Red Nights - Shari J. Ryan Page 0,30

his dimples deepen. “She’s totally missing out.”

“I am.” I look around; making sure Grant isn’t watching us, seeing as I can’t wipe this giddy grin off my face. It’s not the way I typically look at our patrons.

“How late do you work?” he asks.

Looking down at my watch, I’m shocked to see it’s already nine. “We close up at ten, but I won’t be out of here until eleven.”

He looks up in thought, his lips twisting to the side. “Hmm. Care for a nightcap at O’Rourke’s? On the corner of Thayer and Meeting Street?”

“Felicity,” Grant swoops in behind me and rests his hand on my shoulder. “Everything okay with your meal, Sir?” A chill runs through me. I don’t do this. I keep my personal life separate from work. And I certainly don’t flirt with the customers.

Hayes sees the look in my eyes. He clears his throat and gently dabs his lips with a napkin. “I’m with The Providence Journal, and I just wanted to meet the famous chef behind this extraordinary food.” He places the napkin back down over his lap and clasps his hands together over the table. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about this restaurant, and I must say, it was all true.” He reaches out to shake Grant’s hand, which is all it takes for Grant to treat Hayes like a rare diamond in a pawnshop.

I mouth, “Yes,” before I turn to let Hayes schmooze Grant even more. Clearly, this will end up being several minutes of bullshitter’s delight.

* * *

I got out a bit after eleven and didn’t think twice about the direction I was heading in. I want to see him. That’s all that’s on my mind right now. While I’m usually wiped out and ready to pass out when I leave, tonight, I’m wide-awake and eager to keep the night going. Even though I grew up right outside of Providence, I haven’t spent a lot of time on the East Side. It’s a University area, and I went to school in New York. Plus, my house—the one that just burned down, I remember yet again—was about twenty minutes from here, and Sur Le Feu is in downtown Providence. So, the only time I ever had a reason to come to this particular area, was to visit Aspen, and we’ve never gone to O’Rourke’s. And now I can see why. It’s an underground dive bar. The tiny little sign hanging over the door makes it look like the place is purposely hidden.

I walk down the steps into what looks like an old tavern. A bunch of balding men with round bellies are seated at the bar…at twenty-five, I might just be the youngest one in here. It’s kind of refreshing compared to the typical college crowd. Guys aren’t screaming, and girls aren’t falling all over themselves. I’m kind of done with that scene. I have been for a while.

I scan the bar, taking it all in and looking for Hayes. But before I have the opportunity to look in every direction, an arm loops around me. He pulls me against his hip. “Come over here.” He leads me to the end of the bar and two empty seats.

“Who’s this pretty little lady?” one of the guys at the bar hollers over to Hayes.

“Guys, this is Felicity.” The whole row of men look over and salute me.

I hear, “Nice to meet ya, hon,” from several voices in unison. They all give me a quick once over before their eyes drift back to a TV showing a replay of a Cops episode.

“Do you know all of them?” I giggle softly.

“They’re all on the police force. I used to work with most of them.” Which brings back the question of why he isn’t working with them now. He now knows about my recent tragedy, so I feel like it’s fair that I know about his past demons, too. Some of them, anyway. But it’s been a long day, and I’m not going to push it. Not yet.

“Honey, before the night’s over,” one of the men shouts over to me, “will you convince this fella to come back to work?”

I shoot a questioning look over to Hayes, now even more curious for some insight.

“Beer or wine?” he asks, pointedly changing the subject once again.

“Why aren’t you going back to work?” I ask back.

“Why do you have to be so beautiful?” he asks.

Something strikes me suddenly, a detail I’d been too busy to think about when it