Manhattan Muse: A Contemporary Romance
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Authors: Vivian Wilde
MANHATTAN MUSE
By
Vivian Wilde
Copyright 2014 Vivian Wilde
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I remember the day I met him as clear as day.
It was the same day I was diagnosed with breast cancer.
I was behind the bar filling five shot glasses with an alcohol proof that could choke a horse. I had come to terms with my new living conditions, but I worked hard every day to not let my emotions affect my tip money.
Even though my hands were twirling bottles, shaking cocktails, and adding an extra punch to my regular customers’ drinks, my brain was working overtime to try and squelch any negativity that sprouted in its living quarters.
As he and his five friends bellied up to the bar on the remaining free stools, I felt a lump form in my throat.
“What will it be, boys?” I said as I wiped down the counter in front of them and tossed each of them a coaster. They landed two inches in front of their arms which were using the counter as a crutch.
“Five of your darkest lagers, please, ma’am,” he said, looking around at his friends who nodded in agreement. He reached around into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “
Keep the change.”
I saw the four hundreds splayed on the counter and bucked my head back.
“See this?” I said, pointing to my nametag. “The strippers over there don’t get them.”
I could see Spencer, my boss, stand up straight as he watched me hand the money back from across the room.
“Ah,” he said, uncomfortably. He scratched the back of his head in embarrassment while his friends began to fidget. “I didn’t mean to offend you-”
“I know you didn’t.
I just thought I’d point out the detail.”
One of his friends began to shake his head as he let a laugh escape his lips.
“I’m a professional dancer,” I said, defending myself. “I don’t take my clothes off.”
I slid the folded stack of bills towards him on the counter before turning on my heel to pour the beers. With my back turned, I took five chilled glasses from the fridge and proceeded to fill them with the local seasonal brew.
My hand shook as the awkward silence slipped past the barrier of my cold shoulder. If it wasn’t for Spencer coming over, I don’t think I would have had the courage to turn back around.
“Molly,” Spencer said, turning down his ear piece as he set his clipboard on the bar. “Are you giving customers your stiff upper lip again? I told you, the only things that need to be stiff are the drinks.”
“That’s a false statement, if I ever did hear one,” I said, looking at the men crowded around Sugar’s performance. She was lean, fit, and a bit too aggressive, but that’s what made her a favorite.
Spencer let his lips stretch into a smile before getting back to the problem at hand.
“Honey, while I enjoy how blunt you are, sometimes it comes off as rude to the customers,” Spencer said.
“No,” my crush said. “That’s not how it came off at all-”
“Mr. Evans,” Spencer said, extending his hand towards my crush. My heart fluttered at the sound of his name, which made it even harder to stand my ground. “Please, you should always feel welcome when you are here. I believe you gave Molly a gift because you enjoyed her performance, not because
you pity her
.”
Mr. Evans heard Spencer’s tone and looked at me confused. I melted into his gaze for a split second before pulling myself back up to the surface.
“I-” I started but I couldn’t find the words.
“No more excuses,” Spencer said. “Serve them their drinks and then come with me. I will have someone fill in for you while I speak with you privately.”
The glasses clanked against each other all the way to Mr. Evans’ coasters just as my teeth chattered outside. The wind was crippling tonight, and so was the suspense of what Spencer was going to say.
“Spence, listen, please,” I said, but my lips were quickly pursed by the pinch of his two fingers.
“No one is pitying you,” Spencer said, his eyes showing the sorrow he was trying so hard to conceal. “Not even me. I haven’t told a single soul since you confided in me. I want to help you the best I can, but you are making it hard when you give back money to potential repeat customers because of your morals. I don’t employ people with morals. You were the exception. Don’t let me down when we have come so far.”
He had a point. I had worked with him for two years in between starting off my dancing career. I had increased drink sales and turnout tenfold since the day I started. I was a commodity in this club rather than another body.
“I understand,” I said, tearing up. I fanned my eyelids as they began to spill tears. A smile presented itself on my lips out of embarrassment right about the time Spencer’s arms wrapped around my frame to caress my back. After five minutes of rocking, I broke away from his embrace. “I got this.”
After our infamous fist bump and finger explosion, I walked gingerly back into the club and behind the bar. The six seats that were previously occupied by the boys were now home to new customers who, by the looks of their costumes, were kicking off their Bachelor party.
To my disbelief, the pile of twenties still laid untouched on the counter. I stopped in my tracks to scan for Mr. Evans, and my heart skipped a beat as his eyes met mine from the billiards section.
Before moving in to take his shot, he returned my gaze while chalking his stick. I couldn’t stop my eyes from trailing down his muscular backside as he bent down and jutted his stick towards the cue ball, sacking two striped balls into the left corner pocket.
His movements were fluid, flowing like calm water in a river bend. Each muscle that tensed for that one simple motion produced an itching desire that I couldn’t scratch inside of me. While it was partially sexual, most of my yearning longed for those enhanced biceps to wrap around me. I was sure they would squelch the pain and repel any bad news that would be sent my way in the coming months.
However, while I may long for that emotional connection, it was the last thing that I needed to add to my plate right now. With that realization, I turned around and went back to tending to the bar.
“Good evening, kind sir,” I said, leaning over on the bar towards the groom-to-be. “Since you are being taken off of the market tomorrow, what can I pleasure you with this evening?”
All thirty-two of his perfect teeth gleamed as his mind played with the temptation embedded in my words. I watched his eyes trail down my V-neck before his lips caught up with the noises his mouth was trying to speak.
“I-I think a round of shots would s-suffice for now,” he stuttered. He was uncomfortable with the scene of the club and, judging at how off of her game Penny was, I could see why.
I reared back on my heel as a little extra attitude aided my hand to meet my hip.
“Perfect,” I said. “Seven shots it is.”
I lined up seven shot glasses on the edge of the bar before twirling the bottle of Jack in between my fingers. The amber liquid poured evenly as they looked at each other wondering who was going to get the extra shot.
I slid a glass towards each of them, keeping one for myself. Raising it in the air, I proposed a toast.
“To living in the moment,” I said, while smirking at the groom.
“To living in the moment,” the men cheered before throwing the glass’s contents back.
As I tossed the liquid into the back of my throat, I closed my eyes to savor the warm burning sensation as it trickled down my esophagus. With my head tilted back, I took a deep breathe to ignite the fiery trail of whiskey once more before it faded for good.
When I opened my eyes and leveled my head, I met his gaze shooting over the groom-to-be’s shoulder.
“And now,” the announcer boomed from the speakers as lights began to dance across every nook and cranny of the bar. I heard my favorite song start to pulse with the confining walls and a smile peeked out of the corner of my mouth. “We have a special guest.”
I looked towards the groom-to-be and, with a flirtatious slap, I spoke my final words before getting on the stage.
“You’re in luck,” I said with a wink. “I’m actually really good.”
My hands looped through the air as I pirouetted my way to the stage. Even though my routine wasn’t what most came here to see, no one ever booed. Mr. Evans even stared in awe as I took a bow.
The cool breeze crept up my uniform that night as I walked to my car, and I wouldn’t have stood any longer in its reach if it wasn’t for an elongated shadow dancing on the pavement near mine.
I noticed it belonged to
Mr. Evans as I turned around. Setting my purse in the front passenger’s seat, I sighed.
“You just don’t give up, do you Mr. Evans-” I said.
“Please,” he said, holding up his hand. “Call me Nate.”
I hesitated as my lips tried to keep up with my brain.
“And no I don’t,” he continued. He pulled out the money I had purposefully left on the bar from his back pocket. “But if you aren’t going to accept my money for your exceptional service in there, then you should let me spend it to take you out.”
“I’m not what you think I am,” I said. I shook my head out of anger and discomfort.
“I know you’re not,” Nate said, drawing a few steps closer.
“I don’t date regulars,” I said, assuming this extracurricular was his hobby.
He let out a light laugh before looking away into the night. His silhouette danced across the pavement with each one of his fidgeting movements.
“You know, I never wanted to come t
onight,” Nate said. “I’m more of a beer and football kind of guy. That is when I’m not working.”
“And I’m more of a frolic and cook kind of girl when I’m not working,” I said, frankly.
“I’d like to know more about that,” Nate said softly. It was so sincere that I was afraid to ruin it with the sarcastic jab floating around in my head. “Because when I saw you move, I knew a deeper story was behind that amount of passion.”
I gulped as I realized what he was alluding to. He had found my weak spot, and he didn’t even know its full potential.
“Just one date,” Nate said. He walked over and took my hand. Placing the lump of cash in my palm, he enclosed my fingers under his and looked into my eyes. “I’ll let you pay.”
I looked down to my hand as he walked away.
“This feels thicker than it did the last time it was in my possession,” I said.
“That’s because I added my phone number,” he said, stopping in his tracks to turn around. With his hands in his pockets, he outlined his V-shaped pelvis that I yearned was just as toned as his visible frame.
“And an extra hundred for tonight.”
My eyes slit as my body walked fuming to where his stood.
“I only served you once tonight,” I said, handing the wad of bills back to him.
“Technically, I opened my tab under your name,”
Nate said. “And I ordered eight more rounds.”
His hands chaperoned mine to my chest, laying
it gently across my heart.
“I expect you to call within three days,”
Nate said looking, once again, deep into my eyes. “Or I will show up here every day until you do.”
I
sputtered syllables but none of them formed words. He walked away, fading into the darkness, leaving the night air to knock my knees.