Her Dirty Bartenders (Men at Work #5) - Mika Lane Page 0,18

us. And, who I just happened to—”

One of her staff was talking to her in the background. “Cab, I gotta go. Sorry.”

And she was gone.

Goddammit.

I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. This wasn’t good. Not at all.

I returned to the bar to find Stell polishing the glasses she’d just taken out of the steaming dishwasher. She studiously avoided my gaze.

I cornered Maze. “Dude. This is not going to work for me,” I whispered.

He looked at me, confusion all over his face. “Really? You don't want to work with someone from home?”

I couldn't even answer that.

He leaned closer. “Don’t worry, man. She won’t last longer than a couple days, anyway. She’s miserable. Look at her. Natural attrition.”

Okay, that didn’t really help. And the club was filling quickly. I needed to get working.

A bachelorette party group made their way to the bar.

“Hey, mister,” one of them called. “Who’s Denver’s Most Eligible Bachelor? Is it you?” she asked, pointing my way.

I shook my head. “Sorry, ladies. It’s that handsome fellow over there, Maze Abbot.”

They looked at each other and broke into giggles. “Hi, Maze,” the one wearing a ‘Kiss Me, I’m the Bride’ sash hollered.

Maze glared at me.

“What can I get you ladies?” I asked, guessing they’d go for Cosmos or Sex on the Beach shooters.

They looked at each other, letting the bride-to-be speak for them. “We want margaritas, please.”

Cool. That was easy enough, especially since I was distracted by Estella/Stell slamming things around the bar.

Once a hot head, always a hot head.

“But,” the bride called, “we’d like frozen. I want blueberry.”

“I’ll take mango.”

“I’ll take regular lime. No salt, though.”

“I’ll take creamsicle.

“And I’ll take…. strawberry.”

They looked at each other, thrilled with their choices. “Yay. This way we can all try each other’s,” one of them gushed.

Great. Everyone wanted something different. I was going to kill whoever added those stupid fruity margaritas to our drink menu. This was going to take me a fucking half hour.

“Have fun, buddy,” Maze teased, elbowing me in the ribs.

Thanks, pal.

“And hurry, Mister Bartender. We’re thirsty,” the bride ordered.

Jesus. I wondered how many of these things she and her posse would consume before the night was out.

I pulled out the frozen fruit and started pouring shit into blenders.

“Estella?” I said.

“It’s Stell,” she hissed, not looking at me.

“Sorry. Stell. Have they shown you yet how to ring up a sale?”

She glared at me. I was getting lots of glares lately.

“Yes.”

“Great. Can you ring up this order and get one of their credit cards? Those girls are here for the long haul and will be running up a hefty bill.”

“Yes,” she said, heading over to them.

“Ladies, whose credit card shall we use for this?” I heard her asking.

“Here. Take mine.”

“No, no, no. This is my treat. Here, take mine,” another said.

The bride leaned over the bar toward Stell. “Hey, that cute bartender there, the one with the dimples?”

I was the only one with dimples. I kept my head down and focused on my frozen drinks.

“What about him?” Stell asked.

“Is he single?”

I turned to find them all looking at me, and Stell rolling her eyes.

“I have no idea. Why don’t you ask him,” she said, taking the card to the register.

I switched on the blender so the customers couldn’t hear us. “Um, you could help a guy out, you know? Tell them I’m married or something?”

Stell stopped what she was doing and looked up at me. In her sneakers, she seemed so small. And her eyes were as captivating as they’d always been.

“Sure, Cab. I’ll tell them that. I’ll also tell them that if there’s a virgin in the group, you’ll be happy to fuck her and then leave town, never to be heard from again.”

13

Stell

“You’re home early! How was your second day on the job?”

I sank into the opposite end of the sofa where Marni sat, kicked my shoes off, and folded my feet under myself.

Should I tell her and then kill her? Or skip straight to the killing part?

“Um, Marn. You neglected to tell me your brother was part of the crew at Tableau.”

She kept clicking TV channels, avoiding my gaze. “Oh. Did I?”

There was no way she ‘forgot’ to tell me.

“You know you did.”

She finally looked at me and shrugged, tucking her black hair neatly behind her ears. “So what’s the big deal?”

Was she really asking me that?

“You know what the big deal is.” I reached forward and snatched the remote out of her hands.

“Hey!”

I gave her the best stink eye I could muster. It was hard