Page 82 of Demitri

“Ten minutes to open!” I yell through the window to Brodie, who grunts his response. Typical.

I walk through the room, wiping off the tables one more time before going to the door and flipping on the open sign and unlocking the door. Not surprisingly, it’s my girls who walk through right away, like they were on the other side waiting.

“It’s about time,” Nola pouts. “It’s getting chilly out there!”

“Why didn’t you knock?”

“We were letting you tell the bar how much you loved it since you’ve been gone for a while.” Grace smiles, moving past me.

“Bitches,” I laugh.

“Your bitches.” Sofie grins, hugging me as she comes in.

I don’t wait for them to order, walking behind the bar and making their drinks. There’s something calming for me in pouring wine or mixing a Sex on the Beach. It’s precise in its chaos. You can do anything with a drink, the control is all yours. Want to double pour the alcohol? Sure. Asshole ordering? Short him the normal pour. Then charge him double. And tell him it’s an asshole tax. It’s good to be in charge.

“What have I missed?” I ask as I pass out their drinks.

“A bunch of girls hitting on Grady,” Sofie and Nola say at the same time, both of their faces pinched in jealousy. Hmm.

“Is that right?”

“I got new reading material out of it.” Grace blushes.

“What?”

“Someone recommended Stella Moore. She writes Daddy/littles romances.”

“And you’ve been reading?”

“Umm-hmm,” Grace confirms.

“I’ve heard about her, too!” Demitri yells from my office. “Aiden told me all about it.”

“Go back to hiding and forget you heard anything!” Grace yells back before covering her face in embarrassment. “I didn’t know he was back there.”

“Sorry.” I grimace. “He’ll be listening all night.”

“Terrific. At least now I know.”

My phone buzzes from its place under the bar.

Demitri: Tell her I’m sorry, and that I’d love to talk books with her if it won’t embarrass her more.

I turn the screen around and show Grace, much to Nola and Sofie’s amusement. She flips off the camera, and I hear Demitri’s laughter from the office.

“I don’t think I like him anymore,” she grouses.

“Yes, you do. And he’s serious about the books. The man has read every book I own and packages keep showing up with more.”

“Serious?”

“Very. Seriously, he’s got thoughts.”

She narrows her eyes at the camera but doesn’t say anything. The door opens and the first customers of the night walk in, a big group of men in suits, pulling at their ties. Businessmen. Cheap whiskey and fancy mixed drinks. The next group is my frat bros that come almost every weekend to play pool. Pitchers of beer on repeat all night. Next up are the younger women, probably from the University. They all look disappointed that it’s me behind the bar and not Grady. Mixed drinks and shots for them with names like Sex on the Beach and Flaming Orgasm. Blowjob and Buttery Nipple.

The room starts to fill up, and the night is going great. Brodie’s bringing food from the back and I’m busy. Wonder if Grady would be up to a part time gig on the weekends when we’re slammed?

I’m making another round of tonight’s sex drink, a Wet Pussy, when the door opens, and our mystery woman walks in. I make brief eye contact with her before I go back to making the drinks. I side eye the girls, all of whom are trying not to look directly at her, but they’ve obviously seen her. I finish my drink order and slide them across the bar to the girls.

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