, and things were already in full swing.
“Hey. I have an idea,” she said, leaning on my desk. “How about when we’re done tonight I take you out for drink?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you have other plans?”
I considered telling her I had plans with my Friends DVD box set, but I wasn’t ready for that kind of truth, especially to my boss.
“Nope. No plans.”
“Great,” she said, walking back to her office. The door was almost closed before she stuck her head out again. “Oh, and Evelyn? This place where I’m taking you is very—what is the word for it?—intimate.”
“Intimate?”
What did that mean?
“It’s very exclusive,” she explained. “You’ll see when we get there.”
It was close to eleven p.m. by the time we were headed out to get our much-needed cocktail. The stress of the day weighed heavily on my shoulders, and I hoped that after one drink, I could get home to unwind. Most importantly it’d include me taking off my bra and heels.
“Should I get a cab or I can drive if you want?” I asked as we exited the building.
Bridget adjusted her white raincoat, tying it tight across her small waist. “No need. We’re just going around the block. Actually, on the opposite side of the building.”
I followed her as we walked toward the corner. “I didn’t even know there was a bar on that side. I thought it was offices and the deli.”
She stopped, turning to look at me. “That’s what most people think,” she said with a wink.
We continued along the side of the building and turned when we reached the next corner. Bridget stopped on a neon-orange spray-painted star on the ground. It was odd, but then again, so was Chicago.
“Come stand next to me,” Bridget said, waving me over.
I stepped next to her, as she pointed her finger to the ground. “Twenty-eight from the star,” she said.
“Huh?”
“The orange star. Count twenty-eight steps forward from standing on the middle of the star.”
I stepped alongside her, stopping when we reached twenty-eight. Bridget pivoted and approached the side of the building. As she ran her hand along the brick exterior, I wondered if she was just overworked and in need of a good sleep. None of this made any sense at all.
Her hand stopped on a wooden panel that blended in with the bricks. She knocked three times and stepped back, fluffing her hair as she did. A door, seamlessly hidden, opened and a handsome man, who appeared to be in his early thirties with short, curly brown hair dressed in a dark suit, appeared.
“Well, hello there, Bridget,” he said. He held the door open and stepped aside to let us pass.
She walked in, with me close behind, and gave the doorman a playful tap. “Long time no see, Tyler.”
I looked around, trying to gauge my surroundings, because this was, in fact, not a bar. All I saw was darkness. A hum of music buzzed around us, and my feet vibrated against the concrete floor. Bridget was standing close and talking softly to Tyler before she looked my way.
“This is Evelyn, and she is wonderful at keeping secrets.”
I raised my eyebrows at her. Secrets? What kind of secrets? Where has she taken me?
“Fantastic,” Tyler said. He reached his hand out to shake mine. “Very nice to meet you. Let me take your coats.”
We handed them to Tyler who opened an expansive cherrywood armoire that was hidden behind eggplant-colored velvet drapes and hung them up.
“Now, if you want to follow me,” Tyler said.
He stepped ahead of us, and Bridget followed with myself close behind as we traveled a narrow, darkened hallway. We stopped when we reached a velvet rope, which Tyler unhooked and allowed us to pass before taking the lead again. I tugged on the back of Bridget’s shirt and yanked her toward me.
“What is going on?” I asked.
“I told you. I’m taking you for a drink.”
This was seriously weird. It was like one of those underground clubs, places I had read about that were sex clubs or something. Could that be it? Was Bridget trying to introduce me to something…new?
Dimly lit lights lined the now-carpeted floor, the hue getting brighter and brighter as we walked toward the sound of the music. I heard voices, laughter, and conversation. Not loud like a dance club or something of the sort, but of a restaurant.
Tyler stopped in front of a leather tufted door and smiled. “Welcome, Evelyn, to WET.”
The door opened, and I was relieved it wasn’t an underground sex club. No, it was something much different. Golden hues and sparkling chandeliers lit the small room while the mahogany floors matched the small bar. Six high-back stools lined the front of the bar and low marble tables, surrounded by plush burgundy couches and armchairs, were scattered around the room. It was exquisite. And so were the people.
I raised my eyebrows at Bridget, wondering what this wonderland we walked into was.
“Speakeasy,” she whispered.
“What?”
“You know, like in the days of Prohibition, they had hidden places to drink booze.
“I know what it is. I just didn’t know they still had them.”
“I only know of this one. And for the record,” she said, leaning over, “that was no joke about keeping this a secret. This place is strictly members only, and you have to be invited to become one. Very private.”
“Holy shit!” I pointed to a small U-shaped sofa along the far side of the wall. “Is that what’s-his-name from that movie and no! That is so not his wife. Do you think—”
She yanked on the edge of my hair. “Private, Evelyn,” she hissed.
I tore my eyes away from the movie guy and scanned the rest of the room. There were several other familiar faces, a politician or two. A hockey and baseball player. Yes, this was elite. There was beauty and power, and most of all, money.
“How did you find out about this place?” I asked.
“Seriously?”
It was dumb of me because Bridget knew almost everyone in Chicago. If she didn’t know them, she knew someone who did and made whatever connections she wanted with one phone call.
“The owner is Aaron Matthews, super heavy hitter in the hotel and restaurant game in Chicago. He is—”
Bridget kept talking, but I stopped listening. This was one of Aaron’s bars? It was strange, but also not. Like Bridget said, I knew he owned several bars, but this place? My eyes scanned around the room again, and then something came to memory. Callie and I had a conversation once regarding a secret club that Aaron owned and took her to.
“My best friend’s boyfriend,” I muttered, my mind still reeling.
“Huh?” she asked.
My head snapped to her. “My best friend is dating the owner.”
Her eyebrows raised. “Your best friend is dating ‘the’ Aaron Matthews? Wow. That’s quite a catch.”
He was a catch and I couldn’t be happier for her. However, I knew how nosy Bridget could get, and I wasn’t going to dish the dirt to her about Callie and Aaron.
“Yes. They are both quite the catch. Come on. Let’s go get a drink,” I said, tugging on her sleeve.
She shrugged, knowing I was finished with the discussion. As I followed her across the room, a mixture of expensive fragrances and pricey cocktails surrounded me. Once I sat on the seat next to Bridget at the bar, I opened my purse to casually look to see if I had any cash on me.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite bartender,” Bridget said.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite wedding planner,” a deep voice said, approaching us. “How are you, Bridget?”
“Wrecked.”
“I’ll ease that out of you. Want the usual?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe we’ll get a bottle. Evelyn…Evelyn…what are you doing?”
“I was just looking in my purse for—”
“Hey,” the deep voice said. “Evelyn.”
Shitttttttttt…
Because of course, why wouldn’t Abel work at a bar his brother owned?
It took me several moments to recognize him. Maybe it was because he was behind the bar and wearing such a slim-fit, white button-down shirt. Maybe it was the lighting or the sheer surprise of seeing him.
Or maybe it was because he seemed even more handsome than the last time I saw him.
“Hi. Wow…small world,” I said.
Bridget looked between us, confused. “You two know each other?”
“Yes,” he said at the same time as I said, “Kind of.”
He bit his lower lip and laughed. “A little of both?”
“He’s Aaron Matthew’s brother,” I said with an eyebrow raise.
“Well,” she said, inching forward on her stool. “How come you never told me this before, Abel?”
He smoothed his hands down the front of his crisp white shirt as he shrugged. “You didn’t ask,” he said, turning his attention to me. “You look as beautiful as ever, Evelyn.”
I could see Bridget, out of the corner of my eye, staring at me, her lips upturned in a smirk. “Well, well, well…”
“What?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
I stared at Abel as he added some ice to a martini shaker and fastened the lid to the top. He shook it rapidly, the strong muscles of his arms pulling against the tight white fabric of his shirt. He caught me gawking, but before I could even be embarrassed, he winked.
A wink.
It was such an underutilized gesture. It was subtle in nature, and the recipient could interpret it any way they wanted to. With him, I was conflicted because all I could think about was how hot it was. How hot he was. It wasn’t that I’d never noticed before. It was hard not to, but there was something different about him I couldn’t quite place.
Regardless, he was under a new light now; a new light that made his blue eyes sparkle, made his shoulders and height seem even more impressive. It was the same light that made me aware of those dimples just below the surface of his beard, the beard that I wanted to reach out and touch to see how it felt under my fingertips. The light that made his smile so warm and his eyes turn down coyly.
“Will you answer him for Christ’s sake?” Bridget said, poking me in the side. “You look like you were contemplating if Cheerios were doughnut seeds.”
And it was the same light that made me appear like a complete jackass.
Abel was now leaned over, laughing. “I’m sorry,” he said. He waited until he caught his breath before he spoke again. “I’ve never seen someone so confused about what to drink.”
I cleared my throat. “I wasn’t confused. I was—”
“Daydreaming?” he asked.
“Ogling,” Bridget said, bringing her martini with three olives to her mouth. She took a sip and set it back down, the clank of her gold bangle bracelet the only sound I heard, even though there were conversations and low music occurring around me. “She was ogling you, Abel. Can’t say I blame her. If I was a free woman and ten years younger, I’d do the same.”
He started laughing again and turned his attention to a gentleman who came up next to him and whispered in his ear.
“Bridget,” I hissed. “You are mortifying me.”
“Oh, lighten up. I’m trying to get you laid.”
My jaw dropped. Not that I should’ve been surprised. This was Bridget. I worked for her for close to a year, and in that time I’d never known anyone else to have two completely different sides to their personality. She was the epitome of professionalism in the office. Every aspect of her business from the furnishings to the labels on the clothes she dressed in was perfection. Then, when work was over, and she was in a place where she could unravel, the real Bridget came out. A foul-mouthed, no-bullshit woman who took no prisoners.
I whispered in her ear, “I don’t need your help.”
“What are you girls whispering about?” he asked. “Cocktail selections?”
“I’ll have a Manhattan, please,” I said.
He nodded as the dimples reappeared. “A whiskey girl. My favorite.”
I heard Bridget snort as she stood up and excused herself to the ladies’ room, leaving me alone.
“So, what’s new?” he asked, placing a short glass on the bar.
“I wasn’t ogling you,” I responded briskly.
He shrugged, adding ice to the glass. “I wouldn’t have minded if you were.”
“You’re smooth with the words. You play the bartender role right.”
“No role.”
He made my drink with a certain artistic flow. He added whiskey, bitters, and vermouth to the glass before stirring it well. After running a thin orange peel around the rim, he threaded two cherries through a toothpick. Just before he slid it over to me, he took a fresh hand towel and wiped the outside of the glass down, ensuring there was no spillage. I was relieved that the liquor wasn’t up to the very top because undoubtedly, I’d spill the first time I picked it up. There is little recovery when you have booze running down your chin and a wet shirt that made you smell like a distillery.
I brought it to my mouth and took a small sip. It was sweet and strong, with the right amount of kick back from the slow burn of the whiskey.
“Perfect,” I said. “I’m always impressed when someone stirs instead of shakes.”
“Not even if someone asks. Always stirred.”
“I usually ask for two cherries, but you seemed to have known.”
He placed his hand on his chest and gave a little bow.
“How do you know Bridget?” he asked.
“I’ve been her assistant for the last year. I have to say, I’m a little disappointed she never brought me here before.”
“I’m sure she had to be certain you could be trusted. Members can bring in guests, but it’s their membership if word gets out. It’s why most people don’t.”
“Ah. I see. Well, I’ll consider myself lucky. My lips are sealed.”
“And what a set of lips they are,” he said as he licked at his own, the tip of his tongue running across his lower lip. It was deliberate and sexy, but I couldn’t help but wonder if this was his game.
“Are you allowed to do that?” I asked.
“Do what?”
“That,” I said, waving a hand between us. “Flirt. With me. At work.”
He took in a deep breath that expanded his already large chest. “Well, if you want to get technical…”
“Yes,” Bridget said, sliding back into her seat. “Let’s get technical.”
“Just the person I need,” Abel said. “Do me a little favor, Bridget.”
“What’s that?”
He grinned, leaning over the bar. “Fire this insanely beautiful girl so I can ask her out for the fourth time.”
“What?” Bridget said.
“No,” I shouted.
“I can’t ask her out if she’s a member or with one. You know that. So, fire her.”
“Um. Do you honestly think I would risk my job to go on a date with you?” I said, pointing at him. “Arrogant bastard.”
“Arrogant maybe,” he said, winking again. “But I’m not above playing dirty.”
I took a large sip from my cocktail. “Good for you. I’d never give up my dream job for a guy, let alone a date.”
I sat back against the chair and folded my arms. Who the hell did he think he was? Figuring this guy out was like dodging bullets, left and right. I never knew where he was coming from or where he was going.
“Oh, please,” Bridget said. “You have an in with the owner, Abel. Just tell Aaron to let this one slide.”
“My brother might’ve heard that before,” he said.
I ran my finger up and down the side of my glass. “I’ll ask him the next time I see him.”
His eyes fixated on my finger movements, the gliding across the wet glass. “Maybe,” he said, without looking up. “I might have said it before.”
“That’s what I thought,” I said.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts and noticed another customer was ready for her next drink at the other end of the short bar. I watched as his hand brushed the bar’s surface, the heat from his palms leaving small smudges across it.
“Leave him your card,” Bridget said. When I didn’t answer her right away, she nudged me with such force she almost forced me off the stool.
I shook my head. “No. Callie and Aaron don’t think it’d be a good idea. Plus, you heard him. I don’t want to get you or him in trouble.”
She rolled her eyes. “His brother owns the place. He isn’t going anywhere.”
I looked at him, opening a champagne bottle that cost more than my rent. He was completely engaged with the woman in front of him, the same way he was with me just moments before. Maybe it was just him. Being a flirty bartender was part of the job description, wasn’t it? But what about all the other times we ran into each other? Was that him being his regular, flirty self, with the ability to insert a heavy dose of inappropriate?
As if he sensed my stare, his head turned as he poured the champagne, and he smiled. I twirled a strand of hair around my finger and wondered what I was so afraid of. I wanted to know more. I want to know more of him. I knew Callie and Aaron wouldn’t be happy about it, but they’d get over it. There was something moving between us, and every time I was near him that became more and more apparent.
“If you don’t leave your number, I will,” Bridget said. “He’s a doll.”
“How would you know that?” I asked.
“Because I’ve been coming here for long enough to know,” she said. “He graduated from Northwestern a couple years ago and wants to be a teacher. It’s hard right now in Chicago to find something, so he’s been biding his time.”
“A teacher?”
I had no idea, and frankly, it didn’t seem to fit him. I didn’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that.
“Yeah. High school, I think.” A familiar flutter swirled around my stomach, one that I hadn’t sensed in a long time, one that let me know that I was, in fact, swooning. Hot guy, teacher, and a brazen attitude was enough to check off a number of boxes in my imaginary dream boy checklist.
“I can’t stay much longer,” Bridget said, looking at the time on her phone. “We have a lot of shit to get done before the Miller wedding on Saturday.”
I took another sip of my Manhattan and started digging through my purse again. Bridget set her hand on top of mine and laughed. “No. Not now. Just not a lot longer. At least let’s finish our drinks.”
“Oh, I know. I was looking for this,” I said, pulling out one of my business cards.
It seemed silly, considering he knew where he could find me, but it was a gesture. An invitation. One that I hoped he’d accept.