Player(24)

10





The Taste of Victory





Val

I scanned the Smalls Jazz Club as I took a drink a few nights later. “How about him?”

The guy standing at a high-top table near us was a tall drink of water with a nice smile. I was encouraged by my chances when I saw his spindly arms. It made him more approachable than most of the other guys at Smalls that night, who were as rich in the ’ceps as Sam was.

“Not him,” Sam said shortly.

I frowned at him. “Well, why not?”

“Because he’s an asshole. What about him?” He nodded to a guy at the bar, one with an apple pie, all-American football vibe going on. He was way out of my league.

I shook my head. “He’s too…” I shook my head again, not wanting to explain. “Not him.”

“You’re hot enough for him but okay.” He looked across the room, his eyes golden and hard as a hawk’s. “Okay, what about this guy?” He turned me to face the dance floor, leaning over my shoulder to bring his cheek close to mine. “That one, in the newsboy hat. He can jive, check him out. And you know they say a guy who can jive is great in the sack.”

I laughed, ignoring the zing of awareness at his hands on the tops of my arms or his face so near. “I dunno, Sam. He’s pretty…well, pretty.”

He turned me around again. “So are you. Look, he’s coming to the bar. Now’s your chance. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to pick up Newsboy and convince him to buy you a drink.”

I nodded, pumping myself up. “Okay. Easy. Eye contact. Smiles. Bite my lip. Laugh. Compliment him. I can do this.”

He held my shoulders like the coach from Rocky. “You can definitely do this.”

“I can do this!” I said again, slamming the end of my drink and straightening my spine. The whiskey and Coke slid down my esophagus, filling my belly full of warm anticipation.

“Go get ’em, tiger,” he said with a smirk.

And I turned to meet my fate.

Smile. Make eye contact. Don’t be weird.

I sidled up next to Newsboy at the bar and shifted to face him. He was handsome, strong nose and jaw, his forehead dotted with sweat from dancing. When he noticed me looking, he met my eyes—his were the most brilliant shade of blue and green.

“On a scale from one to America, how free are you tonight?” I asked.

A laugh burst out of him, and it was such a nice sound, I found myself smiling.

Good. Check that off. Eye contact, too. The weird part you just can’t help.

“What are you drinkin’, sweet cheeks?”

I wondered whether he was talking about the cheeks on my face or my ass and tried not to flinch. Instead, I kept that smile in place. “Maker’s and Coke.”

He leaned over the bar and whistled. “Two Maker’s and Coke, would ya?”

The bartender jerked his chin in acknowledgment.

He turned to face me, his smile affectatious. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Val,” I said, sticking out my hand.

Newsboy laughed and took it. “Ricky. I’ve never seen you here before.” He looked down at our hands as I pumped them. “Quite the grip you’ve got there.”

“Thanks!” I said proudly. “It’s my first time here.”

“Ah, poppin’ your cherry? Tell me you dance so I can die and go to heaven.”

My smile split wider, not because I actually liked him—he seemed like kind of a creep—but because it was working. “Oh, I love to dance. I’m just learning. I’m nowhere near as good as you are. I saw you out there…you were really something.” I touched his forearm that rested on the bar.

His hand slipped around my waist. “Boy, would I love to teach you a thing or two.”

Our drinks appeared on the bar in front of us, and I was thankful for something to do with my hands. More grateful he had something to do with his other than put them on me.

I shook off the feeling—like I’d turned a corner into a dark alley, alone—and was grateful Sam was watching.

“Cheers,” I said, holding up my drink, and he clinked his to mine.

“To cherries poppin’ and solid handshakes.”

The whiskey went down easier this time. Drink number three agreed with me. “So tell me, Ricky, what do you do for a living?”

“I’m a logistics consultant.”

I blinked. “Oh. Like, something with numbers?”

He chuckled. “I help improve customer service operations and develop cost-effective solutions for things like supply and distribution issues.”

I swear, I was looking at his mouth and listening with my entire brain and both ears, but I didn’t understand a word he’d said. “That sounds riveting.”

“It’s a veritable adrenaline mine, logistics consulting,” he joked. “So, who’s your friend giving me the hairy eyeball?”

He nodded over my shoulder, and when I looked behind me, Sam wore an unreadable expression.

“Oh, just a buddy of mine. Don’t worry—he’s totally gay.”

A short, loud laugh of surprise left him. “He doesn’t look too keen on you being over here with me.”