Our Secret Summer(16)
Annika winces. “Yeah, you have to be careful. It’ll shrink.”
I’m well aware of that fact now, unfortunately.
“Since we’re off at midnight tonight, let’s do Chinese takeaway,” Simone suggests as we ascend the stairs to the main floor. “I’ve been craving it all day and there’s a place that stays open really late.”
“Sounds good. Mind if I invite Ethan?” Annika asks, raising her voice. The music is already blasting up here.
Simone and I share a knowing glance, and Annika sees it.
“We’re just friends! Swear it.
“Oh!” Annika suddenly grabs my arm. “I forgot to tell you! He’s here! Felix texted before we left the locker room.”
“Who?”
Her eyes go wide. “Cristiano! The boss!”
My heart leaps with excitement, then dread. Immediately I start to scan the crowded club, looking for anyone out of the ordinary. I check the bars and security points. No one is talking to Ramón, and I recognize all the bartenders at their stations. There’s a chance Cristiano is downstairs with Hugo, but I can’t go check now. I’ll have to scope things out when I go down for my break in a bit.
I realize it’s probably best for me to fly under the radar here considering the unconventional way Simone helped me get this job. Hugo might have vetted me, but Cristiano didn’t. What if when he meets me, he doesn’t deem me up to snuff? What if he takes one look at me and sends me packing?
I try not to worry over the possibility, which turns out to be relatively easy because of how busy I am during my shift. There are two other servers assigned to our section, and I try to keep out of their way. The crowd starts to fill in while the opener performs onstage, but I have no problem staying on top of things. I might have managed just fine the whole night except that a group of women who seemed tame enough when they first sat down turns out to be moms on a girls’ trip, free from the burden of their husbands and young children and ready to live it up like they’re twenty-one again. I’ve never seen humans inhale espresso martinis at their rate. It’s almost terrifying. They were dancing on their table and trying to pull me up to join them before I promised shots on the house if only they’d please let me go.
“Those moms are wild!” I tell Annika when she joins me by the computer. “I’ll be picking pink boa feathers out of my hair for days. Switch with me, please. I’m begging you!”
She’s unbothered. “I can’t. That table of guys love me, and I know they’re going to be big tippers. Just hang in there! I’m sure it’ll be fine!”
It’s not. When I get back, the moms are taking body shots off each other and trying to get me in on the next round. I’ve turned into their group’s resident babysitter. When they need to go to the bathroom, I have them line up in an orderly fashion and instruct them to follow me. “Do not wander! And keep your hands by your sides!”
When we get back to the table, I offer to put in a round of tapas to try to soak up some of their martinis, and they all happily agree.
“And more champagne!” they call out after me.
“YES!”
Well, at least I tried.
Annika taps me on my way back to the bar, pausing as she rushes past with a tray filled with colorful cocktails.
“Look up.”
Up?
I glance toward the midnight sky, and she laughs and shakes her head, shouting from behind me. “There!”
She points toward the balcony near the stage. I haven’t been up there yet because I have no business serving VIPs. My computer skills are improving every shift, and I nearly have the drink menu memorized forward and backward, but I operate at a snail’s pace compared to Simone and Annika. They can take orders in the blink of an eye and do it with a flirtatious smile. Meanwhile, I’m being outmatched by a group of Midwestern moms.
It doesn’t take me long to see what—or rather who—Annika’s referring to. I’m surprised to see the handsome devil from last week leaning over the railing that looks out over the club.
Even from this distance, he’s intimidating, and he’s just as good-looking as I remember—more so, actually. He’s wearing a white shirt that’s unbuttoned just enough to reveal a hint of his tan chest. It also shows off his sculpted arms. I’ve never been into tattooed guys before now, but I love how they look on him. I like that they’re scattered, not full sleeves, not even close. There are only a few on each arm, a tapestry of his soul right there for anyone to see. Or… who knows. Maybe it’s not that deep. Maybe they’re women’s names, all his past conquests. Maybe they’re his favorite restaurants, his grocery list.
It could be that his tattoos are appealing because they contrast so nicely with the rest of him. His ink-black hair is neatly styled. His face is so meticulously chiseled. He’s scanning the floor, but his gaze isn’t intense like Ramón’s; he’s not looking for danger. It’s almost like he’s admiring the crowd, enjoying the view.
That makes two of us, I think, biting down on my mischievous smile.
I’m musing over this when his gaze shifts and our eyes meet and lock. His dark, calculating gaze takes ahold of me with all the intensity of a bolt of lightning striking me down from above. Instantly my cheeks flood with color, but I don’t look away. Anticipation tightens my stomach and then spreads like wildfire through me.