Over and Back Read online

  “Something wrong?” Hank asked from behind him. It was the first time Hank had shown any interest in him as a person, and not just a waiter.

  Grant took a deep breath. “Nothing I can’t handle.” The temptation was almost too great. Something about this guy called deeply to Grant, but he pushed back against it when he realized it was leftover training from his ex. Images of them together flashed in Grant’s mind, and he felt himself blush from head to toe in mortification, while waves of humiliation raced through him. He stood still, fighting the urge to run, to get away. That would only draw attention, which he didn’t want to do. The last thing he wanted was for his friends at the club to know his shame, to learn what he’d been willing to do for scraps of attention. Still, Grant had found the strength to leave and was finally rebuilding his life. There was no way in hell he was going back to that kind of relationship. He’d never put himself in that situation again.

  He breathed in and out, doing his best to pull himself together and telling himself he was likely overreacting. His heart rate soon returned closer to normal, and he got himself back into work mode. Besides, he’d seen more than one guy in here who acted the way this stranger did. Grant knew it was mostly for show.

  Grant delivered the drinks, stopping at the confident man’s table last. He placed the drink on the table, as well as the mixed snacks, and stepped back to leave.

  “Where are you going?” the guy asked, cocking his eyebrow. “You don’t have to worry about your job, sweetheart. I know the owner, and he isn’t going to mind.” He lifted his drink and took a sip without so much as looking at him.

  “You do?” Grant asked, trying to add a misleading sense of awe to his voice. He glanced around the room but didn’t see Spook or even Bull. The bouncers were in the back of the club handling a disruptive patron. “Then… well….” Grant’s heart sped up, and he caught Hank’s gaze from behind the bar, not knowing who else to try to signal for help. He was determined to handle this without making a fool of himself. Hank nodded, and Grant hoped to hell he’d gotten his message across.

  “It’s all right.” The guy patted the seat.

  Grant broke out in a cold sweat. He took another step back, intending to get out of the situation, as his flight instincts started to kick in, and walked right into a brick wall. He turned and nearly sighed with relief. “Hi, Bull. This guy says he knows you?”

  “It’s okay, Grant. Go on back to your tables. It’s last call, so you’re bound to be busy.” Bull didn’t smile, but Grant knew it was all right. He nodded and hurried away, turning as Bull stepped closer to the guy.

  While he filled his last drink orders of the night, Grant kept an eye on them. Bull and the man talked, with Bull not looking too happy, his arms crossed over his ample chest. Finally, the man stood, and Bull grabbed him by the arm, nearly lifting him off his feet, and propelled him to the door. Grant half expected Bull to swipe his hands together when he came back inside. But instead, he walked across the emptying club to where Grant was finishing up.

  “If you see him again, I want you to let me or Spook know immediately. Don’t talk to him or serve him. That guy is trouble with a capital T, and I don’t want him in here.” Bull was gruff, and Grant’s gaze followed his to the door.

  “Okay.”

  “Did he hurt you or say anything to you?” Bull asked after a minute.

  Grant shook his head. “All he said was that he knew you and that it was okay if I joined him.” He let out a deep breath in relief. It had been an eventful night, and he just wanted to go home.

  “Good. He isn’t someone who plays nice with others. Like I said, I don’t want him anywhere near the club or the people who work here. If you see him again, call me right away.” Bull gave him a smile and then wove through the thinning crowd toward the door.

  Grant went back to work, clearing tables as more and more patrons left the club.

  “I saw that guy bothering you and got Bull,” Hank said as Grant brought up a tray of glasses.

  He was a little wrung out and grateful for a few seconds to calm himself. “Thanks. He was getting pretty demanding.” Grant figured if Bull had wanted Hank to know about the guy, he’d have told him.

  Billy brought up a tray of glasses as well, smiling at Hank while bumping Grant’s arm, nearly upending his tray. Grant huffed and turned away, leaving the two of them to make goo-goo eyes at each other. This petty shit wasn’t cool, and he was getting tired of it.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket, and Grant pulled it out. There was a message from Zach. Think about the trip.

  Grant shook his head and typed his response. He should go with Billy. The two of them seem pretty tight. Gag me with a sausage. He added LOL and sent the message, dropped his phone back into his pocket, and cleared the last of his tables as the music died and the lights came up.

  Instantly the magic was gone. In the dark, the club was all lights, lasers, flash, beat, and energy. Guys loved it. But it was all an illusion, and as soon as the light came on, the stark black walls and industrial ceiling with beams and metal racks that held the lighting—even fog and bubble machines—came into sharp relief. In a way, the club was the emperor, and it was clear he had no clothes.

  Grant blinked a few times and hurried to finish up. His tables were cleared and wiped and all the dishes brought to the bar within ten minutes. He settled up with all his tabs and received his tips, pleased with what he got from credit cards. Adding in what he already had in cash, he’d done well tonight.

  “Grant,” Bull called after he secured the front door. “This is for you, from our problem customer. I told him he owed you an apology, and the best way to say it was with cash.” He pressed a bill into his hand, and Grant put it right into his pocket.

  “Thanks, Bull.”

  “You have a good night. You did good.” Bull clapped him once on the shoulder and then let him out the front door. “Stay where there’s light, and text when you get to your car.” He waited and then closed the door behind him.

  Grant took a deep breath and turned, heading the half block to his car. Billy came out after him and hurried down the walk, brushing his shoulder out of the way as he passed, the little shit. Billy turned the corner before he did, and when Grant made the turn, he saw Billy with the guy Bull had thrown out of the club. The bigger man’s arm was around his shoulders, and the two of them seemed close. Both of them stopped, then walked over to the passenger side of a dark Corvette, and Billy got in. The other guy walked around the car and slid in behind the wheel. The engine revved, and Grant snickered. The slick guy had just blown his entire image, driving the world’s most impressive compensation car. Not that it was any of his business who Billy decided to go home with, but maybe Billy was in for a little disappointment. Grant smiled to himself and continued on.

  Once at his car, he unlocked it and climbed inside as a message came through.

  No way in hell do we want Billy with us, Zach sent. He’s okay, but he’d ruin the trip. Too much drama. He’d be a disruption, and I already told Hank not to even think of bringing him.

  So, I’m a stopgap measure to keep weasels away?

  No. We all like you and think you’d fit in. Think about it. I doubt that Hank would want to bring him, really. And Billy isn’t long for the club anyway. When we reopen, he isn’t coming back. Zach sent Grant a smiley face. There was definitely no love lost between him and the other waiter. And now Grant had an idea why Billy was giving him a hard time. Just think about it, Zach continued. Hank really wants to go, but he can’t afford to cover everything, and it would be a lot of fun to have you with us.

  It would be almost worth it just to be part of the popular group for once in his life, and to have the chance at having friends like the four guys, who genuinely seemed to like him for him.

  I will. He had the money saved to go, and God knew he could use a vacation.

  Grant locked the car door and started the engine, sitting back as heat pushed away the early-spring chill in the
air. He texted Bull as he waited for the engine to warm up, then started for home, speeding along lonely country roads.

  His parents lived on ten acres in the country. He parked the car in his usual spot, the goats in their pens calling as he got out, and hurried around to the back of the house, unlocked the door to the lower level, and went inside. He had a small living room, a kitchen, bath, and two bedrooms, one of which he used as a game and computer room. Grant set his bag on the chair and went to the refrigerator to pull out a Caffeine Free Diet Coke. He drank it and ate a few crackers while he relaxed on the sofa, turning on late-night television to watch for a little while before going to bed.

  In the dark, with only the flicker of the TV, he sat back to watch and ended up falling asleep. He woke as first light shone in the sliding doors. With a groan, he got up, stripped out of his clothes, and collapsed into bed without a second thought.

  HANK FINISHED stocking the coolers behind the bar and closed the stainless-steel doors tightly. He tried not to let the fatigue of the day catch up with him. It might have been after two in the morning, but there was still work to do. He peered up over the edge of the bar, glancing around the now-quiet space. Hank’s head still pounded with the remnants of hours of ear-rattlingly loud music, and it always took some time for his hearing to return to normal.

  “Are you nearly done?” Bull asked as he leaned over the bar.

  “Not too long.” Hank stood and grabbed a rag from his bucket of bleach solution. He used it to start wiping down the bar, as well as the drink prep spaces, making sure they were properly clean. “The fridges are stocked, and all the glassware is washed and put away. I just need to finish washing everything down and we’ll be good to go.”

  “Excellent.” Bull patted the bar with his hand and moved on.

  Hank picked up speed, trying to get things done so he wasn’t holding up closing. Others mopped the floor and wiped down tables and chairs. Someone put on some slow, calming music, and almost instantly Hank started to sway slightly to it as he worked.

  The chirp of his phone pulled him out of his little bubble of calm. He set it on the bar, glancing at the screen as he worked. There were only a few people he wanted to speak to at this hour, and the name on the screen was the least welcome one of those. Still he’d better answer it or there would be hell to pay… or at least, a hissy fit of epic proportions.

  “Hey, Danny,” Hank said, trying to sound as tired as possible, hoping his ex would make the call brief. “What’s going on?” Their breakup was still new enough that it was tough for Hank to talk to him, but he was trying to be mature about it. They had been together for quite a while.

  “I figured you would still be working,” Danny said, sniping a little. He hated Hank’s job, and always had.

  “It’s what I do. Nothing has changed.” What else was he supposed to say?

  “Yeah… well… you always did love that place too much.” A few of Danny’s words drew out a little too long. Hank could tell he’d been drinking, and that wasn’t good. Danny got mean and demanding when he had too much to drink. “The scenery there was just too good for you to pass up, no matter how many times I tried to help you get a better job.”

  Yeah, the jobs Danny pushed him toward would have made Danny happy, not Hank.

  “Did you call to pick on me for where I work?”

  “I called because I think it’s time you start paying me back for helping you.” Danny paused, and from the gurgle through the line, Hank knew Danny was still drinking. “I can’t keep floating you, now that we aren’t together.”

  “When we split, we agreed to go our separate ways—no harm no foul, you said.” Hank bit back that he hadn’t been the one who had cheated. There was no use patronizing Danny. It would only make him angry, and in his current state of mind, that wouldn’t be good.

  Danny cleared his throat. “Don’t think for a minute that I don’t know what was going on long before you and I were over. For nearly two years, I saw you checking out the guys at the club, especially that kid, Grant. I’m not blind, and no matter what you say, you can’t tell me you never took advantage of all the flash and opportunity the club offers.”

  Hank paused a second. “I never cheated on you. I’m not perfect and I may have my problems….” Okay, so he had plenty of those, but he was working on them and getting help. He switched tacks. “I’ve been going to meetings, just like I promised you I would eighteen months ago, and I haven’t set foot in a casino. I’ve even had gambling sites blocked by my internet provider. All the things I said I’d do, I’ve done.” He wanted this call to end. “Danny, I kept my word and I never cheated. The one who couldn’t move past my problem was you. You said you could, but you never did.” Hank cleared his throat as a jab of hurt and betrayal that he’d thought he should have been over roared back to life.

  Danny groaned, and Hank figured whatever he’d been drinking was really kicking in. “Well, I better not hear about you and that kid. I don’t care what we agreed, I don’t—” He hiccupped.

  “I’m not seeing anyone, and I never fooled around with Grant or anyone else from work, and you know it. But you and I are over. We have been for a while.” It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Danny to head back on over to the guy Hank had caught him with, but he stopped himself. His wounded pride wanted to lash out, but adding hurt to hurt wasn’t going to help either of them. “Just let me get on with my life and you do the same. We’ll both be happier.”

  Danny cleared his throat again. “Just don’t get involved with anyone, or I won’t be as nice as I am now. You owe me, and I will make you pay. So behave.”

  Hank blew air out as the line remained quiet. He wasn’t sure if Danny was still there, but the line was still open. “I need to finish up here at work. You should get some rest and drink plenty of water.”

  “I will.”

  “Take care of yourself,” Hank said before ending the call and placing the phone back on the bar. His stomach still roiled as he forced himself to finish up for the night. He held his head, warding off a pending headache. Hank had never cheated on Danny—ever. In fact, it had never occurred to him to hurt his partner that way. Danny, on the other hand, had never liked Hank working at the club and seemed jealous of the situation. More than once they had argued over the slightest thing, and often it was over Grant.

  Hank smiled and then wiped it away. He watched Grant sometimes, and Danny had nearly come unglued in the club when he’d noticed. The young server was graceful and beyond cute. But just because he watched a guy didn’t mean Hank was going to jump in the sack with him. There had certainly never been any reason for Danny to be jealous. But then again, a cheater saw a cheater in everyone else.

  “Let’s get finished up so we can all go home,” Bull announced, and Hank pulled his head back where it belonged and got back to work. Thankfully, he didn’t have much left to do, and by the time the others were done, he was finished as well. Then they all left the club, heading out into the wee hours of the morning.

  He made it home in one piece, pulled into his parking spot, and locked his car. He trudged up the stairs to his apartment and let himself into the tiny space, locking the door behind him.

  It was nothing special at all, just a place to live. When he and Danny split up, Hank had needed to move out fast, and he’d basically taken the first apartment he could afford—not that he’d had a whole lot of choices in his price range. There had been no way he was going to ask his mom or dad for help. He had made this mess on his own, and he needed to move on, living within his means.

  Hank went to the refrigerator, pulled out a quart of milk, and poured himself a glass. When he finished, he walked into the bathroom, showered, and then collapsed into bed, falling almost directly to sleep.

  WHEN GRANT woke again, it was to the sound of muffled voices through the floor. He groaned and pulled his covers over his head to drown out the noise of his parents’ bickering. It wasn’t that they didn’t love each other; they just didn’t
agree on a lot of things. And it always involved a clash of wills before they decided what to do. As a kid, it had driven him crazy sometimes. It had taken him a long time to realize that it was part of how they loved each other.

  “No, you do not get to be on top,” he heard his dad say, through his ceiling.

  “Can you keep it down? I’m still trying to sleep,” he called upstairs, and the noise instantly stopped. “Yes, thank you. I cannot unhear that now. I’m going to be scarred for life.” He rolled over, snickering for a second. But then he realized he wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep, no matter how comfy he was under these warm covers.

  As soon as his feet hit the Pergo flooring, he regretted his decision to get up. He groped around the edge of the bed for his slippers, pushed his feet into them, and shuffled across to the bathroom, where he shaved, showered, and brushed his teeth before returning to his room, bundled in a thick robe, and got dressed.

  “Crap,” Grant grumbled, fishing in the dirty clothes for the pants he’d worn last night and going through them. He’d tucked his tips in his pocket, but he’d learned early on that his mom would claim whatever money she found when she did the laundry. So he made it a point to be careful.

  When he straightened out the bills, he found a hundred. That must have been what Bull had given him. He put the cash in his wooden lockbox, then placed it under his boxers in the dresser. He got an hourly wage as well, but if at all possible, he lived off his tips so he could save the rest. He didn’t want to reside in his parents’ basement forever.

  Footsteps on the stairs outside caught his attention, and he started the coffeepot before sticking a slice of bread in the toaster. The sliding door opened, and his mom stepped inside.

  “How late did you work?” she asked as she came over.

  Grant offered her a stool as he stood, waiting for the coffee and toast. “I got home about three.” He blinked at the clock that read eleven in the morning. At least he’d gotten some sleep. When the toast popped, he buttered it and munched on a corner.