Deviance Ch. 01

"You're late," Cillian grumbled from behind the bar.

"We don't open for another thirty minutes, Kill." Jamie pleaded, "and you know it." I smiled at Jamie, walking briskly past her to clock in before the system recorded me as late. As long as I made it in within the five-minute window, I was golden. Cillian was just a grump who enjoyed teasing us, but with his broad Irish accent and perfected poker face; it was hard to tell if he was scolding us or being playful. I'd learned that it was the latter majority of the time.

Jamie opened up this morning's newspaper while I unfolded my apron and tidied my hair in the mirrors that lined the bar's back wall. My soft strawberry-blond hair, pale complexion, and the band of freckles across the ridge of my nose were tell-tale signs of my Irish heritage, but that was the only identifier--other than perhaps that I had found a home working at Cillian's.

"Did you see this?" Jamie snapped the paper and folded the front page to get a better view. She read the headline aloud. "Estranged Son Returns to Claim Throne to Hayes Tech Empire."

I huffed. "That's exactly what we need--another spoiled rich kid spending daddy's money."

Cillian stared at me, shocked, one of the few times I'd seen him with any emotion on his face at all.

"Tell me what you really think." Jamie looked over her shoulder, fighting back the grin.

"Okay," I back peddled, "I realize how that sounds, but think about it. This son probably knows nothing about how to run a company or what a work ethic is. He's probably never even had a job in the first place, let alone with technology. So, when the company tanks--because it will--what about all those employees? Where to they go?"

"Damn girl, I was being sarcastic."

I don't know why I got so worked up, but I did. In reality, I shouldn't be bothered by it. I didn't work there, I didn't know anyone who did, but in my experience, people tend to look down on you if you're not at the top. People were quick to make assumptions about me and where I came from without even getting to know the real me. So, for that very reason, I was content serving the general tables instead of the VIP room.

"You have to admit," Jamie said, ogling over the front-page photo. "He's pretty hot."

"Yeah, yeah." I didn't even look. Leaning into Cillian, I whispered, "I'll be in the cooler," which was code for 'I need to space.'

I busied myself with tedious tasks until we opened and quickly fell into the perpetual pattern of serving tables, pouring beers, and helping out behind the bar when I could. All of it was mindless to me; I was in my head most of my shift thinking about the tuition needed for college. I was recently accepted to Columbia--a dream of mine--but didn't have enough for tuition. Even with financial aid, I'd have to pay out of pocket considerably.

I functioned on autopilot until Cillian's voice broke through the fog.

"Roisin," the way he said my name, rich with his accent, reminded me of home. Pronounced, Ro-sheen, it was unique to most of those in New York. My eyes found him from behind the bar as he waved me over.

"Caitlyn called in sick." Before he even finished, my stomach dropped. I knew what that meant.

"Please Kill, I'm begging you. Can't Jamie do it?" I also knew what he was going to say. He didn't like putting the new girls in the VIP suite, but it was more of a pit than a luxurious suite. A pit filled will vipers waiting to strike.

"It's just for a few hours." He said sternly, which in Kill-speak meant I didn't have much of a choice. "I'll give you overtime," he sweetened the deal.

"Overtime, and I want next Monday off." I haggled, having forgotten to reserve the day so that I could visit the campus and start orientation. He owed me this.

"You drive a hard bargain." He thought about it, and finally, he said, "Done." He nudged his chin in the direction of the VIP lounge. "Oh, and take these." He handed me two buckets full of ice and chilled champagne. Someone was celebrating.

Braving the trek across the bar, I managed my most convincing smile before passing Aiden, one of the bouncers, and into the pit. The atmosphere was instantly different than the rest of the bar. The walls were smoothed and painted a soft grey instead of the exposed brick that encompassed most of the other spaces.

The seating was far more lavish, but one of my favorite features was the late eighteen-century style lights and pully fans that lined the ceiling. The soft glow of the Edison bulbs created a calming and relaxing environment adding a bit of character and charm.

There was an arched stone wall that separated some of the booths to provide privacy. I ran my hands across the stone as I walked by, my fingertips finding the smoothed corner stone that I had rubbed down in my anxiety. Off to one side of the stone wall was a narrow opening that helped slow the foot traffic. Guests didn't often use it, but it was great for avoiding the bustling crowds for the servers.

I introduced myself to the few men who'd already arrived; half were in suits, and the other half were in more casual attire but still professional. The high-end watches, designer clothes, and Italian leather shoes were a stark indicator that these men would likely clash with the rest of the bar patrons. I suppose that was why Cillian insisted on two separate entrances, one for the VIP lounge and one for the common folk.

"Oh, darlin, we've been waiting for you." One greeted me with a grin and a wink. I smiled back automatically.

"Hmm..." Another looked at me greedily.

This was why I called it the pit; I didn't particularly appreciate being gawked at like a piece of meat. I also had never felt more objectified.

"Where would you like the champagne?" My smile was harder to fake this time. One of the guys pointed. "Right there." He stared at me like a lion stalking its prey. Eyes following every subtle movement until something else caught his attention. A woman not much older than me walked by in a tight red dress, her heels clicking along the way.

Setting the bottles down, I grimaced. "I'll just be right back." I quickly let my mind retreat as I returned to the bar for champagne flutes.

As I walked back to the pit, I noticed a man sitting at a booth in the back corner. He looked like he had been there a while, but no one had greeted him. Glancing around the bar, I found Jamie flustered, trying to carry seven pints at once, and none of the other girls were anywhere remotely close to this section.

Clad in a dark pair of jeans, a black cotton shirt, and a neat charcoal jacket, he seemed like the sulk in silence type. Sighing, I set the flutes down just inside the VIP lounge and circled back to the man. From his table, I could see most of the pit--at least, when Aiden's huge biceps weren't blocking my view.

A shattered glass pulled my attention back to the rowdy young table; they had multiplied in my short absence. Growing louder and more obnoxious with each passing second, I found myself hoping the other gentleman wasn't bothered by the volume the group was causing.

At first glance, I would have guessed the man didn't belong in a place like this. Holding his head high, he almost demanded all of the attention but didn't relish in it, whereas the others were quick to boast and brag.

He was modest to a degree, and patient which was an unusual characteristic within the typical patrons.

"My name is Roisin, and I'll be your server this evening. What... can I...." His stare was intense and made me forget my standard introduction. "I apologize for the noise...." Even when I looked over at the other table, his eyes didn't follow. They never left mine. "Er... can I get you something to drink? Champagne, scotch, beer?"

"Sexton on the rocks." He replied, his voice sending a shiver down my spine. "And the bottle."

My heart skipped a beat, knowing that was the most expensive whiskey on our top-shelf, and to order a bottle? That was a few thousand dollars.

"Will anyone be joining you this evening?"

The corner of his lip turned up slightly. "Yes, Roisin, despite the Irish's reputation to consume copious amounts of alcohol, I don't intend to drink it all--or alone for that matter."

"Of course." My cheeks blazed red. I smiled briefly and practically ran back to the bar, away from the intensity of his gaze.

When I circled back, I left two glasses on the table but didn't linger because another man had joined him at the table, and there were deep in conversation. Thinking I'd gone unnoticed, I was surprised when I started to walk away, the man thanked me.

The recognition made me uncomfortable, but only briefly. There one second, and gone the next. I gave him a soft nod as acknowledgment.

Turning away, I quickly returned to my mindless routine of aligning glasses, uncorking bottles, and pouring spirits effortlessly, filling each glass to perfection. The group of businessmen was guzzling down the bottles faster than I could keep up.

"Thanks, doll." The man closest to me grinned and eyed me up and down, assessing me. I cringed, retreating a little before slipping back into the central part of the bar as quickly as I could, hoping no one would notice me.

As the night went on, the VIP guests grew more verbose, and Aiden had to shut the heavy doors that separated the lounge from the rest of the bar. That wasn't good for me--now I couldn't slip out without drawing attention to myself. And it made it difficult to keep tabs on the stranger at the corner booth.

Making an effort to check on my VIP guests every so often, which wasn't difficult since they'd moved from champagne to beer and were guzzling it down quickly, I found myself in a constant state of running back and forth, touching my lucky stone every time I walked through the arch.

Pushing the heavy doors open slightly, I peered over to the other gentleman in the corner far more often than necessary, but the two men were emersed in a heated discussion. Every once in a while, his eyes would meet mine, and I felt that heat transfer to me. My cheeks flushed in response.

The entire night, I felt like I was being watched. Every time I turned my back to the mysterious man, the tiny hairs on my neck rose, a shiver ran down my spine, or my skin pebbled with goosebumps. My only conclusion was that it was him.

There was something familiar about the man, but despite raking my brain, I couldn't remember where I'd seen him, only that I'd crossed paths with him before.

"Aiden," I whispered on my way back through, "do you think you could leave one of these doors cracked for me? I picked up that table." I said, nodding to the corner booth behind me. "I know my guys in the lounge are getting loud, but I'm hoping they'll be at their limit soon." It was already half past midnight, and I doubted they could last until closing.

Aiden nodded, smiling at me, "sure thing."

"Hey Ros--what was her name?" I heard shouting across the lounge. A second later, I saw one of the businessmen holding up two empty beer glasses. "We're empty, darlin'."

One of the rowdy guests approached me as I aired on the side of caution, remembering distinctly that this was the man who kept assaulting me with his wayward eyes.

"We could use another round." He grinned, adding, "on second thoughts, just keep them coming. My man, Mark, is paying tonight. The man just finalized his divorce from that bitch from hell." He spoke as if I knew who she was.

"Of course, I'll be back in a moment." I smiled as best as I could.

When I turned, he slapped my ass loudly. I turned around, glaring at him, but he was laughing with his friends with no care in the world. As much as I wanted to slap the crap out of the man, I rolled my eyes and ignored him. It was the only way to ensure I got a tip at the end of the night, but I made a mental note to make Cillian agree never to place me in the VIP lounge again. On my way back through, my fingertips found my stone again before stopping at Aiden's side once more.

Nodding my head in their general direction, I leaned into him, "They're getting bold and a bit too handsy for my comfort."

"Just say the word, and I'll be happy to throw them." He gave me a brief smile of encouragement, and my anxiety started to melt away. As I spun around, I noticed the man in the corner booth watching me. He was close enough to hear my conversation, but I didn't know how much he had picked up on, only that he couldn't take his eyes off me.

As the night continued, the VIP group became fearless, and at one point, one of them pulled me into his lap. I tried to push him away, but his grip was firm.

"Let go of me before I call security over." I threatened through clenched teeth. When I looked over at Aiden, he had his hand pressed to his earpiece and then rushed toward the front of the bar, completely unaware of what was happening behind him.

"Come on now, that's not nice." The man cooed.

"Neither is touching what isn't yours." We both turned to find the gentleman from the corner booth towering over me. He held his hand out, and I took it as he pulled me to my feet. "Roisin," he said my name softly, "go to the bar." But there was no mistaking. It was an order.

I looked at him and saw the darkness in his eyes, and I wondered what would happen if I left these men alone. Would he hurt them? Would a fight break out? My mind ran through all of the scenarios, but I didn't want to stick around to see.

When I got back to the bar, Cillian asked me if everything was alright, and I nodded. I'd wait until the bar was closed before I'd tell him. He already had his hands full, judging by the three police officers standing in the entryway. Kill tossed the towel down and went to assess the situation. Instead, I picked up some of the dirty glasses and started cleaning them. It was the easiest way to sink back into my head.

After a while, I braced myself and headed back into the lounge, hoping everything had calmed down, only to find that both the obnoxious table and the mystery man had left.

I was relieved to find they'd both left me a generous tip. I folded the money and slipped it into my apron, knowing this would make a significant dent in my first semester's tuition. I was nearly there, too; just a few more weeks of waitressing, and I could afford the first semester.

Caught in my thoughts again, I realized I'd cleaned up the VIP lounge already and set the bags of trash by the backdoor. Cillian had sent the other girls home for the night when I'd joined him at the bar.

"Was it worth it?" he asked.

I debated telling him no, simply to make a point. "I made out better than I hoped, but that was the last time. I'm serious." I squinted my eyes at him warningly.

"Oh, you're on the VIP lounge for the next two weeks," he said even-keeled.

Staring at him dumbfounded, the corned of his lip twitched, and I knew he was only joking.

"Very funny," I sighed, "I'll take the trash with me on my way out. See you Tuesday." That gave me two nights off, a treat I hadn't had for a long time. I was looking forward to the campus visit.

Grabbing the garbage bags, I struggled out the backdoor, pressing it shut until I heard the latch, and then tossed the bags into the dumpster. I'd always made a habit of parking close to the alley for a quick retreat out of the cold, but the start of August was still one of the more pleasant nights.

I was almost to my car when I heard footsteps behind me.

"Roisin?"

I spun so quickly I almost tripped over my feet. It was him--the man from the corner booth. The alley was dimly lit, but I recognized the soft brown waves of his hair and his dark brown eyes. Oh, those eyes.

I placed my hand on my chest. "You scared me," I admitted.

"I apologize; that wasn't my intention. I only wanted to ensure you were alright."

That was sweet of him. I instantly relaxed. "I am," I smiled. "I didn't get a chance to thank you... sometimes the guys can get a little... out of control. You didn't have to step in, but I am thankful you did."

He took a step closer to me, nodding. "Don't mention it. Do you mind if I walk you to your car?"

"That depends, do you always make a habit of lurking in the dark?"

"When it suits me." He paused, holding a hand out, leading the way. "Shall we?"

"Oh, um, I guess." I fumbled with finding my keys in the dark as the man fell into step beside me. "You know--" I hesitated, "You know who I am but, I never got your name."

"Kieran." He was so close to me I could smell his cologne, a hint of citrus and spice?

"Kieran... that's unique. No last name?"

"Please tell me this isn't what you drive." He said, ignoring me altogether.

Suddenly feeling conscious, "Umm, well, yeah. It works, most of the time." Living paycheck to paycheck meant I had to choose between tuition and or a newer vehicle--I'd settled for a twenty-year-old Honda sedan, and for the most part, she was reliable but didn't have the fancy push-start option. And I always had the subway to fall back on. I'd only ventured the seven-mile walk once and wouldn't recommend it, but I could do it if it were the only option.

"Well," I shrugged, "this is me."

"So, it seems." His gaze met mine, and I felt the heat returning to my cheeks, something I didn't understand. He leaned down and reached from the handle, opening the driver's door for me.

I paused, "I know I sound silly, but thank you for showing me that the good ones are still out there."

Kieran grinned, "Or perhaps we're just more charismatic. You mustn't be fooled, Roisin; any sheep can be a wolf, and all the wolves are the same." His words made the tiny hairs on my arms stand on end. "Be safe until next time."

He motioned for me to climb into the car, and I smiled at the uncommon display of chivalry and eerie warning. He held the door open for a moment longer. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Roisin--a very enlightening evening, indeed."

My head tilted at the odd remark, but I smiled anyway. "Likewise. Thank you again for tonight. I appreciate it."

"Always." He gave me one last soft smile and then shut the door. I studied him as he began to walk away, wondering what it was about the man that had me so curiously intrigued. Was it the way he couldn't take his eyes off me? Or how I'd become grossly enamored with his chivalry? Seeing me for someone with more beneath the surface or the way he came to my rescue? He was different. I suppose that was what drew me to him.

Shaking the thought away, I put my key in the engine and turned it, but nothing happened, not even the subtle crank of the engine. Refusing to believe the day was going to end like this, I turned the key again, but the engine was silent. The battery must be beyond dead.

In defeat, I threw my head back against the headrest, shutting my eyes for a moment of peace before I braved the creeps that lurked in the subway at this hour.

Suddenly, an arm wrapped around the headrest, and a hand covered my mouth. My eyes opened wide as panic filled my body. Adrenaline coursed in a matter of seconds.

The need to fight kicked into overdrive. I tried to scream, but the hand across my mouth muffled my cries.

I felt a pinch on my neck. My eyes flashed frantically to the rearview mirror as I watched a masked attacker withdraw the needle from my neck. Looking into his eyes, I saw conflict, but he did not release me. Struggling against his hold, I pressed the button for the horn, but nothing sounded. Stupid battery! I pounded against the window in a last-ditch effort, begging for Kieran to turn around, but he was too far away.

Within moments my head started to spin. My body went slack, and my attacker released his hold over me. It was three in the morning, and even if I wanted to scream, no one was around. I tried to move my lips, but my whole body was paralyzed.