The Do-Over (The Miles High Club #4)(85)

He calls him again. “What if something’s happened to him?” He’s beginning to get frantic.

“Don’t worry . . . he’ll come.”





EDDIE

I stand in the alleyway, and from my spying spot I watch as Mr. Christo and Miss Hazen wait for me across the road in front of the hostel.

They’re here to say goodbye . . . and I want to go over.

But . . . I can’t.

I watch as Christo dials a number on his phone, and my phone vibrates again, the name lighting up on my screen.

Christo

My heart sinks, and I put it back into my pocket.

I watch as Christo paces and rants and raves as Hazen talks calmly to him.

With every moment that they wait, it gets worse. I want to run across the road and beg them not to leave.

But I know they will anyway . . . so what’s the point?

A cab pulls up, and Christo stares up the street to where I usually come from, and I get a lump in my throat. Through tears I watch him put their backpacks into the trunk.

Don’t go.

With one last look up the road, he finally gets into the cab, and it pulls out and drives away.

I drop my head . . . they’re gone.





One month later

Amsterdam





HAYDEN


Sightseeing by day, partying at work by night.

I’d always heard about Amsterdam. Everyone said it is the one place that you have to experience at least once in your lifetime. I imagined drug cafés and sex workers, high-as-a-kite people walking around being idiots in the streets.

What I didn’t expect was that it would be a culturally diverse, beautiful city.

Long canals that have these beautiful little bridges over them, twinkle lights that line the streets at night, beautiful restaurants, and the eclectic sound of laughter in the distance.

Christopher and I do love a chocolate brownie with magical ingredients and many a night get the giggles on our way home. This is such a fun place, and not one bit frightening like I imagined.

And the bicycles . . . I never expected to see so many.

People don’t drive in Amsterdam; they ride their bikes everywhere. So in front of every restaurant and club and shopping district are rows and rows of beautiful old-fashioned bikes, chained up in stands, the ones with little cane baskets attached to the front.

It’s so cool, and when you walk down the street, you don’t hear cars; you hear bicycle bells as people warn you they are coming fast.

It’s the little things about traveling, the idiosyncrasies that make each place different.

Never in a million years did I imagine that I would associate cute old-fashioned bikes with Amsterdam, but I know that I always will.

I walk around the tables and collect glasses with Basil. “This is the worst fucking job we ever had.” He rolls his eyes.

I giggle. “Will you look at us?”

Who would have ever thought that I would work in a place like this? Christopher has changed my outlook on life. Nothing is off limits anymore.

I feel liberated and sexually confident like never before.

We’re working in a nightclub in Amsterdam. There are live sex shows on stage for ten minutes every hour, and we’re scantily dressed. I’m in a short French maid outfit complete with suspender stockings and a long dark wig, and Basil is wearing black suit pants and a bow tie.

This place is hilarious, and the things we’ve seen would curl your hair.

Basil and I are the official glass collectors. Kimberly and Bernadette are in the kitchen, and Bodie and Christopher are behind the bar.

“Will you look at those two fucking wankers.” Basil curls his lip in disgust as he looks over to the bar.

Christopher is wearing black suit pants and a black bow tie, completely shirtless and a ball of rippled muscle. His dark hair is a little longer, with a curl to it, and he looks utterly gorgeous.

I smile as I watch him. He’s working the bar like a pro. Laughing and joking with the customers, shaking his cocktail shaker in the air as he and Bodie joke around.

He’s having the time of his life in this job.

A song that he loves starts, “Edamame,” by bbno$, and he starts to dance as he works; the female customers are lined up at the bar, enjoying the show . . . and I don’t mean on the stage.

I giggle as I watch them play off each other. “Hot wankers, though.”

“I’m so doing a bar course.” Basil sighs.

“You should.”

I keep collecting glasses and walk over past the bar. “Hayden,” Christopher yells across the crowd. I glance up, and he waves me over. He introduces me to a man sitting at the bar. “This is Mr. Escott.”

“Hello.” I smile.

“He’s offered a job on a luxury yacht in the Greek islands.” He keeps serving people.

“Oh.” My eyes widen. “Great.”

“All of us.” Christopher smiles excitedly.

My eyes flick to Mr. Escott. “The six of us?” I confirm.

“Yes, I need this energy on my fleet.” He gestures to Christopher, who is laughing out loud. He shakes a cocktail shaker for three women. His arm and stomach muscles are flexing as he shakes it. The women are all smiling goofily as they watch.

“That’s a whole lot of energy right there,” I agree.