Page 25 of Shaken and Stirred (Bottle Service Boys #1)

“Ryder…” What was there to say? Until a few hours ago, I’d thought he’d lived a perfect, charmed life.

And maybe he did. Maybe whatever he’d been arguing with his dad about was the ultimate first-world, rich-boy problem.

Maybe his black AMEX had a new spending cap, or his Range Rover wasn’t his favorite color.

Perhaps the alligator shoes he’d ordered got delayed, and dear old Dad had no sway with the delivery company.

But I didn’t think so. This felt more, bigger.

Ryder’s sorrow felt real, and for whatever reason, I didn’t like seeing it on him.

“Leave me the fuck alone, Alex. You know Parker doesn’t like two BSBs to take a break at once. And we both know who’ll be blamed for it tonight.”

“Don’t be a dick, Ryder. I’m trying to be nice here.”

He grunted. “Why shouldn’t I be a dick? It’s what you think of me. It’s what you’ve always thought of me. Might as well live up to it.”

I pressed my lips together. Years of dealing with Kenny’s bullshit taught me to control my temper, but Ryder was pushing it. “Look, I’m sure our problems are very different, but—”

He barked out a harsh laugh, throwing his hands in the air.

“Yeah, FL, I’m sure they are. And your biggest problem is going to be me if you don’t leave me the fuck alone.

” He advanced on me as he shouted. Stopping only when we were almost nose to nose.

His chest heaved, and his eyes burned with anger.

He was so damn close I could smell the expensive whiskey on his breath from the shot he’d done with his table recently.

I could taste it so easily. Just slip my tongue right into his mouth and sample all that smooth whiskey and building heat. My dick sure liked the idea. It swelled, and I couldn’t do a damn thing to hide it in the ridiculous work shorts.

“Are you fucking listening to me?” Ryder shouted.

His tone crashed over me like a bucket of ice water, jerking me back to reality.

I scoffed. “You know what? You’re right, Ryder. I have always thought you were a dick, and tonight you proved me right yet again.” I stepped back. “Go ahead and drown in your shitty mood for all I care. Don’t know why I’m trying to save your fucking job anyway.”

I spun and shouldered my way out of the staff room. Dance music assaulted my ears and overwhelmed my frayed nerve endings. Screw him. It wasn’t my fucking fault if he got his ass canned.

“Whoa,” Trevor said as I stomped over to the bar. He sat at the end, sipping a bottle of water. “What crawled up your ass?”

“Nothing,” I muttered, which made Trevor giggle.

“Maybe that’s the problem, my friend.” He leaned on his gold, sparkly elbows and arched an eyebrow. “Maybe you need something to crawl up your ass.”

Dom set a water bottle down in front of me. “I’m not one to kink shame, Trev, but I don’t think anyone needs anything crawling in their ass.”

“You have a point,” Trevor said with a laugh as he used a napkin to wipe the sweat off his forehead. I’d never understand how he danced for hours on end, but he loved Wednesday nights. “My point remains, though.” He pointed at me. “You need to get laid. How long has it been?”

If he only knew.

“Ryder was late tonight, Trev,” I said instead of answering that very dangerous question.

Trevor’s jaw dropped. “What?” He slapped my bare chest. “And you’re just mentioning this now?”

“Yep. Parker went all disappointed father on him too.”

“Now you’re just being mean.” Trevor bit his lower lip as he fanned himself with the damp napkin. “I miss all the good stuff when I’m dancing.”

“If you promise not to come in your shorty shorts, I’ll break a glass in front of him later.” Dom waggled his eyebrows as I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing.

Trevor, of course, clapped his hands. “Would you? Dom, you’re the best,” he practically squealed when the bartender nodded. “I’d do it myself, but I think he’s onto me.”

“Might have something to do with you bending over and asking if he wanted to spank you last time you broke something.”

He pouted. “Porn-fucking-lies,” he grumbled, to which both Dom and I cracked up.

I needed to get back to my tables before Parker noticed me slacking. Trevor would probably come on the spot in that case, and I had less than no interest in watching my friend spontaneously orgasm from our boss’ stern tone.

“All right,” I said, wrapping my knuckles on the bar. “I’m out. Thanks for the hydration, Dom. And Trev, you might want to consider therapy.”

He flipped me off and blew me a kiss at the same time while I walked away laughing.

Much better. I owed them a thank you for keeping me from spiraling into a shitty mood after my interaction with Ryder.

“Yo! Alex, my man!” One of my VIPs slung an arm across my shoulder as their group returned to their table from the dance floor. “Shots! We need shots. At least three rounds, right now.”

Christ. They were already shitfaced. Three more rounds of shots might make them comatose. “You got it,” I said, despite my stomach roiling at the thought. “What are you up for this round?”

“Surprise us.”

“Yes! I love surprises.” They all started cheering and chanting, “Surprise us,” as I shook my head. “Be right back, gentlemen.”

One of the most challenging aspects of the job was determining how much was too much.

Parker was adamant about not overserving, but the line could be as thin as a strand of hair.

Many of the guys who partied at Top Shelf could drink me under the table a dozen times over.

They were practically professional partiers who could suck back more alcohol than should be possible on a Wednesday night and get up for work on Thursday.

Cutting them off too early could result in an angry review or a bad tip.

Letting them drink to excess could result in a fight, vomit, or alcohol poisoning.

Thankfully, Parker was always willing to be the bad guy if we needed to tell a customer he’d no longer be served alcohol.

These guys seemed to be handling the high volume of alcohol well, even if half of what they’d drunk would have put me under.

As I returned with two dozen shots on my tray, I saw Ryder frowning at his table. It looked like his night wasn’t getting any better anytime soon.

Whatever. Not my problem, as he so clearly stated.

Unfortunately, that sentiment didn’t last as long as I’d hoped. Trying to ignore him and let him choke on his failure, I couldn’t stop casting concerned glances his way. A few times, I even helped him out by grabbing empties off his table or wiping a spill, all without his knowledge, of course.

“Hey, Alex?” Parker’s voice had me whipping around where I stood near the bar, waiting on Dom to fill my table’s order. “Can I ask you a favor?”

Oh shit. Was he about to ask for a report on Ryder’s performance tonight?

“Of course, boss. What can I do for you?”

Don’t ask it. Don’t ask it.

“Would you be able to lock up for me tonight?” He rubbed at his temples. “I think I’ve got a migraine brewing, and I’d like to head home early.”

Relief hit me. Closing, I could do. “Yeah, of course.” I’d closed several times, and aside from having to be the last one to leave, it wasn’t a big deal. The task involved a final sweep of the club, locking the external doors, and setting the security system. Nothing to it.

“Thank you, Alex. I appreciate it.”

“No worries, boss.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Parker muttered. “What is going on with him tonight?”

My stomach sank as I followed his gaze to Ryder’s table, where one of his VIPs was shouting and waving his arms while Ryder stood with a drink in hand. Most likely he’d fucked up another order.

Parker huffed in annoyance and took a step in Ryder’s direction.

“Um, Parker?” I caught my boss’ arm before he could go and rip Ryder a new one. “Is it okay if I handle this one? He’s having an off night, but he’s still new. We can probably cut him a little slack.”

“Fine. My head aches too much to deal with it anyway. But if I end up having to handle a table demanding a refund, it’s on you.”

Yikes. Why the hell did Trevor like it when Parker got mad?

“It won’t come to that.”

“Better not,” he muttered as he turned his back on me and started for his office.

Sighing, I made my way to Ryder’s table. He’d probably be pissed I was intervening, but something had to give. There had to be some way to pull him out of his funk tonight.

I stopped halfway to his table as heat flashed through me. Of course, there was a way to fix his shitty night. And Parker had handed me the perfect opportunity for it.