Being on them all day, my feet were killing me which I decided to take Bubba’s advice about and look on the bright side. Focusing on my feet, I could stop thinking about my whole body aching. Also, when I walked up to a patron, I found they were giving me a head-to-toe and an easy smile, even if I didn’t know them.
I couldn’t be sure as I hadn’t counted them but I thought my tips might have taken a turn for the better. Maybe not a massive one that would allow me to add a manicure to my schedule every week once I settled in, bought a house and furnished it but I could at least maybe buy groceries.
At that moment, however, I was wondering about wearing high-heeled sandals on the back of a bike.
Was that okay?
I was also wondering if I should put on lip gloss.
I was wondering this because it was passed seven and I was waiting for Tate to come and get me.
And I was wondering all of this while wondering about me wearing a little cream blouse, jeans that were not tight but a bit loose and a pair of sandals that cost over two hundred dollars. Neeta’s whole outfit probably cost half that and Tate had carried her into a hotel room, kissing her.
I was not Neeta by any stretch of the imagination. I was not the kind of woman who was bad news, who made a man change careers because of whatever, who met him at a hotel at night.
I was the kind of woman who wore cream blouses, not tank tops, and needed a ride home because her boss, who might be a jerk on occasion but he’d certainly demonstrated a fair degree of assuming responsibility, knew she was a woman alone with no one to look after her.
So he was looking after me. That was it.
Thus, I decided, no lip gloss.
But that didn’t stop me from being incredibly nervous but I was nervous in a belly-fluttering, excited way – like I’d just made it to the top of a roller coaster and was about to take the plunge.
This, I told myself, was not because Tate informed me the way he’d cure my insomnia was by f**king me until I couldn’t move – a comment, I decided, he made because he was upset about Tonia and was trying to put his mind to other things.
This, I told myself, was because I was going to ride on his bike.
The door opened and one of the female clientele walked in, dressed and made up a lot like Krystal. I hadn’t seen her before so I just smiled and moved to the door.
The minute I hit the bar, I saw Tate standing at the other end by Jim-Billy. That belly flutter escalated and I thought I might either pass out or vomit.
Then I was rocked back on a foot when a strong force hit me.
I looked down to see Wendy had her arms wrapped around me.
“Oh Lauren,” she whispered.
I put one arm around her and I slid my other hand along her short hair as I tipped my head so my mouth was at her ear.
“Baby,” I whispered.
“I didn’t like her but this sucks,” she whispered back, not letting go of me.
“I know.”
She released me, stepped back and looked up. “Feel like a bitch, laughed when she got fired.”
“Take your mind off that, Wendy,” I advised.
“Right, how?” she asked.
“I don’t know, honey, just… if your mind wanders there, visualize a stop sign and don’t go down that path. You didn’t know what would happen to her.”
Her eyes slid slightly to the side before coming back to me. “I bet Tate’s feelin’ like an ass**le.”
She would win that bet.
“He’ll be okay,” I assured her with more confidence than I actually felt.
“Yeah, he’s a tough guy. They shoulda fired her ages ago. Only could do it, really, if they had you… which they did so he did it. Still, shit timing.”
“Yes,” I agreed then my eyes moved to him to see he was openly watching Wendy and me. I looked back at Wendy. “I have to go, honey, he’s here now because he’s my ride.”
Wendy blinked what could only be called a Kapow! blink. Her eyes squeezed together tight and quick, taking her eyebrows with them, then opening wide.
“He’s your ride?”
“I walked in today and he doesn’t want me walking back by myself,” I explained.
“Jim-Billy, Dalton or Bubba could take you home. Hell, half the guys here would do it,” she replied.
“Um… well, tonight Tate’s doing it.”
She grinned. “He likes you.”
“He doesn’t like me.”
“He likes you,” she repeated.
“I’m a good waitress,” I stated.
She shook her head. “Un-unh, that isn’t why he likes you.” She leaned forward. “He likes you, likes you.”
“I’m not his type,” I replied and she burst out laughing so hard she had to lean forward and shove her hands between her knees.
“What’s so funny?” I asked when she straightened and swiped under her eye.
“Sistah, you need to hang around bikers more,” she told me.
“Sorry?”
“They like ass,” she stated and I stared at her. “And tits. Real bikers, born and bred, like their women to look like women. They go for curves, for hair, for attitude. You are the queen of all of that. That’s why all the guys in here can’t tear their eyes off you.”
“All the guys in here can tear their eyes off me,” I retorted.
“Girlfriend, wake up. We can get busy but we been a heckuva lot more busy weeknights and it isn’t because Jonelle’s testing the boundaries of indecent exposure and Tonia…” she trailed off.
“Wendy, it’s coming on summer. People come out of hibernation when –”
“They like your ass.”
“They don’t.”
“And your tits.”
“Wendy.”
“And your long-ass legs. Your legs go on for-eh-ver. Even Tyler said you had great pegs, the best.”
This surprised me. “He did?”
She smiled. “Yeah. And he’s not a tits and ass man, he likes lean and cut but he sure likes your legs.”
“Shut up.”
“He does!”
“Shut up!”
“Ace!” Tate shouted, both Wendy and I jumped and twisted our necks to look his way. “You cashed out or what?” Tate asked still in a shout.
“I’m cashed out,” I shouted back.
“You wanna socialize for the next hour or are we gonna go?” He was still shouting and I was acutely aware, due to the fact that the noise level declined significantly, that the entire bar was listening.