He raised his glass to me as if in salute, then sauntered back to his table.
Shaking, I waited for Mac to make the last two drinks while I stared at the bar top and tried to calm my breath, my heartbeat, and literally every cell in my body that was screaming at me torun.
But that I couldn’t do.
Because Shawn had always been a predator.
Which meant if I ran, he was guaranteed to chase.
Faking a relationship was never going to work—if anything, I should have known it would make him pick up the scent that much more.
Eventually, my breath calmed to the point that I could gather the drinks. I turned to bring them back to the tables but found someone else had joined the men at table five. And to my horror, it was yet another face I would have preferred to never see again.
Carrick Hunt’s dark brown eyes darted between Shawn and me, and I knew he’d seen our entire interaction at the bar. The difference between them was stark. Both were predators, but while Shawn was about as hapless as a puppy at this table full of full-grown wolves, Carrick had the confidence of a pack leader.
Or maybe one that was even more dangerous and unpredictable. A lone wolf.
I took a deep breath and plastered on a smile. Took one step forward and then immediately set my tray back on the bar and made for the exit.
“Hey,” Kyle called out just before I reached the coat room. “Where do you think you’re going?”
I turned. “Kyle, I’m so sorry, but there’s, um, been a family emergency. I have to go.”
“Lemme guess, your grandma’s in the hospital,” Kyle jeered. “Get back to work.”
“Kyle,please. I really can’t go back in there. My table is?—”
“Your table is full of some of the biggest Gs in the city,” Kyle cut in through his teeth as he grabbed my arm. “I went out on a limb to hire you here tonight, so you can’t just run out and leave me hanging, kiddo. You promised me hours.”
I clutched my shoulders. This wasn’t performance. It was torture.
“I’m sorry,” I tried again. “I’ll come back to Diamonds if you need. Tonight, I just…I don’t think I can do this.”
“And I don’t think I give a shit. Get your ass back in there and get to work. Now.”
I knew that tone. I’d heard it enough in the voices of hardscrabble men in Belmont. In bouncers and doormen, and even policemen, from time to time.
It was the one that said “don’t even try it” to kids like me who wanted to break the rules.
I didn’t want to try. I didn’t want any of this.
So I lifted the tray and followed my ex-boyfriend back to the table and delivered the drinks.
It was just another part. Just another role, I told myself.
And in a few hours, this show would be over.
TWENTY-SIX
BEST SUBWAY LINES
#4 F train—cutest construction workers
Iused to think nothing would ever be as bad as forgetting the choreo to my very first lead role in a play, versus a dance-only production.
At fourteen, I had the part of Lola in my high school’s version ofDamn Yankees. I was a reasonably good singer, but it was the dancing that got me the part. Which was why when, in my stress over learning my lines and remembering the lyrics, I completely forgot the steps to the first number, “A Little Brains, A Little Talent.” I froze right there on stage, then forgot the lyrics too, and then my lines until Louis Martinez, the kid who played Applegate (e.g., “the Serpent”), whispered the next one to me. I was barely able to mumble through the number while I shimmied around the stage.
I thought that nothing that bad would ever happen again.
