Mastered (The Enforcers 1)

Though Steph had told her about the front bar area, she was still surprised by how pleasantly quiet it was when she made her way into the lavishly decorated social area that was sectioned off from the dance floor and the huge bar in the center of the dance floor.

It was a genius idea to have a quieter area with a bar so people could actually talk and hear one another instead of yelling over the music. It would also give her time to have a drink in a quiet area so she could work up her courage to venture onto the dance floor.

Steph had explained that the dance floor was like a stadium with the bar in the center and the dance floor surrounding it on all sides. Then beyond the dance floor were the public places to sit. These were unenclosed areas with tables and chairs to rest after dancing and have a drink, although conversation was pretty much out.

Above the public seating were the private boxes. These were enclosed rooms with a waiter or waitress assigned to each, and music could be heard or not heard with the flip of a switch. They were larger and more comfortable sitting areas than the public seating below with couches, plush armchairs and a large table for setting drinks and food on.

The only thing it lacked, Evangeline had dryly remarked on, was a bed for people hooking up to have sex. She’d shut up quickly when Steph had seriously informed her that there were even more private rooms at the top of the club, access strictly monitored, which meant you had to be pretty damn important—or rich—to get in, and they were equipped with all the necessary comforts for couples to do as they wanted.

How Steph knew all this, Evangeline didn’t know, and she hadn’t asked, though she’d seen Nikki and Lana’s open curiosity and knew they would certainly ask at first opportunity. Evangeline figured if Steph had wanted them to know, she would have volunteered where she got her info, so she hadn’t pursued the matter and had continued asking questions before either Nikki or Lana could pounce on the opportunity to grill their friend.

Evangeline made her way to the bar, pondering how many drinks she could afford and how she should space them accordingly so it didn’t look so obvious that she didn’t belong. If she bought one, she could nurse it a long time and at least look like she was doing something other than standing around looking and feeling out of place. But then again she needed at least one drink in her to fortify herself before venturing onto the dance floor, where she would likely see Eddie and whoever his latest conquest was.

She glanced down, wondering if she was out of her mind for thinking, even for a moment, that Eddie would look at her and feel any regret for what he’d thrown away so callously. Even a freaking bouncer had found her lacking, so who was she kidding?

She murmured her order to the bartender and he smiled at her, his eyes twinkling. It was the first overt gesture of welcome she’d received since arriving at this place, so she smiled back. A genuine smile. One that said thank you. He winked at her and then began making her froufrou girly drink, as the girls called them. Hey, she couldn’t help it that she was a complete lightweight when it came to alcohol. Just because she served the stuff every night didn’t mean she partook of it.

Besides, she liked fruity drinks and she especially appreciated that the bartender stuck one of those tropical umbrellas along with a cherry into the drink just before sliding it over the bar to her.

“On the house, babe,” he said when she carefully pulled out one of the bills from her precious cache in the tiny clutch she had draped cross-body so she didn’t have to worry about dropping it or laying it down and forgetting about it.

She lifted her startled gaze to him. “But you can’t do that. You’ll get into trouble!”

He winked again and just shook his head before heading down to attend to another customer.

Well. Maybe not everyone found her a miserable failure. And he was pretty cute. No, not cute. There was one thing she was picking up on even though she hadn’t ventured far into the club yet. The men who worked here weren’t pretty boys. They were guys who were buff and built and looked like they could handle themselves in a fight. And the women were beautiful. Classy looking and elegant. There would be no looking down one’s nose at one of the waitresses here because they looked like high-society chicks who just happened to be serving drinks. Apparently being beautiful was not only a requirement of being allowed into the club but also to work here.