Page 16 of Petals of Blue, Part One (Wilted Duet #1)

Eleven

BLUE

Icried and cried and cried last night. Violet's snuggles and Levi's encouraging words got me through the night, but still...I haven't broken down like that in years.

My eyes burn today, and unfortunately, they're the only thing I need to work right now. Studying the policies and rules for the security team is proving to be a difficult feat.

I love working as a bartender, but when I heard that our head of security is retiring, something inside me lit up. An idea sparked to life three months ago, and the support I've received from everyone lit the fuse.

I'm a natural leader with enough defensive skills that I might just be able to run security for Serpent's Kiss. Because I've worked here for a long ass time, I know the building and our customers like the back of my hand.

Though I might not have the training to be a bouncer or security guard, I sure as hell know the team. I've been studying them, their blind spots, their strengths and placement preferences. Not being one of them might be a problem, but that's why I have to pass this test with flying colors.

I'm ready for something new. For eleven years, I've been a bartender—I don't want my background to be booze anymore.

Doubling down on my notes, I barely notice Kevin dropping off another coffee. He's been instrumental in helping me fill in the gaps that I can't get from reading manuals.

I focus and soak as much in as I can for...Shoot, what time is it?

"Blue! We're opening!" Janine shouts, poking her head into the office.

"Shit!" I jump up, shove my stuff into my backpack and dash to the bathroom to change. Cotton shorts and a sweatshirt aren't appropriate clothes for work.

Breaking a sweat as I shimmy into a pair of leather pants and a sparkly silver bra is incredibly common. I regret the pants, but I didn't pack anything else. "It's fine," I huff and fluff my bright blue hair up.

My combat booties will be fun tonight, at least. With my trusty water bottle, I lock my backpack away in our lounge and rush for the bar.

Sexy, messy, and ready to get people drunk. Let’s go.

At least I don't close tonight. I repeat that over and over in my head. Sometimes I wish we were a normal club that's only open on weekends until I remember that wouldn't pay the bills.

One big thing that sets Serpent's Kiss apart from the other nightlife of Chicago is that we're open seven days a week. We're in the center of downtown, with constant college kids and people visiting for more than just Cloud Gate, also known as The Bean, or our pizza.

Someone has to give these people a good time, and that's us. It's exhausting, but at least I have Tuesdays and Wednesdays off. Those are our slowest days since they seem to be the days people travel home. Monday through Thursday we close at one in the morning; the other nights are three A.M.

Our owners are looking into getting a Late Hour Liquor License which would allow us to close at five in the morning. Gross.

For a Monday, it's ridiculously busy here. My feet are dying. I should have stuck to my tennis shoes. At least I'm off early. Do I wish I could always clock out before midnight? Yes. I'm just trying to be grateful that I can tonight.

Then I have two days off. Just an hour and a half left.

"How are those leather pants treating you?" Janine teases while wiping sweat from her brow with a paper towel.

I flip her off. "Mondays aren't supposed to be this wild."

Maybe there's some sort of festival or concert nearby that I missed. My brain has been yanking me off track since dancing with Felix last Friday.

"I'm starving," I complain to Bethany a short while later.

It's not Bethany who replies, though. Four men, the ones who star in all my nightmares, sidle up to the bar with varying looks of caution and determination. Declan eyes my gauze wrapped wrist with so much guilt I have to look away.

"Come take a break with us, Erica."

Of course it's Felix who demands something from me. All thoughts of devouring a dozen tacos or a whole pizza shrivel up in gut-roiling annoyance.

Beth stiffens in solidarity with me. I told my girlfriends a bit of what was going on before cycling last night.

No details or much backstory. Just that some guys from high school were bothering me.

For the first time since waking up this morning, I'm grateful I cried out all of my goddamn tears.

Now all I have to offer is exhaustion and anger.

"I told you to leave me alone. And my name is Blue," I state, cracking open a White Claw and handing it to a customer.

Never did I think Felix, Declan, Jared, and Roman would be standing at my bar. I feel sick and like I'm about to crawl out of my skin. They're violating my happy place.

"Erica..."

Roman...

To say I'm shocked at the pain I hear in his voice is an understatement. What does he have to be upset about right now? Maybe he doesn't like my hair like Jared or some shit.

A strobe light flashes across Roman, and what I see has me sucking in a gasp. Colorless flowers are tattooed around the sides of his neck. For me? No! He wouldn't do that.

Snapping my eyes up, I take in the rest of him. Dark shaggy hair and pale skin, Roman is wider and slightly taller than the other three. He's built to hurt, but the soft, scared look on his scruffy face says the opposite.

"You're great at ignoring me, aren't you, Roman?" It's a jab, and it makes him flinch just as I had hoped. Obviously he's ignoring my wishes and my new name, but that was meant to be deeper. He ignored all my texts—completely ghosted me like Jared.

As the most mature one in our group growing up, I expected more from him. Clearly, he doesn't have the balls to be a fucking man. Not back then, and not now either, it seems.

"Petal..." Roman croaks, leaning over the bar.

Throwing my wrapped wrist up in the air, I halt him from doing any more damage. Petal...his nickname for me.

Bethany wraps an arm around my hip, giving me the strength to reply. "We don't serve assholes. Get out."

"Blue, babe!"

Son of a motherfucking bitch. Pasting on a fake as shit smile, I wave at our regular. Bethany swoops in to deal with it, thank hell. "I'll get your usual, Dale!" she titters and goes about making him a Captain and Coke.

"Thanks." Dale doesn't even spare Beth a glance as he drapes himself across the bar next to Felix. Already drunk, Dale doesn't fail to make an ass out of himself. "Blue, how 'bout that shot tonight, hmm?"

His slurring makes me cringe. "Not tonight. We're too busy."

A dark look fills his eyes. "Seriously? Just one shot. You fucking owe me, bitch."

Then all hell breaks loose.