Betting on Love Page 5

  Alex wore a slim-fitting black top with short cap sleeves, tucked into dark, snug jeans. Her hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and it hung to the middle of her back. She turned, and her gaze went straight to Elly. Her smile widened and she sauntered over.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” she purred, leaning over the bar to stroke a finger down Elly’s arm.

  “Hey.” Elly felt her cheeks heat and her gaze flitted down to Alex’s hand where it rested on the bar, then back up. She licked her lips. “Thought I should come on a non-karaoke night too.”

  “It’s a little less crazy,” Alex agreed. “What can I get you to drink? A vodka cran?”

  “How about a screwdriver?” Elly suggested.

  “That drink’s almost healthy,” Alex teased, tweaking one of Elly’s curls.

  “Almost.” Elly returned Alex’s smile, watching as she grabbed a shot glass and measured the vodka over a glass half-full of ice. Though she reached the top, she kept pouring, letting an extra quarter ounce trickle into the glass before she dumped the shot glass’s contents. She poured orange juice over the top, filling the glass to the brim, then stuck a straw in it and set it in front of Elly.

  “That one’s on me,” she said.

  Elly hooked her fingers around the stem of the glass and pulled it toward her, bending to sip from the straw. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I am,” Alex replied.

  “Oy, Alex, where’s that Caesar I needed?” A dark-haired waiter, his white shirt rumpled, leaned over the pass-through from the restaurant side.

  “Coming,” Alex called, taking a pint glass from the rack and dipping it in the celery salt, adding ice, vodka, and several dashes of Tabasco and Worcestershire sauce before adding Clamato and a stalk of celery. She took it over and the waiter set it on his tray.

  “Thanks, love,” he said, much mollified, before he hurried away.

  Alex came back to the bar, but before she could say anything more to Elly, her chit machine printed up two new orders. She gave Elly an apologetic smile and went to work. Elly watched her move behind the bar, reaching for glasses, popping the caps off bottles of beer, pouring drinks. She made it seem easy, moving with precision, without wasting time or movement. The lounge filled, and a second bartender came behind the bar. Elly recognized him from the night before.

  “Hey there,” Eric said as he spotted her. “You’re back.” He gave her a friendly grin.

  “I’m back,” Elly echoed.

  “Busy night, Alex?” Eric asked her.

  “It has been,” Alex replied as she stopped long enough to hold a small pitcher under the tap. “Looking to be a busy Saturday, as always.”

  “Good. I need the money,” Eric quipped.

  With the pair of them behind the bar, the orders went more smoothly and the plates of food passed through from the kitchen found their intended recipients more quickly. Elly was entertained watching them, though her gaze occasionally flicked up to the television hung behind the bar. It didn’t hold her attention for long; she’d never been interested in Formula 1, or any kind of motor races. At the diner back home, it’d been football in the summer and hockey in the winter, with baseball thrown in and little else.

  A woman plopped down on the seat next to her with a sigh, dropping her black apron on the bar, where it clattered on the wood. A few coins rolled from one of the pouches. “Sorry,” she said, sliding the coins back toward her with her hand.

  “No problem,” Elly replied.

  The woman wiped her forehead, pushing her curly dark hair back where it was coming loose from its ponytail. Her hands were slender, and her eyes were dark and almond shaped under finely plucked brows, which furrowed as she pulled out a thick handful of receipts.

  “Charity, my favorite girl.” Eric leaned on the bar. “What can I get you, darling?”

  “Jack Daniel’s, straight up,” Charity said. “It’s been a hell of a busy shift.”

  “Coming right up. Elly, don’t mind Charity. She’s happier once she’s had a drink. She’s more…charitable.”

  Charity glanced over, rolling her eyes. “He speaks the truth, even if he makes stupid jokes. Sometimes I wish my parents had stuck with an Asian name.” She held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too. I’m Elly.” Elly shook her hand.

  “You going to work here?” Charity asked, pulling a roll of bills from her apron next and counting them out on the bar.

  “Just here for a drink, to see Alex,” Elly said.

  “Oh. Cool.” Charity kept counting, murmuring numbers under her breath. She took out a pen and made a notation on the top receipt. Then she stuffed the bills back in her apron and took out the handful of coins that had made the clatter. “Lucky you. She’s the most popular bartender here. Except for Eric, of course, who is more my style, being a man and all.”

  “Have you worked here long?” Elly asked, though Charity’s words had distracted her. Just how popular was Alex? She glanced over, spotting Alex at the other end of the bar, leaning against it as she chatted to a woman who had been there last night. They laughed, and the woman touched Alex on the arm, a casual, flirty touch. Alex leaned in, smiling.

  Elly tore her gaze away, taking another sip of her drink instead.

  “Been here longer than I’d like to admit,” Charity said once she’d finished counting her change. She organized her receipts. “But it’s fun sometimes. Just not today. Some tour bus of old people showed up, and I was run off my feet. None of them could manage to order refills at the same time. And then the tip…barely fifteen percent.” Charity shook her head. “And I still have to tip out to the kitchen.”

  “That’s awful,” Elly said. She’d never had that happen to her, but she knew what it was like to not get a decent tip. “There isn’t an enforced gratuity on those kind of groups?”

  “Not here,” Charity replied. “I wish. Hey, do you work in a restaurant too?”

  “I did,” she said, “back home. But I’m a graphic artist, and looking for work at the moment.”

  “Good luck. I wish I could work in my major,” Charity said, writing down another number on her paper. She totted up her receipts and sighed. “The kitchen’s going to love me tonight.” She took out the bills again and counted out a small pile.

  “What did you take?” Elly finished her drink, sucking the last bit of orange juice from the ice cubes. She pushed the glass back a bit.

  “Kinesiology,” Charity replied. “But I still have to do my teacher’s degree if I want to get anywhere with it, or spend my life taping ankles.” She rose to her feet. “Save my spot, I’ll be back.” She hurried off, back into the restaurant side, with her money.

  “Another?” Eric asked, gesturing to Elly’s empty glass.

  “I suppose one more wouldn’t hurt,” Elly said. “It’s a screwdriver.”

  “Sure thing.” Eric dumped the ice into the sink and put the glass in the dishwasher. “You want to look at a menu too?”

  At the mention of food, Elly’s stomach growled. “I should. That way I can drive home later.”

  Eric handed her a laminated menu and then set to work making her drink. Elly scanned the list. It was pretty standard pub fare: fries, loaded potato skins, nachos, pizza, hamburgers.

  He set the drink in front of her. “What do you think?”

  “Potato skins?”

  “Good choice.” Eric took the menu. “Hard for the kitchen to mess that one up. Extra sour cream?”

  “Sure. Does the kitchen always mess up orders?”

  Eric winked. “Not too much.” He went to key in her order and she took a sip of her new drink.

  “Having fun?” A familiar husky voice spoke, warm breath brushing over her ear. Elly turned, coming face-to-face with Alex.

  “I didn’t think it’d be so busy,” she replied. Alex slid an arm over the back of the stool, resting against Elly’s shoulders, leaning in for a kiss.

  “It’s Saturday,” Alex said. “But I’ll be off in a fe
w hours, if you want to wait.” She winked.

  “I’ll wait,” Elly said.

  Alex grinned and leaned in for another kiss. This one was more, Alex’s lips pressing insistently against hers, her tongue teasing the seam of Elly’s lips until she parted them. The touch was a balm, taking away last night’s sting.

  “Mmm. I can’t wait.” Alex kissed her again quickly, then started away. She cleared glasses from a table nearby and carried them back behind the bar.

  Elly watched Formula 1 while she waited, but auto racing bored her. Eric slid a plate of potato skins in front of her, and she was glad of something to keep her occupied. As she was biting into the first one, Charity returned, carrying a black PVC jacket. She’d changed out of her work clothes and wore a slinky black sleeveless dress that showed off the delicate flower tattoos that wrapped her upper arms.

  Eric whistled. “Gorgeous, Char. Got a date?”

  “A hot one,” Charity confirmed, settling onto the chair next to Elly.

  “Who’s the lucky guy?”

  “You don’t know him.” Charity blew him a raspberry, then tossed back her drink. “He’s a babe.”

  “Where are you going on your date?” Elly asked.

  “He’s taking me to a club. Then back to his place for some party time.” Charity grinned.

  “Sounds fun.”

  “Be careful, Char,” Eric chided. “Vicious was raided by the cops a couple of weeks ago.”

  “They’ve cleaned up the place since then,” Charity said. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.” She pulled a bill from her purse and held it out. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Char.” Eric took the bill and tucked it into his pocket. “Have a good one.”

  “Have a good night,” Elly said.

  “Nice to meet you.” Charity rested a hand on Elly’s shoulder. “Enjoy yourself.” She squeezed gently, then let go, sliding off the chair. In another moment, she was gone.

  Elly ate her dinner and finished her drink, turning down a third from Eric, changing to water. She’d have to drive, after all. Though Alex occasionally smiled or winked at her, it was too busy for them to have a conversation, and Alex lingered at her tables. Formula 1 racing ended, and the sports highlights show began, and it held her attention even less than the cars did. She supposed she could try to talk to some of the others in the bar, but everyone seemed to be in their own little groups, and it wasn’t like home, where she knew everyone. She felt uncomfortably alone. Maybe she should just go home. She looked for Eric, to pay her bill.

  “I’ll be another hour or so.” Alex paused on her way to a table. “You’re not leaving yet, are you?”

  “Well…” Elly wavered.

  “Wait for me?” Alex asked. “I’ll beg Eric to let me go early.”

  “All right.” Now that Alex was here beside her, things didn’t seem so lonely.

  “Good.” Alex kissed her cheek, then hurried to the table.

  “Getting impatient?” Eric teased, leaning over to grab her empty plate.

  She willed herself not to blush. “Just a bit bored. Is there anything else on TV?”

  Eric shrugged and picked up the remote. “What do you want to watch? We keep it mostly on sports, or people get fussy.”

  “There’s MotoGP on that one satellite channel,” a familiar voice said. “That’s better than the crap you’ve got on now, by far.”

  Will plopped down into the chair next to Elly. “Hey, stranger,” he said. “Back again?”

  “Hey.” Elly smiled. Finally, a familiar face. Sort of. “I thought I should see what Parry’s is like without the karaoke.”

  “Less frightening?” Will quipped. He stood up on the rungs of his chair and waved at Alex. “Oy! Bellerose!”

  Alex stood on the far side of the lounge, near the window, talking to a customer, but she turned and laughed as she saw Will. Elly saw her shake her head, and she moved back toward the bar.

  “Don’t have a home to go to, poor baby?” Alex teased when she got nearer.

  “Where else would I go? Besides”—Will gestured at the television, now showing motorcycle racing—“the MotoGP’s in Argentina. I couldn’t miss it.”

  Alex turned to watch, and Elly sank back into her chair. Next to Will, and the apparent fascination of the racing, she felt nearly invisible.

  “Rossi’s going to beat the lot of them,” Will said.

  “You’re just saying that because you’re Rossi obsessed,” Alex replied. “Marquez is still better.”

  Will snorted. “So you think.” He turned to Elly. “Who do you think’s better, Rossi or Marquez?”

  Elly couldn’t think of anything to say; she had no idea whatsoever about either racer. It’d be like asking her to choose whether Dom Pérignon or Veuve Clicquot was the best champagne; she’d never tried either. She shrugged, looking to Alex for help.

  “She doesn’t watch MotoGP,” Alex told him. “We’ll just agree to disagree.”

  “If Rossi wins this one, you pay for lunch next time we ride. Deal?”

  Alex rolled her eyes. “Marquez will beat him, but if you want to bet on it, you’re on. I can’t wait for you to buy me lunch.”

  “And you,” Will turned to Elly, and she tried not to squirm under his gaze, “will watch MotoGP with me and learn.”

  “I’ve never watched it, ever,” Elly said.

  “Then there’s no better time to start.” Will reeled off names and statistics and Elly’s head swam. Alex went back to work, answering a wave from a customer, leaving her to Will’s teaching. She tried to keep up, but none of the names meant anything to her. Instead of trying to keep track of Will’s excess of information, she kept her eyes on the television, watching the riders speed around the track.

  “Argentina’s awesome,” Will said, leaning closer, “but it’s Laguna Seca that’s the best track of the whole MotoGP, in my opinion.” He continued talking, and by the time Alex had her jacket and had come around the bar to join them, Elly thought she might not do too badly at a pub quiz on motorcycle racing, as long as she didn’t have to name any bike models.

  “Ready to go?” she asked, slinging an arm over Elly’s shoulder.

  “Just let me pay my bill.” Elly reached into her purse for her wallet, looking at the receipt Eric had set facedown on the bar. She pulled out a couple of bills and some change and set it on top of the receipt.

  “Where you two headed?” Will asked.

  Elly glanced at Alex, who shrugged and said, “Probably my place. Or maybe Elly’s. Just us, though.”

  “Thought as much. Don’t stay up too late, girls.”

  “Yes, Mommy,” Alex retorted.

  Elly put her wallet back in her purse and pushed back from the bar as Alex put her jacket on. Slipping her own jacket on, Elly followed Alex out of the lounge and into the cool night air.

  “My place?” Alex asked.

  “Or mine, if you’d like,” Elly replied. Her bedsheets were clean, and she’d tidied up a bit before she’d come. The apartment, small as it was, would pass muster.

  “I’d like to see yours. I’ll follow you on the bike.”

  They parted and Elly slid into the driver’s seat, starting the car and waiting as Alex put on her protective gear and got on the bike. When Alex was ready, she pulled out of the parking lot, heading back home, glancing at her rearview mirror, seeing the bike following her, the green panels occasionally glinting in the streetlights.

  At the next red light, Alex pulled up beside her and revved the engine. Elly shook her head, giving a slight laugh. Alex couldn’t possibly think she’d dare to race, did she? Crazy. The light turned green, and Alex sped ahead, slowing only once she was several car lengths in front. At the next light, she tucked back in behind the sedan. Elly led the way home, but by the time she found a parking spot near her place, Alex had already pulled in and put down the kickstand and was pulling off her helmet.

  They met on the front sidewalk. “In a rush?” Elly asked, trying not to sound like
a stick-in-the-mud.

  “With you, always,” Alex replied, leaning in for a kiss. “There’s no time to waste.”

  Elly dug out her keys and let them in the front door, wincing as it slammed behind them. It was late and the building was quiet; she hoped they hadn’t woken anyone. It was a short flight up to her door and she let Alex go in first, coming behind and easing the door closed with barely a click.

  “Nice place.” Alex set her helmet on the wobbly dining table and toed off her boots.

  Elly wasn’t sure if she was joking or being serious. The apartment was nearly bare; over the past month she’d managed to bring a few things from home, but it still didn’t feel lived in. More like a way station. “It was the best I could find on short notice.”

  “They’re hard to come by. Still job hunting?”

  Alex turned back toward her and Elly grimaced. “Yeah.” She set her purse by the door and hung her jacket off the knob. The failure of it stung, even though rationally she knew she hadn’t been trying very long. “But I don’t really want to talk about it.”

  Alex caught her hand. “Then let’s not talk.” She tugged and they came together in the tiny hallway, Elly catching the lapel of Alex’s leather jacket to maintain her balance. Their first kiss was slow, almost luxuriously so, given Alex’s earlier desire for speed, but it didn’t stay that way. Alex pressed closer and Elly found herself stepping back, her shoulders hitting the wall as Alex deepened the kiss, cupping her cheek, Alex’s thumb stroking over her jawline.

  The touch sent a quiver through Elly’s body and she was glad for the security of the wall when her knees weakened. She’d never felt this way with anyone, this consuming desire and need.

  When they came up for air, Alex cocked her head to the left. “Bedroom there?”

  “Yes,” Elly managed breathlessly.

  They half walked, half stumbled down the hallway and Alex pushed open the door. For a split second, Elly saw her room as Alex might: old-fashioned, the worn quilt and old bedstead nothing like Alex’s own minimalist room. But then it didn’t matter. Alex let her jacket drop to the floor, its zippers and buckles clanking on the hardwood, and Elly wanted her to lose the rest of her clothes, starting with the slim-fitting black uniform shirt with the Parry’s logo in green on the left breast. She caught at the hem and lifted, and Alex obligingly raised her arms, letting Elly tug it up and off. Her skin was pale against the black lace of her bra and Elly undid the hook at the back and pushed it down her arms. Reddened half-moons marked where the underwire had pressed against her skin and Elly bent, gently kissing the spot between Alex’s breasts, caressing the undersides of her breasts as she did.