Lunch with Maze had been enlightening.
Turned out, when he was eleven, Maze had been adopted by an affluent couple who lived on a vast estate not a million miles from Harlow’s modest middle-class family home. The Rowes were members of the same country club as her parents. Harlow had never met either of them, but that was no surprise, the country club wasn’t exactly her favorite scene.
In his early years, Maze had bounced around a bunch of foster homes in the Floyd’s neighborhood and didn’t take the best attitude to his new home with him. In fact, from the sounds of things, he’d carried a massive chip on his shoulder.
Eleven was a late age for adoption. Usually people, especially those with means, would choose a baby over an almost teen. Maze had been lucky, though he hadn’t seen it that way when being ripped from his neighborhood and everyone he cared about.
His perspective on life was unique. He had experience from both sides having spent the first part of his childhood around abject poverty, and his teen years receiving the benefit of the best things life could offer… when he wasn’t busy shunning the luxury available to him.
His adoptive father was less involved in his upbringing than his mother, Amelie, who doted on him. In some of the stories Maze told, it sounded almost like his mother treated him as a pet rather than a child. His father certainly did because although Maze was given a good, private education, he wasn’t offered a position in his father’s successful company. Though through the course of the story, Maze made it clear that he hadn’t wanted one anyway.
Maze said he had tried to fit in, which was why he’d agreed to the adoption. The dream for any good-for-nothing orphan kid was to be submerged in lavishness and indulged in every way. But he’d never settled. A rift had grown in the family when he’d bonded more with the household staff than the elite socialites his parents wanted him to associate with.
Parents and child argued, deepening the rift, which hadn’t been helped when Maze began inviting his old street friends back to the mansion to play on the estate and with the vast array of tech he’d been spoiled with.
Floyd had taken him in during his pre-teen foster years. Maze’s residence at the bar was unofficial, but it was his home of choice. Almost as soon as he was placed with a new foster family, Maze would run away back to Floyd’s. The placement family wouldn’t put up a fight as they’d inevitably care more about the stipend than him. Harlow liked to think that such a thing wasn’t as widespread these days, but it wasn’t the first time she’d heard the tale, not by a long shot.
The trend continued after the adoption. Whenever Maze ran away from his adoptive family, the Rowes, he’d go back to Floyd’s. Dover’s father had been a steadying influence for him, and other strays as well.
Maze talked about Ryske too. Noon had told him that Ryske was open with her, and that seemed to open the doors for all of them to be honest about their joint pasts.
He talked about how Floyd’s had been the regular haunt of Ryske’s father. Floyd would take pity on the young Ryske when his father drank himself into a stupor, letting him hang out and often sleep in the den overnight. Floyd made a conscious choice to serve Ryske’s father even when the man was blitzed. That way he could know Ryske was safe. The alternative would be to boot Ryske’s dad out and leave the kid at the mercy of his father’s violence.
If the boys hadn’t met at the bar, they’d have met at the school where they’d also crossed paths when they bothered to show up for lessons. Though Maze had been moved from one school to another and back so many times that he lost count. Floyd’s, and his friendships with Dover and Ryske, were the only constants he had known.
Understanding more about how the crew were connected to each other helped her to see why they were so loyal and how that loyalty would never be broken. They cared a lot for each other and she cared a lot for them.
Cared, yes. But, boy, was she bored.
After lunch, Maze had dropped her off with Dover at Floyd’s and gone to do whatever he did. So Harlow had spent the rest of the day alone in the apartment catching up with her college work.
While it was nice to lose herself to the concentration required for college, she couldn’t maintain it after night fell and sound rose from the bar below.
Taking a long shower and blow-drying her hair, she took her time about putting on makeup and one of her favorite dresses. Getting herself ready killed some time that apparently she had a lot of.
No one had come to check on her, and she couldn’t stay upstairs forever. Harlow was getting bored and wanted to be useful, or at least part of the fun. So donning some shoes, she went on the hunt, creeping down the spiral stairs.
The first person she found was Felipe. In the den, sitting in the middle of the couch, stuffing his face with potato chips, he was watching something on the TV with the volume up high.
“Miss Sweeting,” he exclaimed, crumbs of the chips spouting from his mouth.
“Hello, Felipe. Are you okay?”
Going over to sit next to him, she propped herself on the edge of the couch and ran a hand over his hair. He didn’t recoil, even though he probably thought she was weird for stroking him. Smiling at her, he closed up the chips and wiped crumbs from his hands onto his jeans.
Something compelled him to explain his presence. “My mom’s at work ‘til midnight. I’ve been working today. Mr. Dover lets me watch TV in here after ‘cause ours is out. Do you need something?”
“No, honey,” she said. “Are you going to be here tomorrow?” He nodded. “I’ve got something I want you to help me with. Will you do that?”
He nodded again. “Do you live here now? You’re in love with Mr. Ryske, aren’t you?”
Moistening her lips, she didn’t expect that restraining her smile was going to be so difficult. “Mr. Ryske is very special to me,” she said. “And I’ll be staying for a while. So if you need anything, you can talk to me, okay?”
“Yes, Miss Sweeting.”
“Good boy,” she said, patting his hand.
As his social worker, she wasn’t supposed to touch so much. But she wasn’t sure she was his social worker anymore. She wasn’t sure she was anyone’s.
Leaving him to enjoy his movie on the TV, Harlow got up to head into the bar. The moment she left the den, the noise of Floyd’s hit her. Passing the restrooms, she decided to go to the left and hop up behind the bar as opposed to going around the front of it.
The place was busy, but it was dark, so she couldn’t pick out who anyone was. Music played on the jukebox and the usual smell of beer and sweat permeated. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant smell, but there was comfort in it now that it had become so familiar to her.
Rounding the corner of the L-shaped bar, she found Dover talking to a bunch of guys crowded on the customer side of the bar. The drinkers noticed her before Dover did. His hands were propped on the bar, far apart, supporting his weight. Ducking under Dover’s arm, she wrapped both arms around his torso, taking him by surprise.
“Oh, who’s the hottie?” one of the patrons asked.
“I want a go after you’re done,” the second said.
“Sorry, guys, this one’s not mine to give,” Dover said, resting an arm around her. “You’ve got to talk to Ryske if you want to take a run at her. Without his say so, you’ll get your ass handed to you if you think about feeding this girl a line.”
This was a different world. She’d known that. But hadn’t known that a guy could hit on an involved woman as long as he got the approval of the man she was involved with… or maybe they were just playing, she wasn’t really sure.
The trio on the other side of the bar were still eyeing her. Even though they were bulky and covered in tattoos, she didn’t feel intimidated. Floyd’s was one of the first places she’d been warned about when taking up her work in this neighborhood; she used to adjust her route to avoid it. Now, Harlow was sleeping there and considered the place a sanctuary and a comfort.
“He’s always the guy, isn’t he,” the third patron said.
“Always is,” Dover said and pointed at each of the guys. “These guys here work certain nights for us, we call ‘em Tom, Dick, and Larry… Guys, this is Nightingale.”
Certain nights, she took that to mean on nights they were busiest, like Fridays.
“Charmed,” the one on the end, Tom, said, making the other two laugh.
“Don’t fall for it,” Dick said, giving Tom a shove. “He’s as rough as they come.”
“Hey, she likes Ryske,” Larry said. “I say that’s got to mean she likes it rough.”
The guys jeered, making comments on Ryske’s long list of exes and how he’d been with women who seemed to like all sorts.
Dover turned toward her, bringing her into a mini-huddle. “You need something, Nightingale?” he asked. “Problem upstairs?”
“No,” she said. “Can I borrow Felipe tomorrow? We’re going to organize your paperwork.”
He circled his arms around her, letting them hang loose behind her as his fingers linked. “The kid’s not allowed upstairs.”
“We’ll do it in the den,” she said and widened her smile to a pout. “If that’s okay with you.”
“That pouty thing might work with Ryske, but I know it’s not going anywhere for me,” he said and she raised her shoulders in a shrug, making him smile. “But I guess… it is pretty to look at. You can have the kid.”
“Thank you.”
Tucking her hair behind her ear, his touch was like that of a big brother. “That it? You should go back upstairs. Ryske and Maze are still out. Noon will be back in a while.”
Doing whatever it was they did when they were out at night, as they frequently were. “I want to help,” she said, inspecting the bottles behind the bar. “Let me work.”
His brows almost shot off the top of his head. “What the… You want to work the bar?”
Grinning, she nodded. “Or I can serve.”
“Floyd’s has never had table service,” he said. “And I’m here on my own tonight. You think I want to take the risk of you out there where hands can wander?”
Big brotherly and protective. That may have had something to do with his friend’s reaction last time a man outside the crew had touched her.
“Hands don’t worry me,” she said. “If I get in trouble, I’ll go upstairs.”
“You’ll cause a riot.”
Clyde wouldn’t be showing up again. There would be no need for anyone else to be near enough to cause a problem for Ryske. “I promise not to flirt,” she said, biting her lip, wishing he’d agree. Though it looked like he might be coming around, he wasn’t there yet. “I can pour drinks back here if you want…” Letting go of him, she ran a finger along a bunch of bottles. “I’ve never worked bar. You can teach me.”
Obviously that idea was more attractive to her than it was to him. “Table service sounds great,” he said, taking her waist to pull her away from the bottles. “Go find yourself something to write on in the store room, and get out there.”
Excitement made Harlow squeal. Bouncing up, she grabbed his neck so she could pull him down to kiss him. Giving her something to do might not seem like a big deal to him, but she’d always rather be busy than twiddling her thumbs.
Working bar in this kind of place hadn’t even been on her radar before meeting Ryske. If she succeeded, and did it well, it could bring her a step closer to being accepted in this world. To have any kind of future, or relationship, with Ryske, she’d have to become a familiar face around Floyd’s. The last thing she wanted was to be the oddity in the corner who no one understood.
Harlow didn’t see herself as superior; her family’s money was insignificant as far as she was concerned. If Maze, whose family were worth a vast amount more than hers, could be accepted around here, there was hope for her. Connecting with people meant something to her and Ryske was giving her the chance to connect with people in his world by opening the door for her.
Their relationship hadn’t been defined and probably never would be. Ryske couldn’t promise himself to her, but she could promise herself to him. Being welcome in his world meant more to her than he could ever know. Working for Dover was just the first step.
Dover hadn’t been wrong about the customers wandering hands, but Harlow had done her best to control, and avoid, them. Anytime anyone thought about doing more than putting a hand on her waist… or her thigh… or her ass, she’d hear someone say something about her seeing Ryske and the hand would disappear. Didn’t take her long to pick up on the trend. Talking about Ryske whenever anyone was getting too close got her away from any close calls.
The bell to signal last call had rung a few minutes ago and although some patrons were still finishing drinks, most were beginning to leave. Harlow gathered up a bunch of dirty glasses and bottles to take them back over to the bar.
Moving around a crowd that were heading toward the door, she saw Ryske and Maze on this side of the bar, leaning over to huddle with Dover who was on the other side. Noon had come back a while ago and taken Felipe back to his mom’s.
She pushed the bottles and glasses onto the bar and crept over to smack Ryske’s ass, taking him by surprise. Grinning, she laughed when he scooped an arm around her waist to haul her against his side.
“Can’t keep your hands off the goods. Can you, babydoll?” he said, sweeping her hair away from her face. “What are you doing down here?”
“I’m your friendly neighborhood server,” she said, stroking his face. “Can I have a kiss? Do we have a mark in the room?”
“Only mark on my agenda tonight is you,” he said and bowed to kiss her.
Curling her fingers into the edges of his jacket, she pressured him down, holding onto the kiss even when he tried to pull away. Slipping a hand to the back of his neck, she held him close, delving her tongue deeper into his mouth.
Her intention had been to show the room that the rumors were true, that she was with Ryske. But she lost sight of that aim when he took her into his arms and reminded her of who she was dealing with by tightening his hold and pinning her to the bar.
In a desperate attempt to hold onto her sanity, Harlow pushed away with both hands and slid out from in front of him. Ryske didn’t let her go far. His arm snaked around her to pick her up and seat her on a stool.
Keeping his arm around her, he propped his hip on the seat between her thighs. “You want to explain to me why my girl is working your bar?” Ryske asked Dover.
“She asked.”
“He’s right,” Harlow said, sliding a hand under Ryske’s jacket to hold herself against him. “I did ask and I’ve had fun.”
“So much fun that you needed me to put my mark on you the minute I got here,” he said and exhaled. “I’m taking you upstairs and we’re not coming down for the rest of the night.”
The night was basically over anyway. Once Dover was done with clean up, everyone would be coming upstairs to chill or sleep. So Harlow let Ryske take control.