Tiffany Snow: Out of Turn

He pressed his lips together, refusing to answer. I lowered my gun to point it at his knee.

“You like your knees?” I threatened.

Sweat broke out on his forehead and he swallowed heavily. “Fine,” he said. “Blane Kirk hired me, okay? Now can you put the gun down? Please?”

I reeled, the name dropping like a load of bricks on my consciousness. Confusion and shock was followed quickly by rage.

Lowering the gun, I got in the guy’s face.

“You tell your boss,” I spat, “to leave me the fuck alone. If he sends someone else to follow me, he’ll regret it and so will they.”

I left him standing in the alley while I walked quickly to The Drop, my hands shaking uncontrollably as I put the gun back in my purse. When I reached work, I locked myself in a bathroom stall.

My heart was pounding and tears wet my lashes as I tried to hold them back. I breathed, closing my eyes and trying to get a grip.

Why would Blane have someone follow me? It didn’t make any sense. Was he afraid I was going to go to the press about the relationship we’d had? Leak all the sordid details? There were plenty of women who could do that. And if the guy had been telling the truth about making sure nothing happened to me, then what was going on that would put me in danger?

I couldn’t concentrate on any of this, my emotions still overruling my logic. Blane still thought of me, albeit in his usual heavy-handed, controlling way. It was pathetic how much of an impact that made on me. I was pathetic. How embarrassing.

God, I needed a drink.

I escaped the bathroom and clocked in. We were already busy and I had little time to do more than throw a quick hello to Scott and Tish, also working again tonight. However, I did find time to toss back a shot of bourbon, to steady myself.

A group of four college guys came in at some point during the night, setting up at a table close to the bar. They wore casual clothes that I could tell were expensive brands, which meant they had money. I told Scott I’d take the table and headed over there.

They were cute and funny and I flirted shamelessly as I delivered their drinks. Working for tips required its own kind of skill. I used to be friendly but kept my distance. Then a stripper I’d met a few months ago had given me some good advice.

You’ve got assets. Use them to your advantage. Men are fools for a nice set of boobs.

I’d taken it to heart and my tips had improved. Even though the uniform Romeo made us wear irritated me, it showed off an impressive display of cleavage. And judging by the college boys’ lingering stares as they got more inebriated, it worked. If I was lucky, I’d get twenty bucks off that table tonight, maybe more if they got drunk enough.

Scott and I had a good rhythm when we worked together, and he was fun. He teased me mercilessly, making me laugh. I could almost push the whole incident with the man Blane had hired to the back of my mind.

But not completely, which was why I didn’t turn them down when the college guys wanted me to do a round of shots with them. Business was slowing as one o’clock neared, so I didn’t feel guilty leaving Scott behind the bar while I hung out with the table of four, though only two of the guys remained. The others were out on the dance floor with girls they’d picked up.

“So, Kathleen,” one of them said. I thought his name was Bill or Brian, something with a B. “You busy after work?” He’d slung his arm around my waist as I stood next to their high-top table.

I tipped back the shot in my hand, the whiskey burning a fiery path down my throat to my belly, and tried to concentrate on what he’d said.

“Sorry,” I replied. “Gotta get home tonight. Maybe some other time.” I smiled to soften the rejection. Just because I wanted to relieve them of some of their cash didn’t mean I wanted a date, even if he was a good-looking guy.

“We could have a real good time,” he insisted. His hand drifted down to my ass.

“Just the three of us,” the other guy chimed in. I wanted to say his name was Trey.

I looked at him in surprise and he laughed. “Betcha never done that before, right?”

If I’d expected Bill/Brian to object, I was disappointed. He seemed all for the idea. He’d gripped my waist and tugged me back between his thighs so I faced Trey, who’d scooted his stool closer.

“You’re fuckin’ hot, Kathleen,” Bill/Brian said in my ear. “We’ll take good care of you. Don’t you worry.”

I swallowed hard, trying to fight the rising panic in my chest just as Trey leaned over and kissed me. My hands automatically came up to push him away, but they were caught and held by the guy behind me.

Well, fuck. There goes my tip, I thought sourly.

I jerked my head back hard, cracking Bill/Brian in the face. He yelped and let me go. Now free, I hurriedly slipped out from between the two men.

“I’m not into that,” I said calmly from a couple feet away. Bill/Brian was cupping his nose with his hand.

Trey spoke first. “Sorry there, Kathleen. We meant no harm.”

I eyed him suspiciously, but he seemed sincere, for a drunk guy.

“Yeah, sorry,” Bill/Brian said, his voice muffled from behind his hand. “The way you were acting… Well, we obviously got the wrong idea there.”

I nodded and headed back to the bar. So I was such an obviously easy lay that a couple of college guys assumed I would be into a threesome one-night stand?

I poured myself a drink.

“Those guys get out of hand?” Scott asked, sidling up next to me.

I shook my head. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

He nodded wordlessly and moved away, Tish handing him an order to fill.

By the time I’d restocked the bar and had begun cleanup, the table of guys had gone. They left me fifty bucks, which I supposed was their way of saying sorry. Whatever. It was much more than I thought I’d get after nailing that guy in the face.

Scott and Tish left after I assured them I’d close up.

“You sure?” Tish asked as she grabbed her purse.

“No worries,” I said. “See you Monday.”

When I was alone, I locked the front door and turned off all the lights but the ones that shone directly down on the bar. I was keyed up, despite the drinks I’d had. The incident with the college guys bothered me and I still couldn’t get Blane out of my head.

Maybe I should’ve gone home with Trey and Bill. Or Brian. Or whatever his name had been.

With a sigh, I eased myself onto a barstool and took a swig of the beer I’d grabbed. I rested my head in my hand, my elbow braced on the bar. My other hand toyed with the beer bottle. I wasn’t in a hurry to get home.

Jeff, the cook at The Drop, had made me a hamburger earlier, and glowered at me until I’d taken a few bites. Jeff was ex-Army, bald, and had tattoos up and down his arms. Romeo was terrified of him, though Jeff had always been nice to me. He was a man of few words, content to cook and smoke his cigarettes, usually at the same time. He’d taken a particular interest in making me eat lately, which was sweet of him.

I was lucky, I told myself. I had great friends who cared about me. And I was being cruel to them by making them worry. I just needed to get over it already. People broke up, got divorced, or died all the time. I was not the first to experience heartbreak.

A prickling on the back of my neck had me looking over my shoulder at the expanse of windows lining the walls. I couldn’t see out, could see only my reflection in the opaque glass as it reflected the dim light from the bar.

Dismissing the sensation, I finished off the beer and tossed the bottle. Time to go home.

The streets were quiet and empty at this hour. I walked slowly to my car. I loved summer nights, when the heat of the day had passed and the warm darkness was like a welcoming blanket. It had rained earlier, leaving the air smelling fresh and clean. The moon peeked from behind clouds that were clearing out and I paused to look at it. Bright and full, it was a good reminder that life goes on, that each day would get just a tiny bit easier until one day I’d wake up and not think about Blane at all.