Page 35 of Wild Omega

He laughs again. “Well, you did say I could only sit down if I had the other fellow’s name.”

“Not like you listened,” I grumble.

“Not my strong point.” The bar manager shrugs. “Would never have started a business if I listened to everyone. But if you wanna talk, I’ll listen for fifteen minutes.”

“So just until closing time? Nice to know I’m on a deadline.”

He leans back and folds his arms across his chest. “Well, you don’t sound like you want me to make you any other sort of offer tonight, so yeah, just until we close.”

I sit up and my arm squelches as I peel it off the sticky table. The manager leans over and swipes both my arm and the table. I try not to think about how many surfaces that cloth has wiped. “Would you believe me if I told youtheBradley Jacks propositioned me tonight?”

He opens his mouth to scoff, but then his eyes narrow as he takes another look at me. “You know, now that I’ve got a good look at you, I might believe it.”

I slap one hand to my cheek. “This baby face is a curse. If I’m not mistaken as an omega, someone wants me to sub as an omega ’til they get one.” I snatch back the glass and drain the last few drops. What total bullshit.

He leans back in the padded seat and folds his arms over his chest. “I didn’t think you were an omega. Your scent’s spilling out everywhere.”

I rest my head back against the seat and close my eyes. “Great. So, I just need to become an alcoholic to finally smell like an alpha?”

He chokes on a laugh. “Not a career path I’d recommend.”

I groan. “Don’t get me started on careers. I just got fired by the worst boss I’ve ever had. You know, I put up with so much shit from that woman, and she still threw me out on my ass.” I squeeze my hand around the cup, wishing for a moment the glass would crack under my palm. You’d need to have actual alpha strength to manage that feat, though.

“Well, fuck her.”

“Figuratively only, yeah.” I snort. “Good luck finding someone else to work with who’s as patient as me, bitch!”

The manager nods, lines around his eyes crinkling. He’s got dark circles under his eyes that are probably permanent from working night shifts. “That’s the spirit. Know your worth.”

I eye him over, taking in the amused crease of his cheeks. He’s enjoying this. “Glad I can entertain you. What’s your name again?”

“Not-Callisto.”

I snort.

He swipes the empty glass and passes it to a server as she walks by. “I’m not mocking you. I’m actually relieved to see you still have a fighting spirit. It’s the ones who’ve given up I worry about.”

I grunt softly. Give up? Do I even have those words in my vocabulary?

He knocks one knuckle on the table to catch my attention. “So, what are you going to do, besides forgetting this conversation ever happened?”

I shrug. “Go home, sleep. Nurse this hangover while wishing I’d never got drunk.”

“And after that?”

“Look for another job.”

“That’s the way. Get back in the saddle.” He stands. “Your fifteen minutes are up.”

I eye the bar wistfully. “One more for the road?”

He shakes his head. “As much as I enjoy lining my pockets, any more booze and you’ll face-plant the road.”

I chuckle and slide across the booth cushion. I stagger as I get to my feet, as much from the corset cutting off my circulation as from the alcohol. For a moment, I feel warm and fuzzy and can’t remember why I came here, but the moment I step outside, reality hits me in the face along with a cold slap of chilly air. Winter doesn’t want to release us.

My stomach rebels, and I rush for the closest trash can. Ever tried bending right over while laced into a restrictive corset? Not the easiest position in the world. Especially not when you’ve had as many drinks as I have and the body won’t stop expelling them all.

The manager catches up, the door banging loudly behind him. “Hey, I ordered you an Omuber. Hope that’s okay. You’re not looking too good.”

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