Stefan nodded. “I’m even better with the right guy.”
Frank closed his belt, surprised that his body obeyed him, but maybe decades of practice were good for things like getting dressed when his brain had suffered a major hard drive crash and was trying to reboot.
His gaze fell on the clock on the wall. Much later than he’d wanted, but after this experience, he was glad he could still identify which century he was in. “I . . .”
Stefan lifted his eyebrows, prompting.
“I have a dinner appointment.” Frank swallowed. “I’ll have to head home.”
“All right.” Stefan gathered up the cut plastic strip. “Careful with the driving.”
“Oh, yes. I wasn’t going to crash into anything or anybody. I’ll be careful. Just . . . if you’d like to come along, you’re invited.”
“I guess I earned a bit of money today already. Should be able to afford it.”
“And it’s free dinner.”
Stefan grinned at him. “Let me put on a T-shirt that’s not full of cum.”
“I wouldn’t mind, but it might be a bit much for Emily.” Frank rolled his shoulders.
“Emily?”
“I’ll explain on the way. Take a change of clothes. You can shower at my place.”
Stefan gave him that ironic eyebrow, likely at being ordered, but did as told. Frank went to the bar again to cool off with a drink. He slid onto a bar stool and then decided he preferred to stand.
Raoul finished serving what looked like a super-dry martini to a City suit and then came down along the bar, hips swaying like he was listening to his own music and not the Madonna song that was playing.
“Anything I can serve you that you haven’t just had?” Raoul suggestively pursed his lips.
“Espresso.”
Raoul stepped to the side to the machine they kept around for staff and flipped a capsule in. As elegant as he was, he could make working the bar look like something of his own personal dance show. Frank wouldn’t have been surprised in the least to learn that Raoul had a past either as a dancer or a bullfighter, though with his width, it would be quite a feat for a charging bull to miss him.
Raoul put the cup on a tiny saucer in front of Frank.
Frank kicked the black coffee back. The bitterness spread in his mouth and the hot liquid trailed down his throat. He blinked and swallowed again. “That hit the spot.”
“Did it?” Raoul’s tone was very nearly catty.
“Different spot.”
Raoul laughed.
“Okay, I’m off. Meeting a couple friends for a late dinner. Anything you needed from me?” He inclined his head and raised an eyebrow. “Or was it taken care of after you came by my office?”
Raoul focused extra hard on wiping down the immaculate bar. “Everything’s handled, boss. Don’t worry about it.”
“What was it?”
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” There was definitely a catty note in his voice now.
Frank leaned on his folded arms. “Raoul.”
The bartender looked at him. No, glared at him.
“Am I missing something here?”
A quiet and decidedly humourless laugh burst out of Raoul. “No, it would seem you’re not missing a thing.” He started wiping the bar again. Faster. Probably harder, like he wanted to rub away the lacquer finish.
Frank stilled Raoul’s hand with a gentle grasp on his wrist. “Raoul. Don’t play games with me.” He gestured with his chin towards the back door of the lounge, the one that led to his office. “Why were you coming by my office, and why are you annoyed with me?”
Raoul jerked his hand out from under Frank’s and tossed the rag under the bar. Then he put his hands on the edge of the bar and leaned over them, putting him nearly eye to eye with Frank. “If you knew I was at your door, why didn’t you answer?” His accent was always sharper when he was angry, and this time was no exception. “You ignoring your employees now?” His eyes narrowed and his gaze slid to the left, then came back and met Frank’s. “In favour of other employees?”
Frank didn’t have to look to know that Brandon had come back into the room. He kept his eyes locked on Raoul’s. “I don’t recall ever agreeing to some requirement that I had to answer to you.”
Raoul sniffed with snide amusement. “Answer to me? No. But I’m pretty sure all of these rentboys”—he made a sharp gesture around the lounge—“and us lowly bartenders signed on with the understanding our boss would treat us all equally. And not be indisposed when he was needed.”
“Says the man who practically set me up with Stefan. You knew he was my type, and you all but served him up to me hog-tied on a heart-shaped bed.”
Raoul’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you’d like him, but I didn’t think you’d put him ahead of Market Garden.”
Frank exhaled, pulling back a little. “You’re right. I’m sorry, it should have . . . should have waited until another time.”
Raoul blinked. “So you really are bang—”
“Quiet.” He glared at Raoul. “You and I both know it. There’s no need to say it out loud.”