“I have to attend to some business,” he answered, gaze firmly directed toward the pavement.
It was then that I noticed how labored his breathing was. He practically huffed at me. And the look seeping out through his eyes spoke of either pain or anger. Maybe both.
“This is your business, Abram,” I said, planting my fists on my hips. “We open the doors in just a few hours. You have to be here.”
“I have other things to consider.” He clutched at his gut, folding into himself just a little.
“Are you okay?” I asked, inching forward instinctively. “Should I call an ambulance?”
“You have a job, Ms. Bellamy.” He grunted again, obviously hurting. “I expect you to be on time, and I expect you to do what’s required of you.” He moaned, bowling over.
“Jesus, Abram, let me call somebody.”
He threw a hand in front of him, stopping me in my tracks. “If you want to help, you can get the hell away from me and do your damn job!”
Hs teeth ground together, and his muscles clenched, flexing under his tight-fitting black jacket.
I inched backward, eyeing him up and down. Sweat poured off every exposed inch of his body as he sat hunched-over on the pavement.
“Are you stupid?!” He growled. “Get inside! Now!”
Normally, if a man spoke to me like that, I would introduce his crotch to my Louboutins. But something was going on here, and I didn’t have a full picture of what it was.
So instead of flipping out all over this hardheaded douchebag, I just glared at him and said, “I know what my job is. You don’t have to be such a beast about it.”
He got up slowly, tensing his muscles as if he was afraid his insides were going to come pouring out. Turning from me, he began up the stairwell. “Ms. Bellamy, you have no idea.”
Chapter 5
The next few hours flew by quicker than I had hoped. In my mind, I would have plenty of time to get everything in order before The Castle’s grand opening. In reality, though, I probably looked more like a Milan noob on a greased runway.
There was just so much to do, and until the trail bartenders and wait staff got here, I was the only one to do it. And whose fault was that?
So, while I bustled about, arranging and rearranging the chairs, tables, and centerpieces, I couldn’t help but curse Abram under my breath. He should have been here. Hell, he should be the one doing most of the heavy lifting. This was, after all, his nightclub. Shouldn’t he be at least a little concerned about the how the place looked once the floodgates opened?
Still, he had been sick. He was practically bowling over in pain when he left, all gritted teeth and clenched muscles. I should have called the ambulance. For all I knew, the brute could be lying in a ditch somewhere. But the idiot had a head like Monday morning. You just couldn’t get through it.
So, sensitive and caring woman that I was, I found my irritation with him tinged with a little concern.
That really pissed me off.
Once I was absolutely sure (for the third time) that the contemporary decor was all centered and the ‘feel’ of the room was perfect, I moved my attention to more utilitarian matters. There was a huge cooler behind the bar, and it needed to be filled before thirsty customers arrived. I had always found getting people drunk was more about timing and less about actual desire. Nobody liked to wait for their ‘whatever on the rocks,’ and I sure as hell wasn’t going to be the hostess/manager/woman who did everything because the damn boss couldn’t be bother to.
Sure, I could have waited for the new bouncer to get here and help. God knew he was probably going to be bored to tears tonight. New Haven wasn’t the type of place to support a line past the velvet rope. But I was too type A for that. So I kicked off my giant heels and made haste toward that troublesome ice machine.
I was three trips into what was certainly going to be double digit treks when a noise from inside the room across the hall stopped me in my tracks. It was loud but nondescript, like white static or distant rainfall. I hadn’t been outside for a few hours now, and the downstairs of the club didn’t have many windows. The sky had been clear last I’d checked, but if it was raining now, it sounded as though Abram had left a window open.
I set the ice bucket down and stepped into the hall, and as I neared the other room, the strange red symbol painted on the door began to take shape. Still, I couldn’t tell what it was. I grabbed the handle and turned, but the door was locked.
Maybe I should call Abram. Whatever was in that room would no doubt be ruined if it was raining as hard as it sounded. Then again, he had been a super dick to me earlier …
You know what? Let it pour.
Maybe that would teach him to be a little more responsible with his club.