Ashley and Kayla sat together on the couch downstairs from Bomber’s office. Ashley kept bouncing her leg in nervousness, as her best friend in the whole world patted her hand. “Don’t be nervous, he’s really cool.”
“I don’t know…a tattoo? Mom will freak.”
“I thought the same thing but, really? Like, it’s your body, ya know?”
Ashley put both hands on her bare leg to stop it from bouncing so much. “Are you sure he’s cool?”
“I’d stake my life on it. He’s got the best shit, I’m telling you. No track marks, nothing. Just that tattoo, like I said–”
A door opened. Kayla looked up to see the boss coming out of the office. Ashley looked at Kayla and swore she looked at him sort of the way she used to look at her posters of Chris Brown. It was awe, but something more.
She squeezed Ashley’s hand. “I’ll do the talking,” she said, getting up and pulling down her mini-mini skirt that barely covered her. Ashley was dressed similarly, in bright green Daisy Dukes and a neon pink strapped top. Kayla wore a white t-shirt with hers, with The Rack in gothic letters blazoned across her breasts. They both wore corsets underneath.
Bomber stopped when he saw them. “Hello, Kayla.”
“Hi.” She blushed, and Ashley didn’t know what to make of that. Kayla hardly ever blushed in front of guys. “Um, this–this is my friend, Ashley Cooling.”
The man came closer, and Ashley saw that he was a big man, wearing a button down shirt that his broad shoulders barely seemed to fit in, blue jeans and scuffed biker boots. Her father was a drywall hanger by trade, and this man could easily snap her father in half. She looked up at his face, and her mouth dropped open – such beautiful blue eyes!
“A pleasure,” the man said, his voice a gentle rumble, and he offered his hand. It took Ashley half a second and a nudge from Kayla, before he took it. He turned her hand in his, and kissed the air above her knuckles, his breath blowing along the small, fine hair of her hand. She shivered and got goosebumps at the action.
“I was wondering,” Kayla was saying from somewhere far away, “if she could, you know, be like, one of the crew?”
The boss turned his attention to Kayla, still holding Ashley’s hand. “You understand we had to stop the perks.”
“Yeah, I know.”
The boss looked at Ashley. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen,” said Kayla quickly.
“Sixteen,” said Ashley at the same time.
The boss swung his head and looked at Kayla. “I can’t take her in, Kayla. You know the requirements.”
“Please? She’s my best friend.”
“Will her parents sign the waiver for a tattoo?”
This was the sticking point. “Why do I need a tattoo anyway?”
“It’s to mark you as my responsibility.”
Ashley blinked. She looked at Kayla. She put her hand Kayla’s arm. This was wrong. This was definitely wrong. She didn’t want to be part of some harem. She didn’t care how this man made her feel inside: warm, bubbly, alive. He was…
“Kayla, let’s get out of here.”
“Huh? No, I’m–” She looked up at the boss. The boss put his hands behind his back and waited. Kayla pulled her arm from her best friend’s hand. “I’m staying here.”
“You plan on being available for callers tonight?” the boss asked her.
“Yes, anything to stay here.”
Ashley gasped and she turned around quickly and almost ran out of the VIP room, into the bar proper. Someone stepped in front of her, and she ran right into her – she hadn’t been there before. She was dressed in more clothing than she was, but the flow and fold of the clothes revealed more than she did, if that was possible. She had black silky hair that begged to be touched.
“I–I’m sorry!”
“What are you in such a hurry for?” the woman asked kindly. She was a little taller than Ashley, but that could have been because of the high heels. “C’mon, let me buy you something.”
“I’m – I’m not – ”
The woman smiled. “I know you’re not old enough to go to bars, but tonight is a dry night. A Coke?”
“Er…ginger ale.” The woman guided her to the bar, and the bartender came over. The woman ordered a sparkling cider, and Ashley got her ginger ale.
“So what were you running from?”
“That – that man. The bald man. My friend, Kayla, she called him a boss.”
“Oh, yes, the owner. He can be intimidating.” She sipped her cider. “But he is a good man, and good to his people.”
“What does that mean, ‘his people’?” She was thinking hard about what he had said about the tattoo.
“His employees. Too good, sometimes.”
“Like what?”
“Well, he used to pay for books, sometimes tuition. But he stopped that.”
She drank some of her ginger ale. “It’s kind of quiet in here.” She counted four patrons, not including Kayla or themselves.
“It’s expected on a dry night. Tuesdays are usually quiet anyway.”
“Do you work here?”
“I’m the manager.”
“So you work for…the boss?”
She laughed, a gentle tinkling laugh that made Ashley smile. “He has a name. It’s Bruce. Everyone does seem to call him Boss or Bomber.”
“Bomber?”
“His last name is Bombardier.”
Bruce Bombardier.
“He really is a good man.”
“Kayla acts like she worships him.”
“A lot of people do.” She shrugged. “He’s got that way about him. Some people do what he says right away, others take a little longer.”
“Do you?”
“Worship him?”
She nodded.
Just then, Kayla came out of the VIP room, looking a little dazed. She looked side to side at the bar, not even seeing Ashley. She walked over to a couch and sat down on it, not even bothering to straighten her skirt. Ashley started to get off the stool to find out what was wrong, and then the Boss came out of the VIP lounge as well. He passed an eye over the bar, seeing Kayla. He walked over to her and whispered something to her. She gazed up at him, put her arms around his neck, and pulled him in for a deep, soul-searching kiss.
Ashley’s stomach flipped and she gasped. He was old enough to be her father! How could she – how could she – why did she – “Oh my God,” was all Ashley could say, and looked at the woman. The woman was shaking her head. Ashley, wide-eyed, said, “She – he – they – do they – ?”
“Sometimes?” the woman offered.
That was too much, and she ran into the bathroom, which was, luckily, nearby. After emptying her stomach of her ginger ale, her lunch, and probably dinner from the night before, she sat back and shivered, hugging herself. That was gross, the most grossest thing she had ever seen or thought about in her life. The door to the bathroom opened and she heard Kayla call, “Ash?”
“Go away!” She held her stomach and tried not to retch.
“Ash, I know you don’t understand–”
“No, I don’t understand!” She got up, and opened the door to the stall. Her makeup had run all over her face and she looked a mess. In her dash for the bathroom, she had left her pocketbook outside, but Kayla was carrying it. She snatched it from Kayla’s hand and went to the bathroom to wash her face.
“He’s – he’s amazing, Ash. Everything he does is amazing.”
“I can’t believe you’re – you’re screwing a guy old enough to be your own father!”
“He’s not that old.”
“He is too. He’s at least 40.”
“That’s not that old that’s only – ”
Ashley paused in putting on the foundation. “Twice your age?”
“You make it sound so bad.”
“It is!”
“It is not!”
Ashley threw her compact down and it broke in half, the mirror skittering across the granite counter top, bumping against the mirror. Ashley was going to cry; she knew she was, but she wouldn’t do it here, in the bathroom of a bar, with her best friend watching her. She gathered up the broken makeup and shoved it into her pocket. Forget the eyeliner, lipstick and everything else – she was going to make a mess of it again anyway. She shoved by her friend – was she a friend anymore? – and stormed out of the bathroom. The woman was still at the bar, watching. The man, luckily, was no where to be found, not as she walked out across the empty dance floor, to the main mahogany doors, and let herself out.
Words: 1437
It didn’t go where I wanted it to. I’ll try again another time.