Authors: Casey Elliot
*****
I went back to the bar the next day after grabbing some food in town and taking a cruise around the bay. There wasn't anything more interesting in town, and I was still pretty impressed with the bar's goddess protector, Hayley. I decided that trying to get her in bed would be a much better pastime than looking for sea glass or out-of-state license plates — or whatever people did on vacation. Having never had one, I wasn't sure what the deal was. I would have rather been at work, but orders are orders.
I was glad to see she was working again and, if my eyes didn't deceive me, for about 0.02 seconds, she was glad to see me too.
"You're back," she said, when I sat on the stool across from her.
"I'm thirsty."
She poured me a pint without asking what I wanted, and slid it toward me. It sloshed a little on the hand I had resting on the counter.
"Oops." She didn't look sorry. Those luscious lips were curved up in a wicked smile.
She went back to her work and I watched the sports on TV for a bit. I wasn't all that into football though, so I spent most of the time glancing down to see what she was up to. She commanded the respect of the bar with such assured grace that I was sure that there was an untapped talent underneath those beer-stained clothes.
I mean, there was a lot that I liked to imagine as being under those digs, but I was also sure that she would have felt at ease in a high pressure board room or in a courtroom fighting tooth and claw to keep an innocent man from prison. What in the heck she was doing in the middle of the sticks, serving beer to men like Herb who spilled it as a matter of habit, I wasn't sure.
But, that's not what I was there to find out. I was there to find out what she looked like naked.
Hayley seemed determined to ignore me, but she was a better bartender than she was a brick wall. I finished my drink and she was there almost right away, asking if I wanted another.
"You look even better today than you did yesterday," I commented, ignoring her question.
She gave me a flat look. "You were drunk yesterday."
"Still remember everything."
"So, you remember being a tremendous ass?"
I winked at her. "There's only one tremendous ass in this bar right now."
She immediately began to flush. The visual was thrilling.
"Do you want another beer or not?" she asked.
What I wanted was to make her so flustered that the only thing she would be able to bring me was home with her. I didn't say that.
"Yes." I looked deep into her green gaze while I said it, willing my licentious thoughts into her head. She stared back at me before flushing again and storming off to fetch my beer. Maybe I would enjoy my vacation after all.
Hayley
Dang it. If he kept giving me eyes like that, I wasn't going to make it through my shift without jumping him. I wondered what the other bar patrons would think if the bartender and one of the customers started fiercely making out on the bar top. I doubt they'd mind. I'm sure worse has happened within these walls.
Still, that wasn't going to be the case. I was here to work; he was here to drink. The only relationship we would be having was me handing him beers and him handing me money.
After pouring a pint for him, I passed it over and turned away before he could say anything else. Men were trouble — no if’s, and’s, or but’s. I'd come to that tough-to-swallow realization when the last man in my life had unceremoniously made the Great Escape. That wouldn't have been too much of a problem in itself — if he hadn't taken off with my savings at the same time.
I was just working here until I got enough money to go back to school, and I tried to keep that in mind during the moments when I felt myself slipping too far into the bartender role. It was like a groove had been hollowed out just for me on the grimy floor behind the counter. If I finished school and wanted to come back, that was fine, but I had to keep my eyes on the prize.
No part of my plan involved getting my heartbroken by another sexy asshole with a motorcycle.
The bar steadily became a bit busier over the course of the evening. Wednesday was our music bingo night, and you might not think it, but bikers love music bingo.
I saw a few regulars besides Herb, and greeted them. We didn't really have much in the way of regulars. There were a couple locals who liked to hang out in the bar when it wasn't too busy, but other than that, the people I knew ebbed and flowed with the changing of the seasons, their club's events, and whatever they turned their fancy to at the time.
Tamsy started handing out the bingo cards, and I went along the bar to see who wanted one. Herb always did music bingo, but he only marked down half of the songs that were played. He either didn't know much about music or just didn't care all that much about bingo. When I slid a sheet in front of Sexy Asshole (my new name for him), he simply fixed me with a disbelieving grin.
"You think I want to play music bingo?"
I met his challenging gaze. "Everybody wants to play music bingo."
When the silence lengthened, I went to pull the paper back. His hand shot out and landed on top of mine.
"What do I get if I win?" he asked.
"Depends on the round. Top prize is two hundred and fifty bucks," I replied.
His eyes bore into mine, as he enunciated his next words. "Not good enough."
Call me an idiot, but I liked to play with fire.
"What would tempt you?" I smiled coquettishly.
"You."
I could have sworn you could see my heart pounding in my chest when he said that. All of the sudden, his hand on mine felt like I was dipping my fingers into fire. I smoothed out my expression and answered, "Seems hardly fair to raise the stakes so high without making them equally high for you."
He shrugged. "Fair enough. Name your terms, Hayley."
Having him say my name was like music to my ears. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he won.
"I want to know what's got you so pent up," I said. "And, who the heck you are."
He lifted his hand from mine and extended it out. "I'll take a dabber, please."
Our DJ, Stan, began to go into his spiel about how the game was played, what the prizes were, etc., etc., but I barely heard it. I made a show of checking on the other people at the bar to see if they needed anything, but I was really just trying to distract myself from thinking about our little bargain.
Each player had two games, and each game had two chances of winning. There were a couple dozen people in the bar, all playing music bingo.
I didn't know much about odds or statistics, and now, I was wishing I had paid more attention when I took it in freshman year.
Stan started playing the music, and I couldn't help but scan Sexy Asshole's card out of the corner of my eye each time I passed to do my rounds. I did my rounds more than usual.
The first two songs were busts for him, but the third one he had. He looked up and caught me staring when he found it on his sheet, and smiled devilishly as he dabbed the square. I felt a hot shiver run through me. He got a few squares on the first card, but didn't get anywhere close to making a full line. I wasn't sure whether I was relieved or put out.
There was a break between games, and during the break, he ordered another beer. I tried to act nonchalant as I checked out his card.
"Doesn't look like you're doing so hot, chief," I observed.
He smirked. "It's fine. I'm used to going for a few rounds."
I was pouring his drink at the time and it spilled over. I let go of the tap and sloshed the drink in front of him. He laughed, and it was the first time I'd seen his eyes filled only with humor, and none of the darkness that I was so familiar with.
"Since I lost one game, and don't intend to lose another, I think it's fair that I give you a little something about me," he said.
"Oh yeah? What's that?"
"My name. It's Gage."
"Gage," I said. "Nice name."
He gave me a cocky smile. "I'm only telling you because that way, you have something to call out later."
"The only calling out I'll be doing later is on you and your bullshit," I remarked. I headed to the other side of the bar and chatted to a couple regulars there, pretending that I didn't feel that heat of Gage's eyes on my back — pretending that it didn't feel very good.
Gage
I found Hayley amusing in a way that I hadn't found anything amusing in a long time. Our little game was exactly what I needed and, though I was loathe to admit it, the music bingo wasn't so bad either.
The second game started off with a bang. I got two squares right away, right next to each other. I saw Hayley eyeing my card again, so I took a long drink of my beer and licked my lips. Pink seemed to be becoming her natural shade.
I didn't get the next couple of songs, but that was okay. I made up for it pretty quickly, and I was only two squares away from winning when the first person yelled bingo. Still, I had a pretty good shot. I got the next song, and the next time Hayley came by, she did a double take.
"You're only one away," she stated.
"Yup."
"Huh."
She ignored the other patrons while we waited for the next song to start. The look she was giving my card — indecisiveness, mixed with longing — was already turning me on. I wondered whether it would be worth it to wait until her shift was over or if I should just take her out back after I got my bingo and have my way with her next to the side of the building.
The next song wasn't one of mine, but nobody else yelled bingo either. The air between Hayley and I was tense. One more square, a bit of ink on a piece of paper, and I'd have her. I could practically taste my success — and I bet it would taste sweet.
The DJ was just about to change tracks when a shout went up through the crowd.
"Bingo!" yelled an old man a few seats down. It was the one who had tried to talk to me the night before.
I ground my teeth. The old drunkard had no idea what he had just lost me.
Hayley let out a relieved sigh, though it was a bit too orchestrated for me to believe that she wholly meant it. It was written all over her face that she was disappointed. Still, she put on a cocky grin and grabbed the dabber out of my hand. "Too bad," she said. "Looks like music bingo's not your game."
I smoothed out my frown until my face was impassive again. "Looks like it's not either of ours."
She went around picking up bingo cards while the doddling old man went to the DJ to have his card checked and collect his prize. He came back holding a Home Depot gift card like he'd won the golden goose.
Hayley went over to congratulate him, and he beamed at her and thrust a couple dollar bills into her tip jar.
When she came back to me, she had an expectant look on her face. "So?"
I leveled her gaze and finished off my pint. "So?"
She crossed her arms over her chest, and my eyes followed the movement before lazily dragging back up to her face.
"Spill, Gage," she said. "I want to know everything."
I tapped on the rim of my glass and she pulled it over to her side of the bar with a frustrated sigh. After putting a new beer in front of me, she re-crossed her arms.
I crossed my arms as well. "I never said when I'd tell you."
The first thing to flash across her face was ire. After a moment though, I could see that she was; at least, a little bit impressed.
"You're an asshole," she said finally. Then, she stormed off to the other end of the bar where the old man was still going on about his Home Depot gift card.
Hayley
I couldn't believe it! After all that — the tension, the indecision, the tortured desire — he had the balls to pull that shit on me? Christ, it was like trying to ask a question to the Sphinx.
I went about my work for the night and made a point of ignoring him. He seemed to find that hilarious, and anytime we made eye contact — he was hard not to look at, okay? — he smirked.
When we were ready to close, Gage slid off of his bar stool with the ease of a trained predator. I supposed that was what he was. Why couldn't it have been that easy to get rid of him the night before?
He sauntered off into the darkness, and I wondered whether I'd ever see him again.
*****
To my great surprise, Gage came back the next night — and the next. All week, he came in and sat in the same spot, ordering the same beer, engaging in the same sexual cocky banter with me.
Over the next few days, I would even say we became — maybe not friends — but at least, companions of circumstance. Whatever had brought him to our town and my bar kept bringing him back. Admittedly, I was always happy to be the one in full possession of his attention throughout his visits. The weekend started up, but he never once noticed any of the skinny girls with tiny skirts that flaunted themselves for him. He was undoubtedly the hottest guy in the bar, perhaps the hottest guy that had
ever
been in the bar, and yet, he only had eyes for me.