#9 The Lonely Rogue

Junie

I picked up another glass and wiped it clean, sitting it back on the shelf with the others. I nodded my head to the music that was blasting from my earbuds as I dried the glasses from last night’s rush. I was in my own little world when someone tapped me on the shoulder, making me jump out of my skin.

“Jesus, Viv, you scared the shit out of me.” I screeched, glaring at Vivian. I popped out one earbud so I could hear her.

“Sorry, Junie, but I was making noise the whole way through the bar. I have no idea how you didn’t hear me.” Viv laughed.

“What can I say? Cleaning the dishes is my jam.” I joked and Viv rolled her eyes at me.

“You need a life.” She huffed.

“What are you doing here so early?” I asked, sitting down another cup.

“Inventory. My parents are out of town and Marcus called in sick.” She said.

“Marcus always calls in sick. I don’t know why your parents don’t just give you the job.” I grumbled in annoyance.

“Because I like to leave before closing time.” She winked at me.

Vivian’s parents, Camille and Walter Ryan, owned one of the more exclusive clubs in Charleston’s french quarter; the Lion’s Den. After Viv and I graduated high school, we both got jobs working at the bar as dishwashers and bussing tables. The older we got, the better jobs we earned. Now that we were 21, Viv was a bartender and a waitress while I was one of the night managers.

Viv had the goods and the smarts to be anything she wanted, but not the desire. She’d rather use her position as a waitress to pick up hot guys and leave with them before last call.

“You could run this place one day, Viv.” I said, rolling my eyes at her.

“Maybe one day I will, but not today. I’ve got a lot of life left to live.” Viv laughed before disappearing behind the bar to inventory the liquor.

Two hours passed by, and it was time to get ready to open. The other bartenders, bus boys, waitresses, and bouncers started to trickle in so Viv and I took the opportunity to escape to my apartment and change. I lived above the bar in a small apartment I rented from Viv’s parents. Viv technically lived at home, but she spent more time in my spare bedroom than anywhere else.

There was a private entrance to my apartment both inside and outside of the bar. We bounced up the stairs inside the club that led to my apartment door, punching in the code on the padlock and pushing the door open. You only need some drunk moran to wander into your apartment one time before you add extra security precautions, trust me on that one.

“Girl, tonight’s gonna be a good night, I can feel it.” Viv yelled at me from the bathroom.

“You say that every night.” I scoffed, tearing off my clothes.

I traded my comfortable sports bra and cotton underwear for a black lace set. I pulled a short black skirt from my closet and my uniform shirt, a maroon v-neck t-shirt with the bar’s logo on the back and its name on the left breast. I pinned my golden name plate above the logo.

“It’s the first Saturday night of June in South Carolina. It’s summertime, baby!” Viv cheered and I couldn’t help but laugh at her carefree attitude.

“You’re going to end up pregnant or with a disease.” I mumbled to myself as I sat on the edge of my bed, pulling on a pair of sheer, black tights.

“I heard that.” Viv said, leaning against my door frame with her hands on her hips, “At least I have fun, Junebug.” She teased me.

“I have fun.” I argued, standing up.

“Sure.” Viv rolled her eyes, pressing her bright red lips together in a frown, “You look hot, though.” She shrugged, turning her back on me.

I stepped into a pair of black high heels and replaced Viv in the bathroom. I fluffed out my auburn colored curls, watching as they bounced around my shoulders. I admired my hair in the mirror, it laid just past my shoulders in a mess of tight brown ringlets with natural blonde highlights. Short, baby curls fell around my round face, my dark eyelashes batting against them.

I leaned over the sink and brushed on a light amount of natural colored eyeshadow and foundation, painting my lips with a glossy, nude lipstick. I blinked my sparkling hazel eyes at my reflection in the mirror and nodded to myself.

Vivian appeared behind me in the mirror, her shiny black hair laying straight down her back and her pale skin a sharp contrast to my caramel colored tone. Her bright green eyes were outlined with inky black massacre, smokey eyeshadow, and cherry-red lipstick.

“Two Greek goddesses.” Viv flopped her arm around my shoulders.

“Come on, we’ve got to get back down there before they destroy the place.” I smirked, referencing our hot mess co-workers down stairs.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Viv agreed, following me out of the bathroom.

Arm and arm, we walked back down to the bar, after I securely locked my apartment door behind us. The DJ was already here, blaring music over the obnoxious sound system. Lainey and Sophie were tying little black aprons around their waist, checking their pens and serving pads. Jackson and Karly were behind the bar, rearranging the alcohol bottles and checking the tap. Toonly, Clyde, and Buck were dressed in all black suits with ear pieces in and walkies on their hips as they huddled around one of the two entrances to the bar.

Of them, only Toonly, Clyde, and Sophie were werewolves, the others were clueless humans and I liked it that way.

“Who the hell did inventory? This place is a mess.” Jackson huffed in frustration. Viv glared at him and stomped over to the bar,

“That would be me, jackass.” She leveled him with her famous resting bitch face.

“Oh, well, in that case….” Jackson stammered.

“Here, let me get you a shovel to dig yourself out of that hole you just put yourself in.” Karly couldn’t contain her laughter. I shook my head at the trio and walked over to the two waitresses.

“Looking hot today, boss.” Sophie smiled her bubble gum pink lips at me. She had fake blonde hair and big blue eyes. She was pretty, but she hid it behind a pound and a half of makeup.

“As usual, of course.” Lainey was sweet, barely 18 and fresh out of high school. She had short, dirty blonde hair and brown eyes. She was slowly letting Sophie corrupt her wardrobe, though.

“Why don’t you two worry more about your jobs and less about kissing my ass.” I said.

A couple of hours later, the bar was crowded. Like most weekends, it was bumper to bumper traffic with hot, sweaty twenty-somethings grinding on the dance floor and drinking at the high top tables. As manager, I filled in wherever I was needed; waitress, bartender, security team, human resources, customer service, to name a few of my titles.

The longer the night went on, the drunker the crowd got, the less complaints there were and the more fights I needed the bouncers to break up. Luckily, our bar had a reputation for good bouncers, so the fights were usually far and few between. We had high end clients, richy rich types who came here to have casual business meetings or to let loose. We had good booze, modern music, attractive staff, and a dark, clean environment.

“Junebug! Someone’s asking for you upstairs at table twelve.” Viv yelled from where she was sitting on some random guy’s lap. I frowned at her. She was the only one who was allowed to call me that and I didn’t appreciate her advertising it to the entire bar.

I tossed the towel I was using to wipe down the bar over my shoulder and hurried around the bar, hopping up the short staircase to the second floor. The second floor was a loft with a tall, glass railing overlooking the ground floor. I weaved through the crowds to get to table twelve. That was one of our VIPs, a large booth with red velvet fabric covering the black wooden benches and table.

Sitting around the table were three men and two women. The men were dressed in thousand dollar suits and the girls had on tight, sparkly dresses that left little to the imagination.

“Good evening, I’m the manager. Can I help you?” I plastered on a fake smile as I greeted the table.

“We want your most expensive beverage.” One of the men said without so much as a greeting.

Yeesh, they were already drinking a bottle of bourbon that cost more than my monthly income.

“That would be a vintage bottle of wine the bar’s owners picked up in France a few years ago. It’s $675.” I answered politely.

“Good, we’ll take it, and some nice, clean glasses.” He pulled out his wallet and handed me a $50 bill, “Quickly, please.” He added. I mumbled a thanks and hurried back down the steps.

“Hey, Karly, table twelve wants clean wine glasses.” I mocked the rich guests and she smirked, rolling her eyes as she dug around for a couple of wine glasses.

I stuffed the $50 bill into our tip jar and went behind the bar for the fancy bottle of wine. I collected the glasses onto a serving tray with the wine and carefully walked back upstairs.

When I hit the loft, I caught a whiff of a recognizable smell: werewolf. I hadn’t noticed it before, my senses not exactly top notch. I sniffed the air and realized that the smell got stronger the closer to the VIPs I got. Of course, the richy rich were werewolves.

“Here you are.” I smiled again, setting the tray down on the table and handing over the glasses and the bottle.

“Thanks.” The man barely spared me a glance.

“Sure thing.” I grumbled before walking away.

Walking down the stairs for the hundredth time today, my heel got caught in one of the seams of the metal step and I stumbled. I gasped, my arms pinwheeling as I reached for the handrail. Instead, my hands latched onto something soft. My head snapped up and I realized that I was clinging to a man. I steadied myself and blushed, blinking up at the stranger.

“I’m sorry, I’m such a clutz,” I laughed nervously, “Thanks for the save.” I said.

The man didn’t return my smile. His face was stern and cold, his eyes regarding me carefully. But, oh, those eyes were something else. They were big pools of beautiful blue water.

Get a grip, Junie. I shook myself out of eye stalking a total stronger and straightened my back. As my hands moved against his arms, the friction caused sparks to shoot through my body. By the look on his face, he felt them too. His eyes widened and he quickly released me.

“Uhm, thanks again.” I mumbled, tucking a curl behind my ear. The man continued to stare at me.

“Okay.” I whispered and started to walk away. The man grabbed my arm, yanking me back. I gasped, glaring at his hand on me.

“Who are you?” He snapped, his voice as lifeless as his expression.

“The manager.” I replied.

“I meant your name.” He practically growled at me.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” I ripped my arm out of his hand and stomped away.

Once I was safely back downstairs at the bar, I turned around and scanned the crowd for the stranger. He was right where I left him, his intoxicating eyes still staring at me. I quickly fixed my shocked expression, narrowed my eyes on him and pressed my lips together in a frown. That’s when the door opened and a rush of warm, night air wafted through the bar.

I gasped, my lips parting in surprise as the most amazing aroma filled my nose. It smelt like cinnamon and apple spice, a warm, musky sensation. My mouth immediately started to water and I could practically feel myself becoming instantly turned on. The man’s eyes widened, smelling my arousal. He was a werewolf, his scent covered by the hundreds of sweaty humans and my weakened senses. More than that, he was my mate.