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IT WAS A GREAT DAY to be going to work. I'd skipped my morning workout because my workout with Holden had been more than enough. Now that my freak out had finished, the post-sex bliss kicked in.
The sun-kissed my skin, the day had a magical quality and the world contained more happiness than I'd ever thought possible.
When I got to the bar, I whistled a little song as I went about setting up. Then I stopped myself. Was I being too happy? My entire self bubbled over with the joy of being alive. That was so not me. I wasn't a bubbling-with-happiness person. I simmered with anger. That was my thing.
It wasn't like spending one night with Holden was any cause for celebration, anyway. It was just sex. I needed sex and he'd been conveniently available. The extent of our involvement ended at my girlie bits. No attachment, no commitment, just furious humping and orgasmic bliss.
I whistled again. Not just any song but that bloody “Rock Princess”. It had a damn catchy chorus, that was facts. But I had to turn the dimmer switch way down on my shining light or everyone would know my business.
The trouble with Trouble was that people cared way too much about other people's business and, if anyone found out, they'd make much more of this sleeping with Holden thing than it really was. I didn't want them talking about it. I sure as hell didn't want them interfering.
I just needed to distract them. I tried to act like my feet were hitting the ground when I walked and my body didn't glow. The light beaming out of my eyes could be hidden if I didn't look directly at anyone. And I wouldn't, under any circumstances, sing.
Jackson was, as always, the first through the door. Not long after, Alex swanned in, full of self-congratulations about the success of the reopening.
"Did you see the crowd? Everyone was there. Every single person who has influence in this town."
"Razer wasn't there. He has influence." Jackson tried to hide his grin.
"What did you think, Carlie?"
"It was fantastic. You've worked so hard to make a success of things and it's really paying off. Want me to get you a drink?"
Jackson peered at me over his beer glass. "You are Carlie, right? The same Carlie who works here every day?"
"What are you talking about? Hey, have you done something with your hair? It looks great!"
Jackson harrumphed.
Shit, had I really said that? Jackson was right. I wasn't the regular Carlie. It was hormones or some shit. The image of Holden's arm around me as we'd snuggled in bed that morning floated into my mind and I bend down to check the fridges so I could hide my smile.
"Maybe I should extend the place," Alex said. “The office next door doesn't seem like it's doing too well. Maybe they'd consider selling. Or maybe it'd be better to move up. A rooftop bar in the summer. That would make money..."
"Not a chance in hell of that,” Jackson said. “Neighbours bitch enough about the noise. Damn middle-class wankers, move into the area because they want to be close to the action but bitch like hell about the noise.”
Alex sighed.
"Anyway, don't you have enough to be going on with? Running a club is a serious business and you have your band as well. There's going to come a time when you are going to have to make a decision about which you want to do."
"See, the plan is that with competent staff like Carlie, I won't need to focus too hard on the club"
I flashed him a huge grin. "Thanks, Alex."
"God, all this niceness today is making my beer taste sour."
Jackson was just an old grump who didn't understand what a wonderful place the world could be. Just because other people were happy didn't hurt him any way. And it was really nice of Alex to call me competent.
Hell, I started humming. I stopped myself before anyone noticed. I think.
I smiled just thinking about that thing Holden had done with his tongue the night before. And again this morning. I wondered if he'd do it again tonight.
Then Alex's phone rang.
"Oh yeah," he said when he hung up. "We've got a serious meeting lined up. First step to the big time. That was Jim Baxter."
He waited for a reaction. I had no idea who that was or if I should know him. Jackson had a look of recognition, though.
"Jim, he's a good bloke. You'll do well if he signs you."
You could see Alex's ego inflate.
"Good luck," I said.
"What's up with you?" Jackson asked. "You're freaking me out. Say something snarky. Anything. You've turned into a mushy cow. Either you're angling for a raise or you're in love."
He knew. He had to know. The way he looked at me, as though I had traces of sex on my face, he knew. I could hide nothing in this place. My face flushed, the redness growing. I had to say something snarky or I'd reveal everything. But I couldn't think of anything snarky to say.
Then I remembered.
"Hey, Alex. You owe me,” I said, holding my hand out.
He reached into his jacket pocket and got out an envelope that he put in my hand. Then leaned over to whisper in my ear.
"I took out the $500 bonus because you didn't stay until the end."
Damn, did nothing escape him? I flicked through the money, making sure he hadn't shorted me.
"Don't you trust me, Carlie?" he asked.
"I don't trust anyone."
But then Jackson got chatting to Alex about the record label people and I was forgotten.
I wanted that money safely away before Alex found out I'd blurted to Holden that he'd paid me to watch the gig. I wasn't sure if that was against our agreement or not but since Alex hadn't specifically stated that I had to keep it quiet, he surely couldn't take the money back. He definitely couldn't if I'd spent it.
I slipped the money in my bag but then realized it wasn't the safest place for it. If I got busy serving, anyone could slip behind the bar. I'd worked too hard for that money to lose it.
That made me smile. It'd not really been that hard. Easiest money I'd ever made, actually.
Violet had a safe in her office for the band room takings. I could use that to store my precious money but she'd never actually given me the combination. And Alex talked about me not trusting anyone. Of course, I'd had no reason to know it before.
I took the notes out of the bag and stuffed them in my bra. I winced a little when they hit my nipple.
I figured I'd fooled them but later in the day Drew came in.
"Drew!" I called out, then stopped short because he'd been so angry with me last time.
We’d been through four busboys since Drew left. Brad, one guy who passed out at the bar after doing too many drugs on his shift, another guy who thought he could run the place on his first night then Rex, who’d tried to convert the customers to some weird religious cult.
Drew sat with Jackson and the two of them talked for a while. I didn't really pay attention because I was thinking about that thing and that other thing. All the things Holden had done to me. Then all the things I wanted him to do. Mostly I thought about the way his hips moved when he was on stage and the even better way they moved when we were in bed.
"See you tonight," he'd said when I left. Was that a definite thing? Like a locked-in plan? Or was it just a casual way to say goodbye.
When I turned to get myself some ice water, I noticed the horned and Hitler-moustached picture of Holden behind the bar. That had been a bit mean. I should tear it down. Was anyone watching? If they saw me tear it down, they might get the wrong idea.
Jackson caught my eye and nodded for me to come over.
"I figured since you were giving people second chances, you might put Drew back on."
Fuck. I knew he'd figured it out. But it was only Jackson. No one else knew.
Drew didn't make eye contact, he just huddled over, staring at his drink.
"What do you think, Drew? I asked him. "Are you willing to come back?"
I'd not had time to call any of the other applicants for the busboy job and, to be honest, none of them had been that promising. I'd also found out the beer tap had been faulty and needed to be fixed, so it wasn't totally Drew's fault. But I couldn't give in too easily. That would be a mistake after the way the staff had been acting. I had to make Drew work for it.