Page 53 of Dirty Like Dylan
I quickly discovered, from chatting a little with Katie and Maggie, that Katie was married to Dirty’s lead guitarist. Yet she seemed so… well, normal.
“Should I be here?” I asked her as she poured up a few bourbons for her husband and some other guys, and I popped open some beers for the biker-looking dudes in the corner. “Please, you can tell me. If it’s weird, I can just leave.”
She threw me a curious glance. “What do you mean? You’re the new girl, right?” She gave me a smile and Maggie handed me another cocktail.
“Don’t worry, we’ve got you,” Maggie said. “Just have some fun.”
I sipped gratefully. It was a paralyzer, and the Coke-and-cream mixture probably wasn’t gonna sit too well with the melontinis, but oh well. It was fucking delicious. “Um. What new girl?”
“You know… Dylan’s… and Ash’s…” Katie blushed as she trailed off.
Dylan’s and Ash’s what? I wondered.
“Ashley is an asshole,” I said bluntly. “Sorry if he’s your friend, but he’s definitely not mine.” Oops. Filter.
Katie and Maggie exchanged a look. Amused, maybe?
“Oh.” Katie didn’t seem to know what else to say to that.
“I’m just gonna run these drinks out,” Maggie announced, departing with a full tray.
Damn. Had I just put my giant foot in my mouth again?
I tried to change the subject, asking Katie what else we could make. It was an open bar with no real bartender; Katie and Maggie had said they were just making drinks because they felt like it. Anyone was welcome to come up and pour. But we kept passing the drinks out, at the ready. Katie seemed to know what everyone liked.
I helped her whip up a blender full of margaritas, garnishing them with strawberries and lime slices. I was pretty good at this assistant bartender gig. Especially when I kept sipping my own drink all along the way.
“I hate margaritas,” Katie informed me as the smell hit her. “Tequila.” She made a barfing gesture. “But Ash and Summer like them, so…”
“Summer?”
“Babe over there, on the music.”
I looked where she pointed. The DJ. The one Ashley was now talking to. He was standing in her booth with her.
“Elle likes them too, so we’ll make some virgin ones…”
“What?” I was distracted, watching as Summer put her hand on Ashley’s bare forearm while they spoke.
He was smiling. It was the first time I’d seen a smile on his face.
Ever.
It totally transformed him, taking him from gorgeous to blindingly-gorgeous.
Jesus.
“Virgin margaritas,” Katie was saying. “Because Elle’s pregnant.”
“Oh.” I helped her make the mocktails, and put out more bottled water in the tub of ice by the bar—apparently Zane didn’t drink, and neither did the on-duty security guys—while I tried to sort out who was who. “I thought Elle was blonde,” I said, looking from the platinum blonde I was pretty damn sure was Dirty’s bassist to the visibly pregnant brunette on the other side of the room. I was really trying to keep up, but my booze buzz and the lingering nerves weren’t helping.
“Elle is blonde. That’s her, there.” She gestured at the platinum blonde.
“Who’s that, then?” I asked, pointing out the woman with the giant baby belly.
“Come on,” Katie said with a smile, drawing me out from behind the bar. “Let me get you oriented. You really need the lay of the land.”
“Okay.” I grabbed my drink and followed her. “How well do you know Con?” I asked her, when I noticed him in the corner with the biker guys, looking over at me.