Page 5 of Dirty Martini
“Ricky’s going to be there!” Skylar adds, as if the mention of his douchebag boyfriend is enough of an incentive for me to join them. “What’s that look for?”
“Get back to work, Skylar.” I push past him, my arms tense and tight with the weight of the ice bucket in my hands.
Stomping his foot, he crosses his arms over his chest with a pout, looking every bit the brat he is. We walk out the backdoor and he scans the dance floor, eyes migrating to where Cassius is stationed behind his sound equipment. “I’m going to bug Cassius.”
“What. Don’t—” But it’s already too late, and he’s halfway across the dance floor, headed to his best friend. “Nobody fucking listens to me.”
When I get back behind the bar, Britt’s there serving all the customers Skylar and I left her. She eyes me with affectionate irritation as she shoves a bottle of vodka in my hands. “Two Midnight Moons.Now.”
I snort and do as she demands, helping her catch up with all the orders she’s taken while Skylar and I were in the back. As I work, I glance around the club, eyes automatically filtering out all the guests to spy Skylar bouncing on his heels besides Butchat the door. Fuck. Good luck to him trying to get that guy to go out after our shifts.
The night goes by quickly like it always does, and three a.m. rolls around before we all know it. At one point, Skylar finally decided to grace us with his presence behind the bar and helped us clear the rest of the people out. All of us are tired, reeking of booze and sweat, as Davis gathers us around the fancy couches by the corner of the club. Now that we’re closed, the floodlights are on, showcasing just how gross this place gets after a Friday night. The floors are littered with random trash and coated in sticky moisture—a mix of sweat and alcohol—and none of us sit on the leather couches until Cassius hands us all antibacterial wipes to disinfect them.
Britt’s thrown on a hoodie and some sweats, and I help her set the register drawers down on the table in front of her as we sit. Next to me, Cassius leans back against the couch, arms outstretched behind him with Skylar on his lap, nodding every now and then as his best friend goes on and on about a new drink idea he’s come up with. Butch stands behind us—I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen him sit a day in his life—silent as he waits for Davis to start.
Once we’re all situated, Davis stands in front of us. For a club owner, he’s fairly young, around his mid-thirties, I would guess, but holds himself with an air of rigidity that could fool you. He clasps his hands in front of him, motioning for Britt to start counting the cash for the night.
“Wonderful shift,” he says, giving us as close to a smile as he can manage while Britt disperses our tips. He juts his chin at Butch. “Updates?”
Butch scratches the back of his neck with his gigantic hand, tips of his ears pink as he’s forced to speak in front of all of us. “Only needed to throw one guy out tonight. Everybody else was okay. People are…” he trails off, gulping as he meets Davis’seyes, as if he doesn’t want to say what he’s thinking. “People are pushing back at the new cover charge.”
I scoff. That’s an understatement. That preppy fucker from earlier tonight wasn’t the only one that bitched about how much we’re charging people to get in nowadays. My eyes slide to Davis to gauge his response but, like always, I see nothing there besides blank apathy.
He completely ignores Butch’s comment and turns to our DJ. “Cassius?”
Skylar doesn’t realize it’s not polite to talk while other people are, or maybe he doesn’t care, so Cassius has to lovingly slap his hand over his mouth to get him to be quiet. “I need new headphones,” he says, but it comes out as a yell that makes Skylar flinch. When he notices, he settles a calming hand under his shirt, rubbing at his back as he continues. “The ones I have now are fucking up my hearing.”
Davis nods. “Noted. Skylar?”
Skylar rips Cassius’s hand off his mouth, looking like a pleased puppy, practically wagging his tail. “Blue Nipples! We’ll get food coloring and smoke and make it sparkle?—”
“Just tell me how much you need, and I’ll write a check,” Davis says, cutting him off. He looks around the room and raises an eyebrow. “Anybody else?”
We all shake our heads, even though Skylar obviously wants to continue, but one warm look from Cassius has him miming zipping his lips.
Davis dismisses everyone once Britt’s given us all our tips for tonight. Skylar still tries to get me to join them, showing me with manic jazz hands that he even got Butch to agree to come along, but I settle for going home. It’s about four in the morning once we all manage to leave the club. Everyone else is piling into Britt’s pickup truck to head over to Jolly’s while I hop into my rundown Saturn and head back to my place.
Even though I’ve lived here all my life, Miami never ceases to amaze me. No matter what time, day or night, it’s bustling with people. Whether it’s commuters trying to make it to work on time, or drunk idiots Ubering home, there’s never a shortage of people on the streets.
I take the familiar drive from XO back to the apartment I share with Elton. Pulling into the high-rise underground parking lot, I swipe my security card to get past the gate and park in my assigned spot. Then I’m grabbing my backpack and heading to the elevator that’ll take me straight to the penthouse.
I’m fully aware that I live in a luxury most people can’t and will never be able to afford. Fuck,Ican’t even afford it. The meager portion of rent I give Elton once a month doesn’t even cover the tip for the doorman, but my best friend is nothing if not persistent. He wanted to live with me, and that was the end of the story. I’m thankful that he and his parents have been so generous through the years, helping me when I can barely manage to buy my own groceries, let alone pay my own rent.
I try not to let the bitterness ofwhyI have to rely on their generosity weigh on me as the elevator opens to the entrance of the penthouse. There’s no point in getting upset. Not when life just keeps moving along, with or without me.
With a sigh, I drop my backpack by the elevator door, peeling off my tank top and tossing it in the dirty hamper by the laundry room on the way to the kitchen. I don’t bother turning on the light as I open the fridge, stomach rumbling while I figure out what to eat this late at night—or early in the morning.
“Fuck. You’re so hot, Rhys.”
I jump, cursing and banging my head against the lip of the fridge. I spin on my heels, angry glare directed at Elton who’s sitting on one of our leather couches in the living room.
“What the fuck, Elt?” I question, flicking on the lights and illuminating that fact that he’s…doing absolutely nothing. “What are you doing sitting in the dark like some creep?”
Elton ignores my insult and cocks his head to the side as he gestures at my hat. “Do you fuck in the backward baseball cap? Do women like that?”
That makes me snort, the picture becoming just a bit clearer at his curiosity about my sex life. “Let me guess. Hot date didn’t go well tonight?”
“No, I mean, yeah. I got laid, but…” he huffs, leaning back on the couch with a pout. “I swear, I did everything right. It was just so fucking awkward, man. I think I’m losing my touch.”
