King's Promise

“I’ll have a Slow Comfortable Screw Up Against the Bedpost Mexican Doggy Style,” Xavier ordered with a sly smirk. It was pretty much a frat-boy drink, but he wanted to see if this dime diva could handle a curveball.

Cheryl met his twinkling gaze and fired an imaginary gun at him. “You got it!” She immediate reached for the vodka, two different rums, Tequila Gold, Midori and gin, and threw in the appropriate mixers, and in less than a minute she set Xavier’s drink on a cocktail napkin in front of him. “Enjoy your screw.”

It took everything in Xavier’s power not to lower himself into the gutter even more by responding to the pun. Instead, he reached for the drink and took a sip. “Mmm. This is a good screw.” Okay, so he couldn’t help himself.

“I’ll have a Voodoo Sunrise,” Jeremy said, seeing if he could stump the hopeful bartender. Her hands flew to the vodka, white rum, grenadine and orange juice, and a few seconds later, she sat his drink down.

“My turn. My turn,” Q announced, and then clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “I have to make this one a good one to see if you got the right stuff. I mean…clearly you got the right stuff, I mean, damn. Look at you.”

Xavier reached over and popped Quentin on the back of the head.

“Ow.”

“Just order a damn drink.” Xavier cut him a look that told him to knock it off.

“All right. Damn. There’s no reason for all this black-on-black crime.” He pumped his fist to his chest. “We’re family.”

Xavier rolled his eyes at his cousin’s nonsense. Cheryl snickered. “Take your time.”

Q turned and hit her with his dimpled smile, but before he could get his mack mojo going, Xavier elbowed him. It wasn’t like him to cock-block this hard. But he instinctively felt the alpha-male impulse to mark his territory.

“I’ll just have a Singapore Sling.” Q looked over at Xavier. “If that’s all right with you.”

Cheryl hopped right to it, while Xavier and Q exchanged looks. No words were exchanged between the cousins, but their ESP battle went something like this….

Xavier: Cuz, back the hell off. She’s mine.

Quentin: I don’t see any rings on her fingers. She’s fair game.

Xavier: Family be damned, if you don’t pump the brakes I’ll take you out back and break your face.

Quentin: A’ight. A’ight. Stop the violence.

“Your drink,” Cheryl said, setting the third drink on the counter with a flourish and settling her hands on her hips.

Q picked up his glass, sipped, smacked his lips together while pretending to be in deep thought and then sipped again.

“Well?” Cheryl asked.

“Not bad. Not bad,” Q said. “But I’m concerned about your presentation.”

Xavier groaned and then propped an elbow on the bar so that he could massage the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sorry,” Cheryl said. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“Entertainment.” Q threw up his hands. “I know a little bit about being behind the bar and it’s been my experience that people really like it if a bartender…you know, entertains a bit.”

“Like hop on the bar and start dancing like Coyote Ugly.”

Quentin tapped his nose. “Do you dance?”

“Uh, no. I’m not interested in being a dancer. I just want to tend bar.”

“The job doesn’t entail dancing.” Xavier elbowed Q.

“What?” Q hissed. “Closed mouths don’t get fed.”

“Please ignore him,” Xavier said.

Cheryl held her smile. “Aw. He seems harmless.”

Quentin settled both his elbows on the bar and cradled his head in his hands. “I am completely harmless. Are you married?”

“Q,” Xavier warned.

“No. I’m not,” Cheryl answered.

“Boyfriend?” Quentin pressed.

“No boyfriend, unfortunately,” she said. Her gaze cut over to Xavier.

He felt another gut punch and wondered how much longer it would take before he suffered a knockout.

“But if you’re looking for more entertaining bartending…” She flipped the bottle of rum over her shoulder and then dipped her knees and caught the bottle with one hand behind her back. “I can do that, too.”

“You’re hired,” Quentin said, grinning.

“Q!” Xavier snapped. “What?”

Xavier jerked his head around toward his cousin, a look of annoyance plastered on his face. “You’re a silent partner. That means be quiet.”

“Touché.” Q shifted in his seat and straightened an invisible tie. “I’m sorry, Ms. Shepherd. Apparently, I don’t have the power to hire you. But I want you to know that I would hire you if I could.”

“Me, too,” Jeremy tossed in, draining his drink. “This is a really good Voodoo Sunrise.”

Now three sets of eyes turned toward Xavier.

“You said that you’re in school. How many hours are you looking for?”

“I’m looking for full-time work. Medical school isn’t cheap,” she joked.

“That’s a lot of work,” he noted.

“I can handle it,” she said, thrusting her chin up. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m a hard worker.”

Intelligence and determination glimmered in her maple-brown eyes as well as a hint of playful interest as she held Xavier’s bold gaze. “You say that you used to work at your uncle’s bar, but you know that working at a gentlemen’s club is a completely different animal. Patrons are going to hit on you—some are rude, some are obnoxious. Do you think you can handle that?”

Cheryl cocked her head. “I didn’t just get this body last night, Mr. King. Putting up with rude and obnoxious comments comes with the territory.”