Joshua
Business is slow at the restaurant. Today is the top of the week, two hours to close, and I'm standing behind a bar shaded by neon blue lights. It's Jack's first night open since Noah got jumped, and whether it's because it's Monday or the rumors of the shooting, the place is dead.
I haven't had to do much other than pop the tops off a couple beers and make change a few times. That may be a good thing, since I don't know dick about bartending. Right now, it takes everything I have not to fidget. I'm not used to being confined to a small space, surrounded by glass bottles that more or less look the same. The blue light is still nice, even from this side of the bar, but this wasn't what I had in mind in assuming the role of the diplomat.
It took me halfway through this day to realize that when Maria said Jack might need help that I could literally help him keep his books. She sent me, the son of a banker, the one who had followed in his father's footsteps until his arrest.
I know numbers, know the right columns and decimals. Without ever having to ask, I know that Noah is the math kid and Jack is the creative kid. I've always known that Maria is smart, but still I'm impressed with her directive – as much as I hate it.
I hate it because I hate numbers. I hate it because it made my dad a cold, greedy bastard.
I hate it because she's so far from me with only Izzy to protect her, and maybe I hate it that she was right.
I've never had a real job, just a lot of school. Somehow this is not what I imagined.
I'm staring at two men boxing on the TV screen when movement in front of me catches my attention. It takes me a moment to swim out of my introspection, and to register the blonde female who has just sat down. She makes an easy smile that knocks my thoughts off-kilter.
“Hi,” she says when I don't.
“Uh, hi.”
She laughs, and my brain finally tells me what a dipshit I'm being. Time to flip the switch before I completely burn. I let her laughter ring out for a moment before I crack a half smile, that innocent grin that always gets the first hit. I shove my hands in my pockets and shrug.
Her smile softens and she says, “I'm Eva.”
Nailed it.
She's wearing a low-cut black tank top that begs me to look, a nice curve, green eyes, dark red lips. I don't make it past those eyes. When I don't answer, she continues. “I wanted to introduce myself earlier, but you seemed scared.”
Scared? Some choice words race from my brain to my mouth, but I shut it down. Now is not the time. I'm just a friend of Jack's, helping him out. Cute and dumb will do.
“Earlier?” I say.
She giggles, and there go her eyes softening to me just a little more. I learned at a young age that girls will pity a stupid boy, take him under their wings and fuss over him.
She says, “I work here. I just got cut.”
I widen my eyes, glance away. Even I am surprised at the shame I can fake. I say, “Wow, I'm so sorry. You look…I didn't recognize you.”
Her smile shortens. “That's what they all say.”
Shit, change of direction. I lost that round. Not too much too fast. Stupid, basic. “I'm Joshua.”
Her eyes flick back to me, warming a shade. I learned it from Maria to own my name. I could be Josh – any idiot douche bag on any university campus. But to be Joshua, well, that carries a little more weight. I figured it out the first time she didn't shorten it, because when she says my name it's like a command.
Meanwhile, Eva gives me a smirk, amusement at my seeming ineptness. So I give her a real smile, full-fledged, dimples and teeth, and say, “What can I get you?”
“Long Island.”
Shit. I've had a Long Island before, wasn't a fan. Why can't she just drink a damn beer like everyone else?
“Right. Uh,” I say as I scan the bottles close to me.
She's eyeballing me with that smirk, behind which I do believe there's suspicion. Am I for real? If I were that stupid boy, I never would have caught it, but Charlie trained me up because I'm good at reading people. It could be that she's on to me.
She breaks the tension when she says, “You have no idea what you're doing, do you?”
The laugh that answers her is a real one. I do like a girl who will call me on my bullshit. I flash the smile again.
“You caught me.”
She laughs, a genuine sound as well, and she shakes her head. She stands up on the foot railing and leans forward across the bar. Some wisps of hair fall into her eyes, which she lifts to meet mine. Her smile changes, so subtle, to something more seductive. She says, “I'll show you.”
The dip in the pitch of her voice along with the perfect downward view of her tits nearly makes me hard. She's good. Something about the way she's smiling at me makes me think she likes the game – the hunt.
I let my smile creep into close-lipped amusement. It's been a while since Charlie and I used to hit up the bars on Decatur, find one that was happening, and become the life of the party. The two of us, charmers to the max, were always the crowd pleasers. It was rare that we didn't have our picks of which girls would continue a more private party after hours. It's been a while since I laid it on.
Eva grabs a glass from the stack and hands it to me. She says, “Ice. Full.”
Her eyes follow my hands as I obey. I hold the smirk as I do. Might as well put
