Page 100 of Toxic Wishes
I run a hand through my hair as this foreign feeling settles in my stomach, which seems to be doing a lot ever since she started this job. “Okay, well, let me see if I can get my mom to watch Bodie for a few hours, and then I’ll meet you up there.”
It takes me about twenty minutes to get to Shifters. It would have taken longer if I hadn’t sped a little bit. I found a parking space around the corner, not too far. I hear the music from inside as soon as I step out of my car. It reminds me of the nights I spent partying after we won a big game or my younger college years when it was pretty much every week.
I’ve calmed down a lot as I’ve approached my thirties.
The drive over here, I was hoping that Troy was making this whole lingerie, wet t-shirt thing up. The thought of all these losers looking at Abigail made me want to punch someone, and I was too old to be getting into fistfights. I take a deep breath and pull the door open. I nearly wince at the noise. Addicted to love screeches through speakers. And high-top round tables are packed with customers. The bar is filled, not a single stool vacant, and I look around, seeing the booths are all filled as well. A few women stand in line for the bathroom, standers surround the pool table, and the air is charged. I nod slightly at a girl who has been eyeing me down since the second I walked in here, and I already feel uncomfortable. This is why I hated going out. I got enough attention from the press. I didn’t need any when I was home. I look around until my gaze finally falls on Abigail. She stands at the jukebox, flipping through the pages and scanning the playlist through the glass. The crowd is thick, but I see the back of her head. I’d recognize that curly hair anywhere. My shoulders relax a little.
At least no one is bugging her. She’s fine. I move through the people to get to Troy and the guys, but then I see Abigail leave the music machine and make her way back to the bar, and that’s when I catch a glimpse of her and see all the men staring at her as she walks back.
My eyes flare. Reminding me how snug her skirt is, fitting the curves of her heart-shaped ass perfectly, and is it just me, or does it look like her boobs are about to pop out of her corset. It’s a hard top shimmering and laced up to the front with a heart-shaped bodice and demure-looking little ruffles along the bottom. My eyes fall down her cleavage. My head is spinning with images of what will spill out when she unlaces that top tonight. The corset doesn’t even reach the top of her skirt but stops just above her hips, her trim waist and tummy drawing attention from every man she passes. The laces look tight, giving her a rock-hard hourglass look just begging for a man's hands. I fist mine at my sides. The skin of bare shoulders. Her voluminous curly hair fell down her back. The sway of her hips as she walks. I tear my eyes away before I’m caught.
She makes her way behind the bar again. I ignore the self-satisfied smiles from the men in the room as they follow her with their eyes and try not to wonder what their hushed whispers tell each other. A hand waves in the corner of my vision, and I glare up at Troy sitting with the guys at a booth.
I walk over.
“I didn’t know Josh’s little friend worked here,” Troy says as we do our customary fist bump handshake.
“Ya,” I say, releasing my hand from his.
“Jenna told me that Naomi told her you two were living together?” He tips his chin in the direction of the bar.
Word travels fast.
“Ya, my pipe busted, flooding my kitchen when Bodie and I were away at Disney World, so we are staying at the lake house while it’s getting fixed.” “Man, it must be hard not to tap that. Or have you already?” Troy asks, throwing a swig of his beer back.
“No, I haven’t, nor do I intend to.” Troy has his drink inches away from his lips and eyes me briefly before taking another swig.
“So, what’s up with this lingerie show? Is this an everyday thing, or how often do they do this kind of thing here?” I try not to sound concerned, even though my stomach turns in knots as we speak.
“They have it every other Thursday night. The bartenders and servers wear nighties or corsets and serve drinks and food. It’s fun.”
No, not really. But I look around and see a few other ladies carrying out drinks and appetizers. Some of them were in very thin attire. At least Abigail's corset looks as thick as armor.
“Why? You planning on coming in here every Thursday now?” Troy smirks.
“No, why would you think that?” I grab a beer out of the ice bucket.
“Oh, no reason,” he turns away, mumbling into his glass, “You seem like you could care less.”
I shoot him a sideways look, hearing the laughter in his words. Sticking the beer back in the bucket, untouched, I head to the bar.
“You not drinking tonight?” Troy asks. “Don’t tell me you already had your cheat day.”
“No, I’m going to get something stronger.”
I hear a snort behind me as I walk off, but I don’t care. I know she’s not my responsibility, but I don’t want her doing things like this because she thinks she needs money or, worse, she has no one to turn to when she needs money. From what I can see, there’s only one other bartender than Abigail. I catch Abigail's attention as she pops the tops from a line of five beer bottles.
“So this explains why you left the house in underwear.” I lean in, speaking as quietly as I can. She jerks her head towards me. She meets my eyes and quickly turns away again like I'm the last person she wants to deal with. She hands over the beers, collects the cash, and spins around, punching the screen in front of her.
“It’s just a corset, Colt. Girls here are wearing way less. I’m sure you noticed.” The way she says the last part of the sentence makes me feel like I come here all the time, and I’m some dirty guy trying to pick up some floozy to get my dick sucked, which I don’t appreciate. Ya, sure, she walked in on me fucking Heidit, But ever since then, I haven’t even touched a girl or even thought about bringing one around.
“You want everyone looking at you like a piece of meat?”
She looks over her shoulder briefly. “Isn’t that the point?”
“Abigail,” I whisper as I squeeze around some older dude at the end of the bar. “This is a small town; what if your dad comes in here?”
“He would never come in here.” She says, closing the register door and finally looking at me. “And I didn’t think you did either.” A blush crosses her cheeks. “Besides, I’m not dumb. I wouldn’t take part in something I thought would humiliate me.” She turns and hands the change back to the customer, but he waves her off, letting her keep it. She smiles and turns around, dropping the bills in an already-flowing tip jar.