Page 1 of The Dance
1
Blake
The clinkingof alcohol bottles mixed with the chatter of the packed bar. It was a sound that brought me the most peace. Being on my feet, pouring drinks, and talking to people my entire shift was never dull, and I fucking loved it. I didn’t have to pretend to be someone else or worry about being overshadowed by my brother’s success.
My parents’ circle of friends believed Brandon was the golden child and I was the fuck-up. It was true to an extent since I was known to get into trouble while he was a successful businessman, owning a chain of gyms in multiple cities. Everyone saw me asonlya bartender. They didn’t know I wanted to own a nightclub or bar but hadn’t yet saved enough in my twenty-three years to make it a reality. But I would one day. I had to. It was my aspiration to be the person people called to get their names on the VIP list.
I wanted to be important—tofeelimportant. I wanted my parents to look at me like they did Brandon, as though I made them happy and they were proud of me. I tried. I really did, but it was hard because I also desired to be the life of the party.
In high school, I wasthe man. The one people came to when they needed booze and were underage. Unfortunately, that turned into me getting a DUI within minutes of turning eighteen. Instead of jail time, the judge ordered me to complete an ungodly amount of community service hours, pay a thousand bucks, and I had my license suspended for thirty days. My parents pulled some strings, and I helped at an apple farm during the summer forcommunity service. Most of it was back-breaking work, but it ended with me fucking the owner, who happened to be my mom’s best friend. Despite the hard labor of picking apples in the scorching Texas sun, it was an enjoyable summer, to say the least.
But afterthat summer, I was under the eagle eye of my folks, especially since I hadn’t gone off to college like my perfect brother had. When I turned twenty-one and became a bartender, I moved the fuck out of their place, but that meant saving money to open my own bar was tough. I had rent and bills to pay, and I was working for someone else.
“What can I get, y’all?” I asked as I pointed at the sexy brunette.
“Coors Light,” she replied.
“You can’t have beer on your twenty-first birthday,” the girl she was with argued.
“Why not? That’s what we drink on campus.”
“Exactly.” The redhead rolled her eyes. “We’re not on campus. We’re at a bar.”
“What should I get then?”
I was seconds away from walking to the next customer, but then the friend looked at me and ordered two Long Islands. I nodded my approval and grinned. “Looking to get fucked-up, are we?”
“Something like that.” The redhead beamed.
“What’s in a Long Island?” the brown-haired beauty asked. The redhead was hot too, but not the one who piqued my interest.
“What isn’t is the better question,” her friend replied.
I didn’t need to check IDs since that was done at the door, so I started to make the drinks. “It’s your twenty-first?”
“Yeah.” She smiled.
“Why didn’t you go to Vegas or somewhere like that?” I had. Got fucked-up every night I was there, too.
“Because I have school and it’s a Thursday night.”
“Twelve.” I slid the drinks to the girls, telling them what they owed for the drinks in the process. “You could have skipped your classes tomorrow and made it a long weekend,” I suggested.
“With what money?” the friend asked. “We’re college students.”
“Where at?” I took the fifteen bucks the birthday girl handed me.
“The University of Houston.”
“Ah, Cougars.” I smiled and turned to the cash register to punch in their order and get their change. I placed the three bucks on the bar. “What’s your major?”
The brunette slid the money back to me as my tip. “Business, but minoring in dance, which is what I really want to do.”
“Dance? Really?” I took the dollar bills and stuffed them into the tip cup I had behind the bar.
“Why is that a surprise?” the friend asked. She took a sip of the drink I had made and started to choke. “Holy shit, this is strong.”
“Aren’t all Long Islands?” I countered. They were almost pure alcohol, and I’d poured theirs with a heavy hand, given it was the brunette’s birthday.
