Page 16 of Dirty Martini
My ears perk up at the anger in Elton’s voice through the closed bathroom door. I know I shouldn’t snoop, but I press my ear against the wood, trying to make out the muffled conversation on the other side.
“That’s what I’m being,”Rhys replies, but his voice is curt, the opposite of what Elton’s asking for.
I can hear Elton sigh deeply, his trademark dramatics coming out.“What’s your problem with Everest, man? You were a dick to him the entire time we were moving his stuff over. When you two came back from the bookstore, he looked spooked.”
My fingers were wrapped around the handle to leave the guest bathroom, only now I’m frozen. The fact I’m the subject of their conversation doesn’t sit well with me, but I’m too much of a coward to do anything but listen intently to see where this is going.
“You promised me.”
Promised what?
“You’re the one who seems to think he’s a lost puppy. I promised I’d look after him. There wasn’t any caveat about always having to be fucking polite.”
I take a stumbling step away from the door. Humiliation grows within me at Rhys’s words. They were talking about me behind my back? Making some sort of arrangement on my behalf that I didn’t know about? Maybe I should feel grateful that I have a brother who cares enough to put someone in my corner, but that’s not what I feel.
I’m pissed.
The embarrassment mixes with the anger I rarely feel. I’ve been the topic of their secret conversations; I’ve been practically thrust upon Rhys, nothing more than an inconvenience for him to…what? Hold my hand?Babysitme?
After a long pause, one of them sighs.“It’s not him. It’s me. Sorry, it’s been a rough couple of days at work, and I guess I’ve been taking it out on the wrong person.”
That gives me pause. I’ve always suspected it—known, really—but now the proof is in front of me.
Rhys never told Elton what happened.
I don’t know what to make of that. All these years, a myriad of possibilities always existed. Maybe he told Elton and Elton just kept it to himself, but that’s unlikely considering that there’s no way in hell he wouldn’t have said anything. Maybe Rhys lied and kept me out of the picture, protecting me for some weird reason.
Or, maybe, Rhys is holding on to the information to let it drop at the exact right time.
I try to settle my racing heart, but I don’t know how convincing it is when I open the door and exit the guest bathroom, finding Elton and Rhys waiting for me. It doesn’t seem like they suspect that I was listening in on their conversation, and I’m going to keep it that way.
“You ready, bro?” Elton asks, a wide smile on his face as he bounces on his toes. He claps his hands together. “It’s gonna be a great night.”
I nod, but my eyes keep darting to Rhys, who’s doing his best job to avoid looking at me. It’s hard for me though, because regardless of the hostility between us, he looks damn good.
I’m guessing what he’s wearing is his uniform because his black sleeveless shirt that showcases his muscular arms hasXOwritten in neon script across his chest. Rhys was never a big, bulky guy like me, more on the slim side with a runner’s body, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have definition in the thick thighs his jeans hug. His dark brown hair is hidden underneath his white baseball cap, which he wears backwards, and that in and of itself is practically drool worthy. Rhys has always been attractive to me and—shit—that hasn’t gone anywhere.
Elton says something I don’t catch, and Rhys’s eyes suddenly meet mine. In an instant, that wave of attraction becomes swallowed whole under his glare. It’s like an ice bath that reminds me that thinking of Rhys in that way is wrong. For so many reasons, but the most prevalent one being that I shouldn’t be gawking over a guy who I have no right to.
We decide we’ll all ride with Rhys and either stay at the club until close or catch a car home if he’s still working when we want to leave. Rhys talks Elton into letting him drive his BMW, and Elton takes the passenger seat next to Rhys, while I sit in the back.
As we pull out, Elton goes on about his trip to Valencia and how excited he is for his internship this summer. Rhys either doesn’t care that much or has perfected the silent, strong facade because he just nods along as Elton speaks. Once we get there, Rhys parks where all the other employees are, leading us through the backdoor of the club.
Since I’ve never been to XO, I’m momentarily mesmerized by the interior. It’s really cool, much classier and flashier than any other club I snuck into during high school. The majority of the large space is just a dance floor, with couches and loungechairs lining the walls. It looks like there’re private booths by the back of the club, hidden away behind the dance floor, obscured by glittering curtains. The main stage is one big platform, and the DJ stands behind his equipment at the top. As we move through the back, the bar comes into view. It’s circular, in the dead center of the club, and lit up with a bunch of different neon colors. Actually, the entire club itself is a cluster of strobe lights and beams, highlighting the cages that hang from the ceiling and dancers within them.
“Cool, right?” Elton shouts in my ear, clapping a hand on my shoulder as he navigates us to the bar where Rhys already is. “What’s your poison?”
The weight of his hand is a heavy discomfort, so I stutter, “Um, b-beer?”
“Fuck that,” he snorts, shaking his head as Rhys comes in front of us on the other side of the bar. “Let Rhys pick out what we’re drinking. He makes the best ones.”
“Um, excuse me, Elty. That would beme.” I turn my attention to a tiny pink-haired guy glaring at Elton, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “I’m the head bartender.”
Rhys snorts as he places two cocktail glasses on the bar. “Brittis the head bartender.”
“Well, I’m the muse. Britt might be more organized, but I’m the inspiration.”
A woman from the other side of the bar snorts, throwing up the finger without looking our way. “Fuck you, Skylar!”
