VIP Part 1

I push open the velvet curtain to the VIP lounge, each bottle clinking in my arms. The atmosphere hits me like a tidal wave—at least sixty men, all draped in sharp suits that probably cost more than my rent. They're everywhere: a handful at the dartboard, a cluster racking up shots at the pool table, a few hunched over poker hands, others gathered in tight circles, eyes glued to their screens or deep in hushed conversations. The air hums with bravado and expensive aftershave.

I slip behind the tiny bar tucked in the corner, claiming my territory. Even though most of these guys are just nursing their drinks and watching the action, I know I'll need help. I shoot off a desperate text: Kiki, get in here now. I need backup—seriously.

Before I can even cap my phone, a guy sidles up to the bar. He’s got that confident swagger, and his suit fits just right. “Madison, right?”

I nod. “That’s me.”

He grins. “Jake. Jake Jones.” There’s a soft southern drawl hiding in his words, warm and a little mischievous. His eyes—light brown, kind—hold mine for a second, and I feel my guard drop just a little. He’s easy on the eyes, too.

“What can I get you, Jake?”

“Something with bourbon. Or scotch. Dealer’s choice.”

I flash a smile, spinning the bottles in my hands like I’ve been doing this forever. “Coming right up. My twist on a Godfather—it’s a classic.”

He watches as I pour and stir, then takes a slow sip. His expression softens. “That’s really nice. Thank you, doll.”

He tosses a crisp twenty into my tip jar and starts to walk off. I call after him, waving the bill. “Hey, Jake! This is way too much. The drink’s only seven bucks—I can’t keep this!”

He just smirks and keeps walking. “I say you  keep it, and you will.”

I sigh, shaking my head as I drop it back in the jar. No response from Kiki yet; my phone stays stubbornly silent. I let out another sigh, frustration creeping in.

That’s when I hear it—a voice, low and rough, with a hint of something dangerous. “You might want to keep your eyes on the customers, not your phone.”

I jerk my head up, and—damn. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, with hair as dark as midnight and eyes so deep blue, they’re almost black. The kind of guy who could stop a room just by standing in it, and right now, he’s looking straight at me.

His hand grabs my phone. I protest, "Hey, what the hell. Give it back!"

"I'm curious as to what has you so captivated."

"I'm waiting on my backup," I say.

He opens my phone and starts looking through it. He smirks, "So it says. But it also looks like you're trying to pawn us off on your friend."

I huff, "I am not."

"You lie. You obviously are. What I'd like to know is why? What are you so afraid  of?"

At that moment, Kiki chooses to enter and chime in, "If she doesn't tell you, I will!"

I reply, "Girl, you do, and I'll kill you."

Kiki smiles and says, "You won't kill me. Maybe you won't talk to me for weeks, but you'll never kill me, especially for anything like that."

He's sitting back, clearly amused by our banter and watching me squirm. He smirks and asks, "So, are you telling or is she?"

I sigh, "Fine, if you must know, I don't do relationships because of controlling assholes like my ex. No one will ever own me! Plus, I have responsibilities like my grandmother. This isn't just a job for me, it's my livelihood. So I'd rather pawn men off on women that they might actually have a shot with. I'm off limits."

He asks Kiki, "So, why is your girlfriend so hellbent on being alone?"

Jake comes up and calls him Boss and informs him that some guys have arrived. The mystery man tells Jake he'll be there shortly. I look over at Kiki and raise my eyebrow. She's drooling over the men. Ugh, she's going to be no help in figuring out what is going on. He asks, "So, why?"

Kiki says, "Controlling assholes, even telling her how to dress, what to eat, and when she can hang with the ladies. Being alone means she will always be free.”

He says, "We will revisit this conversation in a bit."

He leaves to talk to yet more handsome men in suits who just walked in. I try to talk to Kiki, to get her to snap out of her cock-induced stupor.  I inform her of Jake calling him boss, the fact I don't have a name for him, and that he has my phone full of my private stuff, including stuff about my ex.

As we are talking and she's trying to console me that my private stuff isn't that bad, a new guy comes up. He introduces himself as Reed West. He is tall and refined. Not a hair is out of place on his handsome face, but he's troubled. There's a storm brewing in his eyes.

I ask him what I can get him. He says to surprise him, so I take this as my opportunity to use a skill Gran taught me. "So, answer this question: what is your ideal night? Lying under the stars, dancing in the rain, cuddling on the couch listening to the storm, or getting cozy while it snows?"

He furrows his eyebrows, "Now that's an odd question that no one has ever asked me before, but I'd go with the couch."

So I made him a Dark and Stormy with Guinness. I opted for it neat instead of on the rocks, because I've noticed that unless it's quite warm outside, men prefer their drinks neat rather than on the rocks. He takes a few sips. He chuckles, "Wow, very nice. Despite the odd question, you really nailed the drink."

"Thanks. How a person responds to a question says a lot about them, and from that you can deduce what drink to make."

"So what does this drink say about me?" He asked.

He leans in, eager to hear my answer. "Well, it says that there are two sides to you. On one hand, you like to keep to yourself. It suits your cold, calculating nature that the dark part of the drink exudes. The other side is at a crossroads because it yearns to be free of the past. There is literally a storm inside you. You'll either be consumed by it or weather it out. The choice is yours alone."

Mystery man comes up, "Well, she nailed you there, partner." The way he said it gave me pause, as it was very strained. Then the mystery guy slides me my phone and whispers into my ear: "You passed."