Once You’re Mine: Chapter 9

Even though it’s been several hours, I’m still not able to put my conversation with Bennett behind me. However, as I stare at the door leading into the T&A, my trepidation rises, giving me something to think about other than the infuriating lawyer.

Like the fact that I’m about to wear an outfit so skimpy I might as well be naked.

But, I’d rather work in this seedy bar than accept Bennett’s help.

With that resolve firmly planted in my brain, I pull on the door handle and step inside. Just like it did the first time I walked in here, the place and its customers have my skin prickling with unease, and I nearly do an about-face. The music pounds through the speakers, and the numerous male voices make up the rest of the place’s soundtrack along with the clinking of glass behind the bar. The lighting is dim, dark enough to hide the grime.

And hopefully, my disgust.

Gripping the strap of my backpack, I walk straight up to the bar and lean on the counter. The bartender does a double-take when he sees me, but then his mouth spreads into a licentious grin.

“What can I do for you, sugar?”

“I spoke to Jim, last night and he offered me a job. I’m here to start my training as a waitress.”

The man runs his gaze over me, his brow furrowing. “You’re not wearing the proper clothing.” When I tap my backpack, he nods. “Go get dressed, and we’ll get you set up. The bathrooms are right back there.”

I follow the direction he indicates, ignoring the stares of everyone around me. In the time it takes for me to change my clothing, I give myself a pep talk, recalling all of the reasons that led me to this. By the end, I don’t feel any better about my choice, but I’m ready to take on the challenge. The only thought that comforts me is that this is temporary. Once I have enough money to pay Calvin to resume his investigation, I’m quitting this job.

Looking in the mirror, I don’t recognize myself. The short black skirt ends mid-thigh, showing off my long, toned legs, courtesy of the many hours spent standing at the Sugar Cube. My top is a black t-shirt that ends at my navel, with a neckline that does more than hint at my cleavage. It puts it on full display. The mounds of my breasts sit snugly in the tight shirt, and the seam of my pink bra peeks out on occasion, depending on how I’m standing. In place of my tennis shoes are a pair of heels that my fiancé bought me, black with blood-red soles. They mock me now, as though he knew I’d end up needing them someday. He broke off our engagement when my father’s reputation was in ruins.

If Adam had truly loved me, I’d be his wife, and there wouldn’t be a need for these shoes.

After staring at my reflection until it sinks in that I’m actually doing this, I begin to unbraid my hair. The whole point of this outfit is to be sexually attractive to the customers in order to keep them happy, and in return, I would earn large tips. I’m not the most gorgeous woman to walk the earth, but I know I’m pretty. Pretty enough to forgo any makeup other than mascara and a bit of lip gloss.

No one will be looking at my face anyway.

I cringe at the thought. With my hair cascading down my back and my heels clicking on the tile flooring, I make my way back to the bar. Loud whistles and catcalls wash over me, and I steel myself against wanting to run. This is the price I agreed to pay when I stepped foot in here, and I can’t back out now.

The bartender looks at me with an appreciative gleam in his eyes. “What’s your name, sugar?”

“Calista.”

“I’m Mack, the assistant manager. You spoke with the manager yesterday, so there’s no need for anything else right now. As long as you’re not a complete bust and make it through the night, you’ll keep the job.”

“Make it through the night?” I repeat, my voice nearly a squeak.

“We both know your type doesn’t belong here. You’re too sweet, sugar.”

He’s right, but I’ve come too far. Besides, my pride won’t let me crawl back to Bennett for help.

“Too much sugar will make you sick,” I say.

Mack chuckles and sets down a glass full of beer next to several of them already sitting on a tray. “That’s true.”

I hold up my backpack. “Is there somewhere I can put this?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll hold it behind the bar until you’re done for the night.” After he takes my belongings, Mack points to the collection of beer. “Okay, for now, I’ll get these orders out, and you’ll deliver them to the customers. Once you get the table numbers memorized, things will get easier. Later on, I’ll grab one of the other girls, and you’ll shadow her. Cool?”

“Sounds good.”

“Great. Take this to table thirteen.” He pushes the tray toward me. “It’s the one in the very corner of the room.”

I nod, no longer having the ability to speak evenly. Instead, I concentrate on lifting the tray while balancing the weight of the drinks to ensure I don’t dump the contents all over myself. It’s more difficult than I imagined but only because I’m in heels. I catch sight of a pretty blonde bustling about in a pair of heels that are twice as long as mine, and I mentally applaud her coordination.

Making my way slowly but surely to the designated table, I gain a tiny bit of confidence with every step. I stop once I’m standing beside a customer who nearly reaches me in height even though he’s seated. He rakes his gaze over my body, making me inwardly grimace. I soothe myself by thinking that I’ll get used to this in time.

The lie doesn’t help.

“Hey there, pretty lady,” he says, his voice carrying hints of a southern accent. “What’cha got for me?”

I force a smile, one that sits awkwardly on my mouth, and place the glasses on the table. Every set of eyes in the group trace the curves of my breasts every time I bend down, and I clench my teeth. “Do you guys need anything else?” I ask when I’m finished.

“Not unless you’re interested in earning an extra-large tip.”

The sexual innuendo isn’t lost on me. I will myself not to blush, but it’s futile. The man’s friends laugh, only adding to my embarrassment. One of them slaps his shoulder while grinning. “Come on, Grady, can’t you tell the girl is scared to death?”

Grady shrugs his massive shoulders, making his leather jacket groan softly. “Being scared isn’t exactly a no.”

I shake my head, hopefully not too emphatically that he’s insulted and I get in trouble for being rude to a customer. The long tendrils of my hair glide back and forth across my back with my movements, and his gaze snaps to them.

“Have a good night,” I say quickly. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Just as I’m about to turn around, Grady reaches out to grab a lock of my hair. I go still, like a wild animal caught in a trap. My heart thrums crazily in my chest and my breathing thins, panic rising with every second.

Unaware, or uncaring of my discomfort, he rubs the strands between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s softer than I expected.”

“Please let g—”

My plea is caught in my throat as a dark figure appears at Grady’s side, instantly commanding my attention. Bennett resembles a wraith, clothed in black and encased in shadow. Faster than I can process, he snatches Grady’s thumb and wrenches it back. The man cries out in both alarm and pain, but that doesn’t deter Bennett.

If anything, he pulls back all the more.

With my hair free, I step away at the same moment the men at the table begin to rise.

“Stay seated,” Bennett says, his voice danger in auditory form. “This doesn’t involve you. Only this man since he foolishly touched what doesn’t belong to him.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Grady shouts.

Bennett jerks his chin in my direction. His eyes are bright in the dim lighting, the fierce emotions within shining like diamonds. “She’s mine.”