My Bachelor (15 page)

Chapter 20

Eliot

Friday nights at
Sparky’s tended to be extra boisterous, especially with the nine to five crowd.  I patted my pocket, which was extra heavy with tip money. About the only person not giddy with delight at the prospect of a weekend off was the creepy looking man who had taken up the small corner table in Simone’s section. It was adjacent to the ladies’ restroom, and with the way he’d been leering at every woman who walked past, it seemed the table choice was strategic.

Simone raced toward me holding her empty tray against her almost like a shield. She placed it on the counter and, without asking, started helping me fill my tray. “Favor, my beautiful, perfect roommate.”

“Uh, I believe you already owe me.”

She leaned against the counter to face me. “Hear me out. See that quiet and odd-looking man with the gelled hair and eighties disco shirt sitting at the corner table?”

“You mean the one who licks his lips every time a woman walks out of the bathroom?”

“Yes.”

“Nope, I don’t see him.” I hopped up on my toes to reach the pile of napkins behind the counter.

“Pleeeze, Eli, you’re so much better at handling weirdos than me.”

“If that’s your attempt at flattery, Simone, then—” I looked over at the man. He had shifted forward to watch two women walk past in shorts. “Nope, I still don’t see him.”

“I’ll pay for all the groceries this week.”

Again, I glanced past her toward the corner table. “He seems to be keeping one hand under the table at all times.”

“Maybe he’s had a stroke.”

I rolled my eyes back to her. “Two weeks of groceries and the quarters for the laundry all month.”

“Deal. You’re a peach. And just to show you what a good sport I am, I’ll take that dark table at the back wall.”

I delivered the drinks on my tray and then with gritted teeth headed to the corner table. I dropped a napkin in front of him. The wavering lights from the sconces on the walls made the gel in his hair look like plastic.

He surveyed me from head to toe before dragging his hidden hand out from under the table. I had to push away visions of what he’d been doing with that hand as he fingered the napkin in front of him.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Simone floating through the bar without a care in the world. I’d been having a craving for steak and expensive gourmet ice cream, and I quickly decided, that since Simone was footing the grocery bill, this would be the perfect week to satisfy those cravings.

“What can I get you?”

His thickly gelled hair didn’t move as he looked up at me. It seemed he’d already had plenty to drink or smoke elsewhere, but with some effort, he managed to focus his unsteady gaze on me. Or more specifically, on my chest.

He squinted. “Eliot? What kind of name is Eliot?”

“Not sure. I didn’t actually pick it out. There’s a special two for one on dark ale. Can I interest you in that?”

“Well, blue eyes, I don’t like dark ale. A pitcher of the beer on tap. And why don’t you bring two glasses so you can sit down and share it with me.” His words were stretched and slightly slurred. He wasn’t more than thirty and beneath the gelled hair and gaudy shirt, he was a nice looking man. I was just about to start feeling sorry for him, thinking Simone and I had been too harsh in our judgment, when he leaned over and looked brazenly at my legs. “Well, sweetheart, how about that beer?”

“I’ll be right back with a pitcher . . . and
one
glass.”

Simone smiled sweetly at me as she headed my direction with a tray.

“I should have asked for a month of groceries,” I muttered from the side of my mouth as she shuffled past.

Chapter 21

Rafe

I stood in
the front room finishing a third beer as I stared down at the city lights. Somewhere out there, people were moving freely about and having a fun Friday night on the town. I wondered which of the blue neon lights were lighting up the Sparky’s sign.

I’d fought a war in triple digit temperatures against an enemy who was as hard to pinpoint as Waldo in one of those fucking books, but nothing had prepared me for this dating show. Having to face all the women, with their expectant, nervous smiles and then having to send off three of them, and watch the disappointment, humiliation and hurt spread across their pretty faces was nothing short of torture. Olivia, the lawyer, probably handled it best of all. In fact, the withering look she gave me assured me she wasn’t going to break down into tears any time soon. I preferred her harsh, incredulous glare to the pouty, vibrating bottom lip and sniffles of Tanya, the woman who I’d decided at the last minute to send home mostly because when I’d gone through the list left for me by the writer, I couldn’t even remember who she was. I was pretty sure we hadn’t exchanged more than two words, but somehow she managed to look the most heartbroken as she walked forward to give me a good-bye hug.

A knock on the front door startled me. I hadn’t heard the buzzing of the outside security cameras or the footsteps on the front porch. I hurried to the door, hoping that Eliot had gotten off early and had decided to come back.

Peyton obviously sensed my disappointment as I opened the door, but she ignored my frown and brushed past me and into the house without waiting for an invite.

I closed the door and faced her. “Do you have some magical switch for the security cameras?”

She stuck her hands in her back pockets and pushed her cleavage forward. “No magical switch. Just Leo. He’s a friend of mine. I asked him to turn them off so I could walk over here unnoticed.”

“Leo, yeah, he’s a cool guy.” I walked toward the kitchen. “I was just about to open another beer. Would you like one?”

“I would.”

I hadn’t heard her light footsteps behind me just as I hadn’t heard them on the porch. I spun around with a beer in each hand and found her standing close enough to count the freckles on her nose. “You move like a ninja.”

“It’s a gift. Plus I took a lot of ballet classes when I was a kid.” She plucked the can from my hand. 

“So what led you from ballerina to undercover actress on a reality show?”

“Money. I like it. Undercover actress pays more.” She shrugged. “I wasn’t good enough to make money on my toes.” Peyton took a drink of beer and made a show of licking her lips afterwards. It was obvious she wasn’t there for a casual visit.

I looked up at the house camera. It wasn’t blinking. Leo, it seemed, had covered all the bases.

“What can I do for you, Peyton?”

Her mouth tilted in a grin as she put the beer down on the counter and sashayed closer. “I think you know. That’s why I had Leo turn off the cameras.”

Something about Peyton had rubbed me wrong right from the start, and she had still not grown on me, even now as she made sure to lean hard against my cock. I was still not feeling it. My self-preservation instincts told me she was one to avoid and not just because she was on Doug’s payroll.

She reached up and trailed her fingers along the stubble on my jaw. “I asked Leo to help because you seem to be a little camera shy. I wanted you to feel completely at ease.”

She pressed harder against me. “I also wanted to assure you that even though I’m being paid on the side by the director, all is fair in love and war, if you know what I mean?”

“Actually, I don’t.” I stepped back and took another drink of beer.

Her grin straightened into a tight line for a second and then, actress that she was, she forced a smile again. “Just because Doug is paying me to keep some drama going and to make sure the silly women in that house don’t hurt each other, I’m still one of the contestants. I want to make sure you consider me as available and part of the competition.”

I nodded and decided to down the rest of my beer before responding. It had been a long day and sending three women home had grated on my conscience. But Peyton wasn’t like the other women. “Only one problem with that, Peyton.”

She blinked up at me in anticipation.

“If you weren’t on Doug’s payroll, I would have already sent you on your way.”

Her face tightened and the grim line of her mouth returned as her entire body tensed with rage. “Fine. No big deal. I get the money no matter what happens.”

“Great. I’m happy for you.” I waved toward the door.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yep, I guess so. Good night, Peyton.” She stormed out and snapped the door shut behind her.

I walked to the window and watched as she marched back across the lawn. My eyes drifted up to the cameras, the eyes that kept watch over me in my stone tower. Being stuck in the house was bullshit. I would never say anything or give away any inner thoughts or deep secrets about what was happening with the show because I didn’t really give a damn.

“Yep, this is bullshit,” I said to the empty room before walking to the bedroom to get my shoes and wallet.

Chapter 22

Eliot

Simone came back
to the bar counter looking even more sheepish than she had when she asked me to wait on the creep at the corner table. And he’d turned out to be even worse than he looked. I’d been working hard to ignore his lascivious gaze and comments all evening. I’d practically just thrown the last pitcher of beer in his lap in my haste to avoid standing near him too long. Something told me that after two hours of waiting on him, the only tip I was going to get was his phone number scribbled on a napkin.

“What now?” I asked, before Simone could jump into her plea.

“This time it’s not my fault. I was perfectly willing to serve the guy at the dark table in back, but he insisted he wanted you as his server.”

“That’s weird.” I glanced through the crowd to the dimly lit table in back. A tall figure wearing the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head and dark sunglasses was sitting hunched at the table as if he was trying to look small and invisible. “Oh my god, another weirdo. This isn’t fair, Simone. How do you know he wants me? Did he ask for me by name? I don’t even know him.”

“He said, and I quote, I want the server who keeps swiping at the stray curl on her forehead.” She waved her hand. “Or something like that.”

I raised a brow at her. “When you get a chance you might want to look up the meaning of the phrase, ‘I quote’. Fine. I’ll serve him, but you can expect our grocery cart to be filled with the finest and most exclusive delicacies the shelves of our supermarket have to offer. It’s been years since I’ve had filet mignon. Oh, and champagne, imported chocolate and strawberries sound like a good dessert to follow it.”

“Whatever. But this one’s not my fault.”

The crowd had thinned some as we headed toward closing. At least there was only an hour left of serving unsavory characters. And tomorrow, I had the day off. If I didn’t have hours of studying to go along with my Saturday, I would almost be excited about it.

The size, the hood and the dark glasses made this customer even scarier than the nincompoop at the corner table. Hair gel called out to me as I walked past his table to the back. “Hey, honey bunch, my pitcher is dry. Get that pretty ass over here with a new one.”

I waved at him to let him know I’d be right there. For the first time in my serving career, I seriously considered spitting in my customer’s drink.

Hair gel seemed to have caught the attention of my second weirdo customer with his pretty ass comment. Mr. Hood, a menacing giant, sat up straight to see past the wood post that stood in the line of vision between the two tables.

When would this night end? Or maybe I should have been asking
how
would this night end.

Even though Mr. Hood had on dark sunglasses and his face sat in the shadows of his jacket, I sensed that he was watching me as I walked toward the table. In the short journey across the gritty floor, I tried to recall where I’d seen the man before, but nothing came to mind. How the heck did he know about my curl? Then I reminded myself that I was constantly touching Jack the curl. It would be easy for anyone to notice. He obviously didn’t know me at all. He just noticed my quirky habit. Curse you, Jack.

Feeling a little more confident that I could blame the strange night completely on my curl and not my bad luck, I reached the table and dropped a napkin in front of him. “What can I get you?”

“A beer, and, eventually, a ride back to my tower.”

I froze and quickly replayed the voice in my head, trying to find a logical explanation for why I was hearing it. The burst of energy shooting through my veins was a mixture of disbelief coupled with adrenaline. I glanced quickly around wondering if anyone else from the studio had followed or come with him.

As he lifted his chin, it gave me a clearer view of his face. There was no mistaking the jaw and the straight nose. I don’t know how I could have missed the impossibly broad shoulders. Completely perplexed and stunned, I immediately set about breaking Ursula’s number one rule: never sit down with a customer.

Rafe scooted over as I slid onto the bench next to him. “Tell me I’m imagining this and you aren’t sitting here next to me. And tell me my boss doesn’t see me sitting here next to my imaginary customer because I will be in a shit load of trouble.”

“O.K. I’m imaginary. And if I recall, Ursula is a small, fast moving older lady with fiery red hair. You’re in luck. I don’t see her.”

I hopped back out of the booth before she came out of her office.

Rafe pushed his hood back some but not off his head. He pointed inside of it. “Thought the hair might be a dead giveaway.” He lifted his sunglasses an inch as he peered up at me from beneath the dark lenses. “How do you like my disguise? I’m pretending that I’m one of those big shot Hollywood superstars who doesn’t want to be seen. Although, I’ll bet I could walk through here with a sign that said bachelor and no one would notice or recognize me.”

“Think again, my oversized Adonis. The other servers have been talking about you all week. And after tomorrow’s airing of the two hour show, when you save a girl on a runaway horse and then play strip Marco Polo with eight women in a lake, there will be no living with any of my coworkers. You won’t be able to stand inside that bachelor house and sneeze without a million women answering back Gesundheit.”

“Great. Another thing I never signed on for.” He picked up the napkin and spun it around in his fingers. “A beer would be nice. Guess you’re here until closing?”

“Yep. I’m going to get the beer and sneak a shot of tequila for my nerves. Then you can explain to me how I am standing in Sparky’s and talking to the man who is supposed to be sequestered up in the hills above Hollywood in a house purchased especially for its secure location and camera system.”

He pointed at me. “Did you notice that when you’re nervous or upset you get this little kink or dimple in your cheek and your sentences get really long?”

“Maybe two shots of tequila.” I spun around and made a beeline for the bar counter. Somewhere in the midst of the conversations, music and pulse pounding in my ears, I heard hair gel call me honey bunch and ask for his beer. I didn’t bother to look his direction. It only encouraged leering and lip licking. 

I ducked behind the counter and stared down at my shaky hands. I had no real explanation as to why they were trembling, but I decided to blame it on the shock. I would have been less stunned if Edgar Allen Poe’s ghost had floated in and sat at the back table than having Rafe show up.

I took a quick look around and tossed back that much needed shot of tequila. I winced as it burned on the way down like flaming gasoline. My gaze rounded to the back of the room. Rafe was still cloistered under hood and sunglasses, but I could tell he was watching me. I decided to forgo the second shot of tequila. I needed my head and wits about me. Technically, I was in charge of the man. Even though I was not working for the studio at the moment and even though this went way beyond my job description, I had to make sure he got back to the house unseen. And soon. 

I filled a mug with beer and grabbed a second mug for hair gel.

Simone snuck up behind me as I filled the glasses. “Hey.”

Cold beer sloshed over my hand. “Shit, Simone, why are you creeping up like that? Tonight isn’t a night for creeping up.”

“I had to find out about the mysterious man in sunglasses. Is he a friend of yours?”

I shook my head. “Nope. Just a guy wanting a beer.” I shot a glance at the clock on the wall. “Damn, this last hour is crawling. Closing can’t come soon enough.”

“Yeah, for you,” she huffed. “You’re not on clean up tonight. I absolutely hate wiping down tables.” She held up her hand with five perfectly painted fingernails. “And I just got a manicure.” A spark twinkled in her eye, and I recognized the look she was giving me. “Hey, Eli, since I already owe you anyhow—”

“Forget it. There’s nothing you can say or offer in trade. I’m not taking your clean up duty tonight.”

Simone sighed dejectedly. “Figured it was worth a try.”

I picked up the beers and headed to the corner table. Hair gel patted the seat next to him. “Sit that fine ass right here.”

“I can’t. It’s against the rules.”

“Bullshit. I just saw you sit at the table in the back.” He reached for my wrist, but his movements had been slowed by the three pitchers of beer. I easily avoided his grasp.

“Do you have a ride home or should we get you one? The owner has one of those safe ride services on speed dial for just such an occasion.”

“Nope, honey bunch. Why don’t you give me a ride and then we could get to know each other.”

“No, I’ll just deliver this beer to the other table and then let the owner know she needs to make the call.” I walked away. He let loose with, considering his drunken state, an impressive whistle.

The shrieking whistle had snapped Rafe’s attention to the corner table again. I placed the beer in front of him.

“Someone should send that jerk on his way,” Rafe growled.

I glanced back at hair gel. “He’s a lonely drunk guy. A jerky one, for sure, but it’s hard not to feel a little sorry for someone who spends Friday night getting drunk completely alone in the middle of a crowded bar.”

My phone rang in my pocket. “Who could that be?” I pulled it out. “Oh shit.” I sat on the edge of the bench. “Mom? What’s wrong? Is Georgie all right?”

“Eliot, it’s so noisy. Are you still at work?”

“Yes, we close in a half hour. What’s wrong?” My heart was sputtering in my chest. “Mom?”

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you too well. Georgie has a headache and we’re out of aspirin. I’m worried it will grow into one of those terrible migraines if she doesn’t take something.”

“Absolutely. She needs the aspirin. That pharmacy by your house is twenty-four hours.”

“My car has a flat tire.”

“Crap.” I looked again at the clock. “I’ll bring you the aspirin just as soon as I’m off.” Somehow the rush of angst that had come with a late night call from home had made me nearly forget the problem I had sitting next to me. The very large problem. I needed to make sure he got back to the house. “See you in about an hour. Put a cool cloth on Georgie’s head and tell her to keep the room dark and quiet. I’ve got to finish up here. Bye.”

“Everything all right?” In one short week, Rafe’s deep voice had grown familiar to me and I found it soothing. I had no idea why, but when he spoke it seemed like everything in my life was a little less frantic and crummy.

“My sister needs aspirin.” Realizing how silly that sounded as a reason for a middle of the night call, I decided to add to it. “She suffers from debilitating migraines and they are out of aspirin. My mom’s car has a flat tire.” I patted my apron pocket. “After tonight, I should have enough to buy her new tires.” It suddenly occurred to me that my mom’s house and the bachelor house were in opposite directions. I was finally off work after a long week and it seemed I was going to be traveling from one side of the city to the other to do errands.

“Seems like my surprise visit was a good thing. You can’t go running around at two in the morning by yourself.”

I looked over my shoulder at him. “I do quite well on my own, thank you. And this surprise visit is not a good thing. What if someone notices you missing?” I turned to face him. “How the heck did you get out of there unseen anyhow?”

“Now what kind of army ranger would I be if I couldn’t sneak past a two-bit security system?”

“But you had no car.”

He laughed. “You spoiled Los Angeles people. It is possible to travel without a personal car. It’s a little invention known to civilization as a bus.”

“You walked four miles through the hills and another three down to the road and nearest bus stop and then traveled in that same stinky, shambling public bus all the way to Sparky’s for a beer at closing?”

“Seems that way. Besides, it wasn’t just for a beer. I knew for a fact that my favorite server would be here wearing her cute Sparky’s uniform.” He lifted his glasses again and scrutinized my face. “But it seems my visit wasn’t a good thing. I was kind of hoping you would be happy to see me. Guess I misjudged my likability factor.”

I stood up from the bench. “No there’s plenty of likability, and it’s always nice to see you. It’s just you aren’t supposed to be off the grounds. There’s that whole silly legal contract and the studio’s rabid team of lawyers. I sometimes think they pick rich bachelors not because they’re more interesting to the women but because they’re easier to sue if something goes wrong. And if Doug found out you were here . . . and with me—”

“He won’t, and if he does, I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.” He lifted the glasses away from his eyes and looked at me in a way that unexpectedly made my throat tighten. “I’d never let anything happen to you, Eliot,” he repeated quietly, almost as if he had only meant to think it. But I couldn’t think of one other person in my life, other than my dad, who had made me that promise, and he’d said it in a way that sounded so profoundly genuine, it nearly brought me to tears.

“I’ll get you another beer.” I walked away quickly, needing a few seconds to regain the composure I’d lost with his last words. Rafe was only a very temporary person in my life and that notion was hard to face. It was strange, but the idea of him walking completely out of my life once the show was over seemed impossible. Jackson had been teasing me about my supposed crush on the bachelor, and I had steadily denied it both to him and to myself. Had he been right all along? Curse you, Jackson.

I filled another mug with beer and took surreptitious glances in the direction of the back table. Holy hell was he a sight to see. Even under dim lights and a pathetic disguise attempt, he was breathtaking. I could easily have allowed myself to read more into Rafe’s unexpected visit, nice things, unimaginable things like that he’d actually made the complex trip because he missed seeing me tonight. But that idea was so laughable, I decided to enjoy it for a second and then push it from my mind forever. Rafe was bored, and something told me, the lure of doing something difficult and completely against the rules was what had drawn him out of the house and down the mountain.

My composure regained and flighty, dreamy thoughts out of my head, I carried the second beer to his table. I placed it down in front of him.

“Look, El, you don’t have to worry about giving me a ride back. It’s late. Since it’s way past midnight and the hour when the true weirdos come out, I’ll just ride along with you to the pharmacy and your mom’s house. Then you can drop me at the nearest bus stop.”