Page 11 of Shaken and Stirred (Bottle Service Boys #1)

RYDER

The daytime vibe in a nightclub was strange, to say the least. While the décor hadn’t changed from Saturday night—the sexy, dark green velvet curtains draped the black walls, elegant gold light fixtures dangled from the ceiling, and the gorgeous bar gleamed with cleanliness—everything else felt off.

The space was so quiet that my footsteps reverberated as I crossed the buffed wooden dance floor.

Bright lights illuminated every inch of the space, eliminating the shadowed, sexy atmosphere from the other night.

The club felt vast and lonely without bodies crammed in every corner, writhing to the beat.

I wanted to turn off the lights, crank up the speakers, and shed most of my clothing.

This was unnerving.

“Unnerving, isn’t it?” A deep, commanding voice had me whipping around to find a gorgeous man wearing a suit perfectly tailored to his medium frame. He had dark hair with a sprinkle of salt, giving him the distinguished look of a gracefully aging A-list Hollywood star.

“It is. Not gonna lie, I like it better dark, loud, and crowded.”

The man half-smiled. It made his dark eyes twinkle, but didn’t erase his grave, almost severe countenance. “So do I, considering that’s when I make my money.”

I chuckled. “You must be Mr. Hughes.” I hurried across the dance floor to greet the club’s owner. “Ryder Calloway,” I said as I extended my hand.

“Parker, please. I hate the formality of having my employees call me Mister, especially considering what I make them wear to work.” He winked, and I laughed out loud.

What a pleasant surprise. On first impression, everything about this man seemed formal, from his Armani suit to his shiny shoes—were those alligator?

Nice—to his impeccable posture and even his flawless skin.

Parker seemed the type to demand rigid perfection from his employees rather than allowing them to use his first name for their comfort.

But I’d never had a boss, so what the hell did I know?

“Parker it is,” I said, shooting him the grin I’d been told charmed many men into my bed. Well, my pants, anyway, most never made it as far as my bed. Club bathrooms and random rooms at a frat house were more my style—quicker and less messy that way.

“Come on up to my office.” Parker turned and strode toward a back hallway. “I prefer to conduct interviews up there.”

I couldn’t help but admire the man’s backside as he walked, both his ass and the expanse of his shoulders.

I’d bet beneath that very well-fitting suit he had a nicely muscled body, probably sprinkled with the same salt and pepper hair his head boasted.

All in all, Parker was a devastatingly handsome man.

The man must be drowning in dick, owning the most exclusive gay nightclub in Boston.

Older men didn’t do much for me. Sure, I could admire them and my cock had no problem appreciating the view, but I never went after them. I had enough issues with my real father. I didn’t want a man thinking he could act like my daddy and tell me what to do.

No fucking thank you.

I followed him up a staircase directly into a large, glamorous office.

The office’s rear wall was the same obsidian as the walls downstairs, but the front was a semicircle lined with windows.

Parker had a perfect view of the bar, half the dance floor, and the VIP section.

Somehow, I’d failed to look up when I’d been here Saturday night.

Otherwise, I’d have noticed this setup where Top Shelf’s king spent his nights observing his empire in action.

“Please, have a seat,” he said as he strode to a black wooden desk. “Welcome to my office, which has been dubbed the Bird’s Nest by my staff.”

I chuckled as I sat across the desk from him in a plush chair, the same green velvet as the curtains.

It was luxurious and so damn soft I wanted to strip down and rub my naked body all over it.

I’d bet money Parker had fucked in his chair.

Or at least sat bare-assed while an eager-to-please man kneeled between his legs and choked on his cock.

I sure would have.

“Thanks. It’s beautiful in here. The entire club is gorgeous. You have one hell of a decorator.”

Parker grinned with pride. “Thank you. This place is my world.” Something about the way he said those words had me tilting my head to study him. There seemed to be an undercurrent of sadness hidden beneath his posh exterior.

Interesting.

And not my business.

I was there to work, hopefully, and show Alex he wasn’t the only man who could rake in monster tips.

“So you’re interested in a position as a bottle service boy?”

“I am.”

Parker leaned back in his leather captain’s chair, folding his hands across his stomach. “That position is Wednesday through Saturday nights from nine p.m. until two a.m. After two, we close up, and as soon as the place is spotless, you can go.”

“Sounds great.”

“Have you been to my club before? As a patron?”

“I have. I was here this past Saturday night.”

He nodded. “So you’re aware of the uniform. It’s… small, but customers love it.”

I flashed him a grin. “Not a problem. I was a fan of it myself.”

A fan of Alex in it, not that anyone would ever find that out.

“Do you have experience with bottle service or bartending?”

“I do not, but I have plenty of experience paying for it, so I’ve picked up a few things.”

Parker grunted and frowned.

Shit. The man was not impressed with me.

“This job is not as frivolous as it seems, Ryder. Bottle service is not an excuse to party. Customers are often overly friendly and want you to party with them. My BSBs are allowed one drink or shot every two hours. Most don’t even drink that much.

It gets old. They pour themselves water or apple juice and shoot that as often as the client asks. ”

That little shit. No wonder stick-up-his-ass Alex was happy to down every round we’d asked him for and never wobbled once. He’d been cheating all night.

“That makes sense. Hard to do your job if you’re sloppy.”

He nodded. “I also have a strict no-fraternization policy with customers or other staff. At least while you’re on the clock or in the building.

I don’t give a shit what or who you do on your own time, but my club is not a meat market.

It’s the highest-end gay nightclub in all of Boston for a reason.

Everything we do is a level above, and I hold all my employees to that standard. ”

Seriously? A bunch of hot guys working in their damn underwear and he thought they adhered to this no-fraternization policy? I’d bet my first night of tips that rule was broken and broken often.

Parker chuckled. “I can see the wheels turning in your head. I’m very aware that sex of all kinds happens here every night.

I’d need an extraordinary amount of security to prevent it, and then I’d lose business, so I’m willing to look the other way, but not when it comes to my staff.

I will not have my club subjected to bad press because my staff can’t control themselves. ”

“Understood. That won’t be an issue.”

He studied me for a moment, seeming to assess my believability. More likely to determine how much of a horndog I was and whether I’d follow his keep-it-in-your-pants-at-work rule, which I could. I wasn’t there to hook up. I was there to one-up.

“Your timing is perfect,” Parker said. He unfolded his arms and opened his desk, drawing out a packet of paperwork. One of my long-time guys resigned yesterday. He’s starting an internship and can no longer keep such late nights.”

“Oh, that is good timing.”

“The first month is a probationary trial. You’ll shadow and co-service with one of my guys for a week, then have one table with some oversight from your mentor. After a month, we meet, and if it’s going well, you’ll have more tables on your own.”

A devilish excitement zinged through me. “So, uh, I actually know Alex. I’ve known him for years. He’d be the perfect one to train me.” I gave Parker my most innocent smile.

“Oh, really?” He jotted something on a notepad. “I’m just making a note of that.”

This was almost too easy. Any simpler and it wouldn’t be fun.

“Yeah, we go way back. Met at a summer enrichment program in high school.”

Parker glanced up from his note-taking. “Well, I’ve gotta say, you being friends with Alex is the best reference you could have.

He is by far my hardest worker. He very rarely calls out, has never been late, and often locks up for me at night.

Customers adore him and request his section more than any of my other bottle service boys. ”

I frowned. Listening to Parker sing Alex’s praises threatened to ruin my new job buzz. However, the thought of outperforming him and becoming the apple of his boss’ eye pumped me right back up.

“He’s so great.” Somehow, I managed to get the words past my lips without gagging.

“When can you start?”

“Well, you said Wednesday to Saturday, and today’s Wednesday, so…”

“Fantastic.” He slid the packet of papers across the desk. “Fill these out, please. There’s a section on the application for your sizes so we can get you a few uniforms. I’ll have them ready for you when you come back at nine tonight.”

“Sounds perfect.” I picked up the Mont Blanc pen on top of the papers and got to work. The forms were straightforward, and within a few minutes of silence, I had them filled out and signed my final signature. “All done. There you go.” I slid them back across the desk.

“Great, I’ll get—”

“Oh, Parker…” A sing-song voice floated up from the staircase. “I brought you some lunch because I’m assuming you haven’t eaten, and have been working since six in the morning when you kicked some needy boy out of your bed to come here. Oh, sorry…”

A wide-eyed guy who couldn’t have been more than five feet six inches appeared at the top of the staircase, holding a white takeout bag. He had platinum blond hair with blue tips, and I couldn’t tell which was tighter, his sunny yellow crop top or his skinny jeans.