DELINQUENT

EIGHT

If Thursday night was busy then Friday night was absolute chaos. Deliverance was packed, well over its fire department regulated capacity. It didn't bother Jared. He was safe behind the bar.

Lucky.

Drenched in sweat I had long given up any attempt to appear attractive. A rubber band struggled to contain my sticky, frizzy hair. My shirt was soaked from more than one tray of drinks being slapped out of my hand. Soaking wet, it clung to me rubbing at my hot skin roughly.

Deliverance hosted a live band every Friday night. They weren't half bad. I bobbed my head along with the music as I sifted through the hordes. Half my tables had been sucked into a mosh pit of sorts. I gave up on them after I took an elbow to the back of my head. It still throbbed uncomfortably.

The Iron Frisbees had quite the fan base. Women screamed with want, throwing their heads back and pushing their chests out. A handsome group, they mostly covered rock classics – loudly.

At midnight I gave up conversing and resorted to pointing with a combination of head shaking and giving out thumbs ups.

Jared and Liza pulled Charlie off of his normal duties to help with the demand. He was rooted in front of taps, filling pint after pint. His hands and shirt were covered with foam and beer. Still, he looked happier than I had ever seen him, shaking his hips and shouting along with the crowd.

Between the alcohol, the pulsing crowd, and the riot inducing music, people were flying off the handle. They reached up my oversized shirt for a chance to grope the goods. I didn't have enough hands to slap them away, I sent up a thank you prayer to the American Eagle gods for making a thick pair of jean shorts. Most of the grabbing went unnoticed through the sturdy material.

Worse than that, Jameson Neat and his thick wallet had been a no show.

Worst of all, I didn't just miss his money. I longed for his lingering glances and the gravitational pull that we shared between us.

I hadn't even realized that I was waiting for him until a young couple took his usual table. I ignored them, they were too busy making out to order. I wasn't going to beg for their attention when I had plenty of people begging for mine.

Even with all the pushing and shoving, I smiled. I lived for this, for the rush. For all that f*****g money.

I leaned over the bar shouting orders to Liza who strained her neck to hear me. She looked ravishing tonight. Her hair fell straight and sleek down her back, the neon signs on the wall reflected bright colors off it. She nodded as I relayed orders and filled plastic cups accordingly. We had run out of glass an hour ago.

A hard body pressed into my back, hands reaching over mine. I gasped as my hips dug into the wood bar top.

"Who do I have to do to get a drink around here?" Tom's voice was low and raspy. Butterflies flared up in my stomach and goosebumps filled my arms as his breath hit my exposed neck.

I shook my head and pretended to be strong, unaffected by his skin on mine, "Don't you mean what?" I asked. Tom chuckled and leaned into me further, intertwining our fingers. Liza rolled her eyes at the exchange and started stacking my tray with drinks.

His lips brushed the top of my ear. "I'll be at my table." I opened my mouth to - I didn't know. To insult him? Beg him to kiss me? I was all kinds of f****d up when it came to this guy. Before I let whatever was on the tip of my tongue slip out, he was gone.

A chill skittered over my body. One second of contact and I missed it.

I thought I had agreed to stop being pathetic.

I picked up the tray and mouthed a thank you to Liza before I shot off to deliver. As I passed the flimsy cups to a long line of burly motorcyclists, I felt that familiar pull. I let my eyes drift over to Tom. I shouldn't have been surprised to see that he had claimed the table for himself. He probably threatened the young couples lives for it.

One of his brows arched at me and with a sexy half smirk he gestured to his empty table. I rolled my eyes dramatically before hustling back to the bar.

I slipped behind it, dodging around Jared and Charlie. I seized a bottle of Jameson then from Liza's station, I plucked a long black straw. Smirk on my mouth, I stomped to Tom's table, made a show of unscrewing the bottle and placing the straw in it before I placed did in front of him.

"Let me know when you need a refill." I forced my voice to come out high and sugary sweet. like a naïve high school waitress serving up milkshakes. I gave him a cringe worthy smile and turned on my heel. He wasn't worth my time tonight. There was no way I would get a tip out of him any other way.

I handed Liza another order of drinks, tally's next to each type told her how many I wanted of each. Four draft Two Hearted's, five amaretto sours, three shots of fireball.

My eyes strayed to Tom as I waited for her. He already had me in his sights. He yanked the straw out of the bottle and with his thumb and pointer, flicked it onto the floor. He lifted the bottle up to me with a 'cheers' motion before taking a long swig.

Even though there was no glass for me to fill, no demand for my attention. I felt myself checking on him constantly. Anger coursing through me when I checked on him for the fifth time in as many minutes and saw that a young woman leaned over his table, her hip jutted sexily out to the side.

To my immense delight, he waved her off.

It wasn't until 2 that Jared finally sent Liza and Charlie home. I awarded them each with a big tip before they went home to pass out.

The band was long gone, equipment packed up leaving an empty, beer covered stage. My tables were too drunk to order so I settled out all of their bills.

Tom had left with the bottle in his hand. Before he departed, he slipped Jared enough to cover the bottle and me a crisp hundred-dollar bill. Definitely my best night yet.

"Tom is waiting for you outside." Jared told me. I let out a lengthy groan.

"Hey, I'll be done in an hour if you want to wait." I appreciated the thought but I couldn't make it another minute here. I was dead on my feet.

I clocked out with the computer and gathered my purse from the back. "I'll see you tomorrow Jared."

"See you tomorrow."

Tom was outside, leaning against his black SUV. A lone cigarette hung out of his mouth as he argued on his phone. Who could we possibly be talking to at this time?

I held my hand out for him, he put his keys in it, and opened the front door for me. His attention still on his phone. "Get it done." He snapped. Removing the phone from his ear, he let out a sudden sigh. His hand moved to his forehead where he rubbed at his temples.

"Everything okay?" I inquired gently. I slumped into his car, my body hummed at the moment's rest.

He joined me with a small, tired sigh, "Just work." He groaned letting his eyes slide over to meet mine. "Always work." The tone did something to me, the somber notes reminding me of Dad coming home at midnight, eating and heading back to the office. I reached over and soothingly stroked his arm with my thumb.

He fell asleep again on the ride home, his hand covering mine. With one hand, I lined up the car in the same spot it occupied the night before. Then after a mental debate. I woke him.

He blinked awake and let out a long yawn stretching his arms in front of him.

"Are you coming?" I asked breathlessly.

His expression surprised, he nodded like a mute. We strolled into the complex and lugged ourselves up the stairs. I didn't bother with the apartment light, didn't bother with dinner. I brushed my teeth, splashed water on my cheeks, untied my apron and collapsed into bed.

Tom joined me a minute later.