Page 6 of Demon
I loaded a tray with drinks for a table of men looking out over the stage, wandering between the booths and the mismatch of tables with the glasses carefully placed on the round black tray. I edged in beside them, lowering the drinks and sliding them across the table, careful not to stoop too low so they didn’t confuse me with the girls on the stage. But it seemed I hadn’t succeeded.
Fingers trailed up the back of my leg, skimming over the bottom of my buttock, hanging out the ridiculous shorts. I stepped sideways, but not enough to stay out of reach. The hand followed, groping one cheek, sliding round the inside of my leg. This man was about to be wearing his drink.
But suddenly his grip loosened, and his head hit the table. Repeatedly. The noise was loud even over the music. Chairs scraping backwards, the heavy thuds of a skull against the hardness of the wood, the shouts of men. Fuck. The place was erupting around me. Men ran up behind the assailant, dragging him backwards, others yanking the man whose hands had been on me moments ago up to his feet, blood pouring from a nasty gash on his forehead. And then he was marched out, his friends looking at each other in confusion.
Behind me, the assailant fought against the men holding him. He was angry, with dark hair and a thin nose that ended in a point. And now I could remember his lips on mine.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Could ask you the same question,” he grumbled, shrugging off the men holding onto him.
“You two’ve met?” The man on his right asked.
“In a fashion,” I answered, my eyes gazing over the men stood behind me all wearing black leather waistcoats over their t-shirts.
The man who assaulted the punter glared at me.
“You still pissed I pulled out in front of you, huh?”
He shook his head. “You work here?”
“Nah. This is just a hobby.”
He rolled his eyes, and the men beside him laughed. Terry came running up behind them, his face tight. Guess I wouldn’t be working here much longer. But it wasn’t me his attention was fixed on, and it looked like the biker was going to be getting his marching orders, too.
“Demon! Demon!” Terry rambled, looking worried. “What the fuck happened?”
“Why the fuck you not got anyone looking after your staff?” The biker growled angrily. “These fuckers here were touching up one of your barmaids. I want them gone.”
Terry nodded, looking pale, and beckoned for the rest of the punters on the table to get to their feet. The men on either side of the biker ushered them out, their backs turning towards me. And on the backs of their leather waistcoats, three skulls wearing crowns were embroidered. The top rocker read Northern Kings, the bottom rocker read Newcastle upon Tyne. And I knew a motorcycle gang cut when I saw one. Extra Fuck.
Chapter Four
Demon
Anger surged through my blood. Hot. Irrational. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen the punters grope the women. Seen them put hands in places that weren’t invited. Yet suddenly I was a bull and he’d waved a red flag.
Fury and the twins pulled the astonished men up off their seats, pushing them to the exit as the dark-haired bar maid stared at me, then at them, then back at me again. She quirked an eyebrow at me in challenge. A demand for an explanation and I shook my head at her in answer. I needed a drink. But that would have to wait. Our patches brought us enough attention from the local police, and the last thing they needed was ammunition to bang one of us up in a cell for the night.
Reap moved across to the barmaid, who’d now returned to the table with a cloth.
“You OK, love?” I watched his lips move, the words drowned by the heavy beat of the music.
The punters at neighbouring tables had gone back to observing whichever naked woman was gyrating round the pole on the stage. Reap and the girl exchanged some words and now I watched as she bent over the table, her arse hanging out the bottom of the shorts. Maybe I should make Tez change the dress code? It had never bothered me before. I didn’t mind looking either, but suddenly I felt responsible. Responsible for every male whose eyes had raked over her and whose hands had touched her.
Tez dropped into the booth beside me, sitting quietly, waiting for me to acknowledge him. I didn’t. I watched the brunette go back and forth to the bar, carrying drinks, cleaning glasses. She never stopped, always doing something.
“Demon?” he said eventually, sick of sitting in the strained silence next to me.
“What, mate?”
“You OK?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Just. That,” he flicked his hand out in front of him, pausing as he chose his words carefully. “That was unusual. You don’t normally react like that.”
I rubbed at my eyes. “Who is that girl?”