Christine Zolendz - Brutally Beautiful

Again, I gave him a sweet smile, but damn, my hands were clenched into sweaty fists that were aching to knock a few of his perfect teeth out. “Wow. Big head, small mind, huh? I wouldn’t have pegged you as mentally incompetent, but I guess you really can’t judge a book by its cover.” I stood up slowly and leaned both hands down on the table. “I won’t dance for your money, Mr. Grayson. Sorry to shatter your clichéd stereotypical expectations of me.” He had no idea who I was or what things I had accomplished in my lifetime. Then again, look at what he was seeing; a pale faced woman, wearing ripped jeans, worn sneakers with holes in them, and hustling tables in a strip joint in the middle of nowhere, so maybe he’s right to assume things. I didn’t know. I didn’t care. I spun on my heels and walked away. Screw him. I knew this was the part I had to play now, but GOD, did it twist me up inside not being able to be myself in front of everyone .

“So why are you here then? If you’re not this clichéd version of a sheep I believe you are? Why not do something better with your life?” He barked. Oh, what now? Was he trying to save the poor waitress with his Prince Charming complex or was it an ignorant attempt at continuing the conversation with me?

Looking back, I met my eyes to his challenging ones. “How do you know I haven’t? And how do you know that this, right here, isn’t better than someplace else I’ve been?”

His mouth snapped shut. His dangerous dark features softened for a mere second before I turned my back to him and left him alone in the bar. This was his brother’s bar, I was sure if he wanted a drink bad enough, he’d know how to pour it, or snap his fingers to get some magical fairy that could. I sat behind the bar, pulled out my phone and pulled up some online newspapers to read figuring it was going to be a long night with him staring at me from his back table, fuming like a toddler for not getting under my skin. To hell with him, my skin was way too tough for some pathetic gorilla in a Gucci suit to break through.

Within ten minutes, I was blissfully comfortable reading the New York Times on the small screen of my phone, no longer thinking about Mr. Grayson . The next twenty minutes passed without incident, until a cold wind blew in from two older men coming through the front doors. The gentlemen, who were regulars, greeted me with a warm wave and before I could even get to their table, they called for two beers and two plates of burgers and fries.

Peeking my head into the kitchen, I whistled for Trevor, who was cooking that night and had to wake him up off one of the cots in the back room to cook. He groaned and muttered profanities at me playfully all the way back into the bar area, and I came out of the back laughing. My eyes went directly to the table Kade had sat in before, and to my relief, it was empty. But, when I grabbed two cold beers from the coolers behind the bar, I heard the slide of one of the bar stools across the wooden floors right next to me.

“Have a drink with me,” Kade’s husky voice said.

I looked up, stunned by his demand. He was leaning against the stool, which he had pulled up next to mine and was pouring an enormous glass of brandy for himself. There was no malice in his expression, no disgust from before, but his eyes were suspicious and cautious. Maybe he has multiple personalities?

Without giving him an answer, I turned and walked towards the two customers with their beers, telling them their food would be out in a few minutes. Walking back behind the bar, I pulled my stool as far as I possibly could from him and sat down, ignoring his glare.

“Did you not hear me or are you just ignoring me? Maybe you’re too simpleminded to understand me?” he demanded. Nope, not multiple personalities, just one big egotistical shitty one .

I laughed a small soft laugh and gave him a sad smile. I was too old to play games. I was too messed up with my own issues to care about his, and I didn’t do drama, not even on TV. “No, thank you, Mr. Grayson. Trying to intimidate me and putting me down might make you feel like more of a man in your small world, but it does nothing for me. I’ll enjoy sitting here alone a lot more.” I turned my back on him and continued reading my phone, in my mind betting that was the first time anyone told him no. I’m sure Kade Grayson had a long line of interested women offering their dancing services or doormat services to him for his money, but I wasn’t going to be one of them.

From the corner of my eye, I could still see the intensity of his stare. The man made me want to turn my head and stick out my tongue at him, and kick him hard in the shin. I didn’t though. I just watched him drain his drink, quietly place it back on the bar, push off from the stool, and walk to the exit as he whispered, “Goodnight, Lainey.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Grayson.”

After a while, when the men that were sitting alone finished their meal, they waved goodbye, leaving me with a generous tip, and I was alone. I didn’t want to let myself wonder about the mental state of Dylan’s brother, but I found myself analyzing what I might have done to cause such hostility in a man that had, only moments before, looked at me with such intense desire in his eyes that it made my knees weak. I came to no conclusions.

After a few quiet hours, Dylan and Bree came back from their date, followed by a friend of Dylan’s they had met up with along the way. Dylan jumped behind the bar, had us sit around a table, and brought out some beers for us. I just sipped at mine, feeling more and more uncomfortable with the events that occurred with Kade a few hours before. I wished I understood where his anger stemmed from; it could not have truly been from me, so I wondered where the misplaced anger was born. Being the person I was, I couldn’t walk away from a puzzle, no matter how complicated it presented itself to be. Especially if it took my mind off of the situation I was in.

“You are certainly as nice looking as Dylan said you were,” a male voice murmured at the table. Hmm. Nice looking…I hated that adjective used on me…

I shook the thoughts about Kade out of my head and looked up to see Dylan’s friend. Short brown hair, angular features, and a long Roman nose. A nose, which he held up in the air and constantly wrinkled as though criticizing a nasty odor that no one else could detect. He had a handsome smile; a right as rain Mr. Perfect . He was nowhere near as shockingly handsome as Kade and his dangerous dark features. With that thought, I gulped down my beer and had the strong desire to punch myself in the face. Why the hell would I compare him to Kade? Kade was a mean piece of work, and someone I would never allow myself to spend time with, no matter how attractive he was. I learned my lessons well about good-looking, dangerous, powerful men and believe me, Kade needed to be the last thing on my mind.

“I’m Francis, by the way.”

“Lainey. Pleasure to meet you,” I smiled.

Bree giggled next to me, obviously happy about this little set up. She wanted me to be happy here, and I understood her wanting to stay and make a home here. I just didn’t know what my plans were yet.

Francis talked with me for the rest of the night. He was a yapper and a gossipmonger, talking about everything and everyone. I let him dominate most of our conversations, which he fell into easily and I found him witty and kind. And so freaking boring . But right then, boring was good and the lack of effect and attraction was good for me, helped me to keep a distance. He was some sort of Environmental Scientist that specialized in something or other and had just returned home from somewhere in the Artic, and some other things that I really couldn’t stand to keep up with, but he was thrilled about telling me, so I just listened as much as humanly possible. He was born and raised in Oregon; married then divorced, backpacked across Europe for a few years while studying abroad, and thankfully was too narcissistic and self-absorbed to ask any personal questions about me.