Page 8 of Shaken and Stirred (Bottle Service Boys #1)

RYDER

“Will this be a common occurrence now that you’ve returned home?

” My mother breezed into the room with her open robe floating around her like a silk parachute.

Even at eight on a Sunday morning, she had a full face of professionally applied makeup and an artfully arranged hairdo her stylist had crafted.

With the amount of time and money my mother spent making sure she looked perfect, she could have solved many of the world’s problems.

My sister, Vera, who trailed in after our mother, snorted when she caught sight of me.

Four years my junior and smack in the middle of college, Vera should have been the one with dark sunglasses, a vat of coffee, and a bottle of Motrin beside her plate of plain toast. Instead, she had a fresh face and sparkling eyes that spoke to a solid eight hours of uninterrupted sober sleep while I suffered.

“Aww, feeling a little hungover this morning, bro?” she asked with the kind of micro-aggressive sweetness only a sibling could pull off.

“I’m good,” I mumbled into my coffee.

“Really, Ryder dear, shouldn’t you be over this phase of life by now? You’re not in a fraternity anymore.”

Didn’t I know it? The frat had given me a place to sleep that wasn’t my stuffy childhood home with my image-conscious parents.

I needed to get my own apartment and fast. Three weeks back at home had me losing my mind.

Unfortunately, my parents were pressuring me to move into one of the hotels my father owned.

Two of their five-star luxury hotels offered penthouse apartments with hotel amenities.

They were gorgeous, trendy, and someplace anyone would kill to live.

For me, moving there felt like a lateral move.

Living in a building owned by my father’s corporation would allow him a bird’s-eye view of my life and the potential for control— his favorite hobby.

“There’s no phase of life. I went out with some friends I haven’t seen in a year and a half. We had a fun night. Sue me.”

My mother’s delicate scoff was the stuff of legends.

She didn’t yell or make a scene when she disapproved of someone’s behavior—someone being my sister, father, or me.

Instead, she let out the same grating cluck every time.

She had the annoying tsk-tsk down to a science.

The sound had an arrogant air of superiority that let us know whatever we’d done to earn the infamous scoff had her frowning down on us from her platinum tower.

We lived so far below her that we looked like ants as we committed our sins.

My mother used shiny silver tongs to set a variety of fruit on her white plate.

Cora, our family’s longtime chef, knew better than to provide my mother with an actual stick-to-your-ribs breakfast. Nothing more than fruit and lemon tea for the figure-conscious Miranda Calloway.

It was how she kept her petite frame skinny enough for the society pages.

“So,” she said as she joined me at the table. “How are you planning to spend your time today?”

What the seemingly innocent question really meant was, now that you’ve quit grad school, how long are you planning to embarrass me with your lack of ambition?

“Yeah, big bro,” Vera said with a smirk. “What are you planning to do with your life?”

They didn’t want to know. They really didn’t want to know.

I’d come out to my parents at age twelve with less dread than I had now.

Despite being in the top tier of the social elite, my parents were quite open-minded when it came to my sexual orientation.

I think they enjoyed the philanthropy and recognition associated with supporting LGBTQIA+ causes more than they actually supported their gay son, but I couldn’t complain.

I’d had an easier time in that regard than almost any of my queer friends.

Especially those few queer friends in my family’s circle who were treated like a pariah or whose parents ignored their coming out and flat-out pretended their children were straight.

However, telling them how I wanted to spend my adult working years would not be met with the same acceptance, or any acceptance at all.

So, I went with a version of the truth. “I’m going to take off this semester, then enroll at Boston University.

I’ve already been accepted for a transfer.

” To a completely different field of study, in which I’d have to take a few undergraduate-level classes before I could enter the master’s program.

Luckily, I could do them virtually. My first online class started tomorrow.

“Oh.” My mother blinked. “Well, that’s wonderful.” Surprise and delight transformed my mother’s face, which only made my stomach clench, and since I’d already puked up my guts this morning, this was not a good thing.

“Yeah.” The word scraped my throat worse than the dry toast Cora generously made for my roiling stomach.

“Uh, think I might get a job too.” My lips twitched.

No doubt, Alex went to bed and woke up this morning praying to the god of alcohol that I forgot my bold promise to work alongside him.

The details might be fuzzy, but the look of horror on his face wasn’t.

Who could forget that? It would be a blast. Music, liquor, and socializing with sexy men all night? It sounded perfect to me.

“Oh?” My mother tilted her head. “Your father didn’t mention you’d be taking a job.”

Because he didn’t know. Because I wasn’t going to be working at his corporation. Of course, in my mother’s eyes, there were no alternative possibilities.

“No, uh…” My stomach lurched. “Since I’m taking off the semester, I decided to do something just for fun.”

She arched a perfectly shaped light eyebrow. Vera and I got our blond hair from her genetic pool. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I’m going to be working at a nightclub. It’s a high-end luxury one downtown.”

My mom’s shocked gasp met my ears at the same time my sister’s eyes flared wide, and she bit her lower lip. I could still see her damn smirk.

“A nightclub?” my mother whispered as though the etiquette police might be listening. “Must you, Ryder? What will I tell people?”

“Are you going to be a bouncer? No, no… a go-go dancer?” Vera’s eyes danced with mirth. I scratched my ear with my middle finger, making her laugh out loud.

“Vera, please don’t laugh so loud. You sound like a hyena.”

I nearly spit out my coffee. Vera shook her head while I shot her a victorious smirk.

“Please tell me this is a joke, Ryder.” My mother’s face had paled to an ashy gray. “You cannot possibly dance in your underwear for money. I swear, I’ve never understood your sense of humor.”

Rolling my eyes, I pushed my mostly uneaten toast to the center of the table. “I will not be dancing around in my underwear for money. I’ll be working the VIP section, serving overpriced drinks to luxury clients.”

In my underwear, for money.

My mother frowned at her dragon fruit. “I don’t like this, Ryder. This is not what we do. I don’t think we should let this information leave the table.”

“Oh, man.” Vera pouted. “Just as I was getting all jazzed to tell everyone I know.”

I narrowed my eyes at her before turning to my mom with a shrug. “You’re making too big of a deal out of this. As I said, this is just a fun thing to pass the time until school begins next semester.”

A flash of Alex getting up in my face last night spread through my brain like a lightning bolt.

He’d been hot, sexy even, dressed in those damn tiny shorts with his nipples on display like two flashing bullseyes.

The finer details were muddled thanks to Turk and his love of Reposado.

I did remember how Alex had been furious with me, but he smelled so fucking good.

Body soap combined with sweat and the scent of tequila.

You think I work here for fun?

What the hell did that even mean? Of course, I knew he worked at Top Shelf to make money. But the way he’d said it, with desperate fury, surprised me. Was his situation that dire? Or had I been more impaired than I realized, and my memories were distorted?

Regardless, if I secured a job working with Alex, two facts reigned. I’d get to see a lot more of his exposed body, and I’d have a blast dodging the death rays he’d send my way for the next few months.

Mom stood, pressing a hand to her chest. “I’ll figure something out,” she mumbled as though this was a serious problem she had to solve. “Excuse me. I’m late for Pilates.” She left the room, abandoning her uneaten fruit plate for the staff to deal with.

“That went well,” I muttered.

“What’s up with you?” Vera’s voice made me jump.

She stared at me as she blew on her coffee.

Unlike our mother, she had a makeup-free face and her blonde hair in a messy bun atop her head while wearing an old sweatshirt of mine with flannel pajama pants.

“You left school, you’re getting a job, are you having a quarter-life crisis or something? ”

“I didn’t leave school. I’m changing schools.”

And my degree.

“Hmm.” Her eyes narrowed. “Interesting.”

I squirmed beneath her meddlesome gaze, then tugged at the collar of my hoodie. Had I gained weight? Why the hell did it feel like it was strangling me? “What the hell does that mean? Interesting ?” I screwed up my face and exaggerated her tone.

A grin broke out across Vera’s face. We share the same coloring, light skin that tanned easily, and blond hair we were lucky enough not to have to pay to achieve. We also shared blue eyes, but hers were darker, almost navy, especially when she was sticking her nose in my business.

“No need to get defensive, big brother. It doesn’t mean anything. Usually, people have a reason for the things they do, and I’m just wondering what yours is.”