Page 13 of Dirty Money
“Actually, no,” he smarted off. There was that sexy, devious little smile again that made her heart beat a bit harder. “I’m actually fairly hungry. Can you bring me a menu?”
“You’re not staying.”
“As a matter of fact, I am. I’ll be here until you crack and talk to me.”
“What’s there to talk about?” she asked, exasperated. “You’re not my type, ok?”
“You’re intimidated by my money,” he stated with a flat expression which told her he was well aware of why she’d run.
“No!”Well, yeah.“Personally, I’m just not a fan of the whole flashy car, fancy dinner, entitled men thing. Plenty of women are, though. I bet you could pick up any of the other waitresses, or patrons, in this building and they’ll be all about it.”
“I’m not here for them. I’m here for you.” The sincerity in his eyes, mixed with a little bit of hurt and sadness and slight desperation, softened something in Aullie but she did her best to shake it off.
“Why me?” She was surprised by the way her voice broke as she asked it.
“I already told you,” he said with a heart-stopping smile. “I’m bewitched by you.”
Aullie sighed, defeated and speechless. “Do you want another beer or something?”
“Yes, please,” Weston gave her a wicked smile. “Flattered that you remember my beer, by the way.”
Aullie rolled her eyes and walked away. She couldn’t believe the boldness, the audacity, the clearly crazy man was displaying. However, she’d wasted too much time talking to him and had some catching up to do.
Weston moved quickly to the back of her mind as she made her rounds through the bar. Food, beer and, liquor orders were taken and delivered, credit cards were run and returned. Weston ate and Aullie wished he would leave, but he didn’t.
Over an hour later, she brought him his third beer. “So, when are you leaving?”
“I don’t know. Depends on when I get to see you again.”
“You’re actually just going to sit here until I agree to go out with you again?”
“Yes. I have emails to catch up on anyway.”
“Oh, from your little work from home job?” Aullie glared as she mocked his lie-by-omission he’d told on their first date.
“Hey, I do actually work from home most of the time,” he defended himself. “So, when’s it going to be?”
“Ugh. Fine. I’m off Monday night again. I’ll text you or whatever if you just leave.”
“Why? Am I distracting you?” he asked, wickedly.
“Ugh, whatever, yes. Go,” Aullie urged.
“Good, I’ll see you Monday then.” He looked smug as he slipped a bill from his wallet under his glass and stood to leave. Before Aullie could protest, he put a hand up and said, “Before you get all huffy about the money, I occupied your table for hours and that’s a fair amount, considering. Now, you have a good night. I look forward to hearing from you.”
Oh, that purr in his delightfully foreign voice. He stood so close, even in the packed, stinky bar, she could smell his musky scent. It took everything Aullie had to maintain her aloof air. “Yeah. Bye.”
Torn between relief and disappointment as he left, Aullie went back to work. She wasn’t closing, which she thanked God for. Her feet ached but she still had a few hours left to go, so she sucked it up. Rent, rent, rent, she chanted to herself as she picked up other people’s trash. Her job wasn’t a source of pride in her life, but the mundane nature of the work left plenty of free space in her mind to ruminate over Weston.
Was she really going to text him? If she didn’t, would he come back? Did she want to see him? Yeah, kinda, she internally admitted.
The last two hours at work dragged painfully by. Men whooped and hollered, glasses clinked, and chairs scraped the floor. The noise died slowly as drunk patrons stumbled their way out the door.
The music was almost overbearing in the quieter bar, and Aullie caught the bartender’s attention. She made a twisting motion with her fingers to mime adjusting the volume.
“So, how was your night?”
The chair across from Aullie squawked as Brittany sat down across from her. Two large gray tubs full of forks and knives, a mountain of napkins, and a box of sticky tabs occupied the table surface between them. With a clink, a swoosh and a stick they fell into the tedious rhythm of rolling silverware together. This nightly ritual had become prime gossip time among the girls at Tackleman’s. As each of them joined in to finish up their side work, everyone got filled in on the Weston saga as Aullie vented out her frustrations.
