I hate reverse cowgirl.
With each breakup, I became more bitter. Each time he cheated on me, my resolve strengthened. After nursing a killer hangover yesterday, I came to the conclusion that this time Chase and I were done. For good. I’m not wasting the rest of my twenties on him.
“Alright, ladies, let’s get you all lined up and I’ll go over the rules for tonight.” Deanna’s aunt Lia strides through the door in a pair of silver Iriza Louboutin heels and a striking all-white pantsuit that is stark against her dark skin. Dee tugs on my hand, and we fall in line with the other women working tonight. “The VSA is a platinum event.” She props a hand on her hip. “We have five champagne carts posted across the floor; you should already know if you are stationed there. Everyone else, you will begin making the rounds with the champagne, and you can restock at the carts. Pay attention to the tables with white tablecloths, those are streamers and VIP guests. If they want a drink, you get them that drink. No matter their questions, the answers are always yes. Tables without white tablecloths do not get table service. I don’t care if they want water, they can get up and get it themselves; you are not being paid to cater to them.” She claps her hands. “You head out in five. Grab a gold tray by the door, make sure your bags are stocked, and smile.”
***
It’s been an hour and my smile already aches.
“Miss.” I see a hand snap out of the corner of my eye and twist to walk over to a woman in a tight orange dress that is most definitely not her color. Before I can open my mouth, she plucks two flutes off my tray and walks away. Lovely.
Sighing, I turn back around and scan the room for any holes.
My eyes lock on a white-clothed table that is empty save for three men. I pause for a few seconds, observing the way everyone is trying–and failing–to sneak glances. All three men are in masks. They’re those LED purge-looking masks, with X’s for eyes and stitched mouths. As far as masks go, they’re pretty hot. I know faceless streamers have been a thing for years, but I didn’t realize they actually attended events.
How do they plan on eating or drinking anything?
As if feeling my stare, the guy in the red mask turns to look at me. Well, I can’t exactly see where he is staring, but I am eighty percent sure he is staring in my general direction. Give or take a few feet. I slap an easy smile on my face and stride over.
They are all in black suits, but the guy in the blue mask has a bright blue shirt to match. Blue mask has platinum hair, almost white, and up close I can see two small cartilage hoops in his left ear that he is playing with. The guy in the green mask is absolutely massive, his shoulders straining his suit jacket, and his black hair is tied in a bun at the nape of his neck. The guy in the red mask has brown hair that, even with the mask on, has that just-had-sex kind of wave to it. It matches the vibe of his half-unbuttoned black dress shirt and thick silver chain necklace. They are just three men, and yet it feels like the entire event orbits around them.
“Good evening, can I offer you any champagne?”
“To get through this night? You can offer me several,” a British accent filters out from Blue Mask. I smile, placing three flutes in front of him before turning my attention to the other two.
“Champagne, or can I get you something else?”
“Whiskey, neat,” Red Mask says before turning his attention away. Disappointment bubbles at his easy dismissal.
Green Mask leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Cosmo,” his deep voice rasps out. Before I can help it, my right eyebrow twitches up at his request, and his mask tilts in response. “Don’t judge, sweetheart, it’s not nice.”
“No, of course not.” My cheeks flame. I have to get out of here. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
I swivel on my heels, only to feel a hard body knock into me from behind. I hear the tray fall, along with the gut-wrenching sound of the two remaining champagne flutes smashing on the ground, followed by a loud gasp. But instead of landing in a wet pile of broken glass, a hand yanks me forward and I tumble into a warm body, my ass landing on their lap. The scent of leather, pine trees, and amber invades my senses, and before I can think twice, I lean farther forward to inhale the scent.
“Some people would say ‘thank you’ before nuzzling their savior’s neck,” the voice rumbles.
Snapping my eyes open, my chest flushes as I look up into the red glow of the LED-mask.
“Sorry, thank you.” I breathe out, mesmerized by light.
“Not a problem, little dove.” My left arm is still pressed against his pecs, and I can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath it. The commotion continues around me, but it fades to a buzz as my brain focuses on the feeling of his grip loosening and his hand slowly tracing its way up my arm. I shift on his lap, chasing his touch. His gloved hand comes to stop under my chin, tipping it slightly back. This close, I can see the faint traces of his eyes behind the red X’s. I know without a doubt that if I could see them clearly, I would be drowning in them.
He leans forward, the mask grazing my jaw.
“I suggest you stay still if you’re going to sit on my lap. I’d hate to ruin these pants.” I freeze and he lets out a soft chuckle. Goosebumps break out over my body as his hand glides back down my neck, the leather rough against my skin.
“Stevie, oh my god, are you okay?” Deanna pushes her way through the gathering crowd, breaking my trance.
I shoot up, a slight wobble in my heels and a dizziness in my head. What the hell was that? It was probably only a few seconds, but it felt like time had frozen the moment he touched me.
Deanna grips my arms. “Stevie, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I shake my head, trying to dissipate the internal haze, “yeah, I’m fine.”
She lets out a deep sigh, her hands coming down to hold mine as she starts to tug me away from the table. “Let’s get you some water.”
I flip my head back, looking into the three bright masks before settling on the red. I open my mouth to say…something, anything, but he beats me to it.
“I’ll be waiting for that drink.”
Heat rushes through me. I whip around, out of Deanna’s grasp, and speed walk my way through the crowd, my three-inch heels twisting between the clusters of bodies. The farther away I can get from him, the more likely I am to start thinking clearly again.
It’s not until I reach the small bar next to the stage that the knot in my chest starts to loosen. It’s less crowded here, cooler. The flush on my skin begins to fade, and my body calms into a somewhat normal state.
“Can I get you anything?”
I thread a small smile on my face for the bartender. “One cosmopolitan and a whiskey, neat.”
“Any whiskey preference?”
I only need to scan the liquor selection for a moment before homing in on the perfect choice.
“Macallan 12, please.”
He nods before turning to grab the signature bottle from the top shelf. The amber liquid glistens as the shining lights from the stage shoot through it, a veritable sea of caramel. I want to ask him to pour me one as well, but I’m pretty sure that would be frowned upon given the mess I’ve already made. Shit. This definitely falls into Lia’s category of “don’t fuck up.”