Chapter Text
The apron was a fragrant miasma of simple syrup and rubbing alcohol she’d grown accustomed to almost every day once the sun set over Santa Monica. Sure, her other apron with embroidered pastel purple and pink filigree that swooped and curled her name over her right breast was a better inhale, what with its badges of sugar, flour, and buttery icing. It was her preferred uniform by far, one that put more of a bounce in her step whenever she tied it on. But that apron was for daytime; this one – black and without embellishment except for the deep waist pocket for her notepad – was for long nights catering to two types of people: those demanding a good time, and those wanting an escape. The rowdy din pulsing through the walls of the break room assured her tonight was going to be a war of both.
“You’re quitting, aren’t you?”
The familiar voice behind her cracked a smile through her pensive stare into the dingy locker. Esther turned around and revealed a contented grin at the doorway where her best friend leaned, bangled arms pretzeled at her chest. She was in black, too, though of her own agenda and without an apron. She looked like she did any other day.
“What makes you say that?” asked Esther.
Her friend met her just inside the door. “Aside from the fact you’ve been putting on that apron for the past five minutes, you’re doing the faraway, ‘why I am still here’ look again.”
Esther rolled her vibrant brown eyes. “And you can magically see my expression through the back of my head, huh, Dani?”
Dani’s expression muted, matte plum-painted lips now colored in sarcasm. “Sorry, I meant from the slouch in your shoulders and your forever conversation with Matt at the front door even though you should’ve been back from your lunch break like ten minutes ago. You’re either in love with him, or you didn’t want to come back at all.”
“Or you’re jealous I didn’t hang out by your booth,” Esther returned, giving the long braid hanging over Dani’s shoulder a tug. Sniggering, Esther shook her head. “Matt – really? That’s the best you could come up with?”
Dani trailed Esther between shiny metal surfaces where the kitchen staff, Arnold, Juan, and Marco, flipped and tossed and patted and seasoned while exchanging crude stories and jokes the girls actively ignored. Halfway through the flimsy kitchen door, Paul skirted in and parted the couple, flashing them a brief, rueful smile while inquiring to Marco about his pending order. Marco waved a flippant spatula at him which rerouted the inquiry into a shouting match both Esther and Dani rolled their eyes at.
Before she could comment over her shoulder about the scene, Esther ran directly into Jameson. Ricocheting off his lanky figure, he stood affronted before her with his fists on his hips and the same scowl he always wore no matter what day it was.
“Jesus, Esther, this place is crowded enough as it is!”
“Sorry, Jame –”
“And Dani!” The older man directed his menacing green eyes to the other woman, who tilted her head and pursed her dark lips up at him. “You have no business in the kitchen whatsoever. You either play your set or hop behind the bar.”
“Wow, James, are those my only two options?” said Dani coolly, and she gave his black bowtie a defiant wiggle.
Jameson batted her hand away and readjusted the neck adornment. “Absolutely not. The third is unemployment, which you’re tiptoeing close to by standing around doing nothing.”
Dani sighed. “Nothing, huh? Being verbally abused by my manager wasn’t my first choice on how to spend my time at work, honestly.”
Esther stifled a laugh behind her hand that she attempted to pass off as a yawn. “Anyway, Jameson, I’ve got to get back to my section.”
Jameson peeled his white-hot glare from Dani to Esther. “There’s been a change. You’re covering section 3. A table of four young men just came in; one is already insistent on having drinks brought out. Handle it, Martinez. And you!” he pounced at her counterpart, who eyed him, bored, “Get to the music or head out, Lopez. I don’t pay you to escort Esther every shift.”
As Jameson lurched past the bar, Esther clamped an instinctive hand on Dani’s wrist and held her in place, negating the quick two-stepped lunge her friend attempted in Jameson’s wake. Dani ripped her hand away in a huff.
“That cranky ass motherfucker,” sneered Dani as she straightened the wide black brim of the hat haloing her head. “One day I’m gonna make enough money to buy this place out and turn it into an actual club, and then I’m gonna employ his ass as my janitor just so I can make him mop up all the glittery puke from my drunk-off-their-asses patrons.”
“You clearly dream big.”
Dani scoffed, “Don’t you have a table of dudes to take care of?”
“And don’t you have some angsty house music to play, Ms. Spinster?”
She watched her friend smooth a hand down the front of her black button-down blouse, the thin assortment of silver crosses clanking together on the shallow slope of her chest.
“It’s DJ Spinster, thank you,” came Dani’s snarky return. “Now go make those tips so we can get the fuck outta this shithole.” She gave Esther’s behind a frisky smack and carried on towards the back of the bar.
Esther watched her go, a fond smirk playing on her nude lips that dissipated the instant Paul rushed by and halted at a nearby table, a frantic look on his face.
“You got the bachelor party, right?”
“Jameson told me to take Section 3.”
Setting a spread of mozzarella sticks and onion rings in front of his patrons and flashing them a professional smile, Paul tucked the tray under his arm and whipped around to face Esther. His coarse fingertips massaged his distressed demeanor into her shoulder as he held her at arm’s length.
“That’s the bachelor party. I was supposed to help but I’ve really gotta head out – like, five minutes ago.”
Narrowing her gaze, Esther shrugged out of his hand. “Damn, Paul, you’re cutting out early again?”
“I’m really sorry, Esther.”
She shook off his response and glanced back at the cluster of active booths in Section 3. Sighing, she said, “Well, I better go then. I’m assuming they still haven’t gotten their drinks.”
“You’re truly the best!” he called after her.
“You truly owe me,” she threw back.
Lining her shoulders, Esther weaved her way on knowing feet through the crowd and tables. Silky, seductive beats emanated from Dani’s speakers at her back, adding a slight sway in her walk. She nodded to another server in passing and offered practiced smiles to the tables she threaded between, gaze finally resting on the warm glow above the table Jameson was adamant she tend to. Four men sat along the curved dark leather of the booth, one midway out of his seat with eyes on the bar.
Mr. Denim’s sure in a hurry to get fucked up, she mused, the corners of her lips peaking. Well, if anything, Paul’s ensured me a decent tip tonight. Nothing says double digit bills like young, women-less men in suits and button-ups salivating in the direction of the bar.
Picking up speed, Esther gracefully placed herself between the bar and the tall, dark-eyed man attempting to escape the booth.
“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting,” she apologized, resting a calculated touch on Mr. Denim’s exposed forearm beneath the folded creases of his rolled sleeve.
“That’s quite alright!” chimed the man seated farthest from her. He wore a powder blue jacket over his black dress shirt and an orange bowtie. “Busy place means a good choice to dine!”
The man in front of her slumped back into the booth and casted brooding eyes in the other man’s direction. “Or, Maxwell, it’s a Friday night and you picked a place that everyone else in this city decided to welcome the weekend at.”
“Pff!” Maxwell waved the comment away and grinned up at Esther. “It was well worth the wait. Booze, strobey lights, and kinda scary dance music. I’d think of all people you’d be most appreciative, Drake.”
“Speaking of your wait,” cut in Esther as she retrieved the notepad from her apron, “you gentlemen are overdue for some drinks. What can I bring you to start? I can also put in appetizers while you peruse the menu.”
“That won’t be necessary,” the man beside Maxwell replied, his black hair meticulously styled. He wore a dapper three-piece suit that was out of place for the grungy atmosphere. “I think we’re all ready to order.” He side-glanced the last man, who sat between him and Drake. “Damien, you know what you want, yes?”
Damien nodded and smiled brilliantly up at Esther. His sharp features and dark skin were enhanced beautifully under the dim light hanging over the table.
“Normally, I’d say we should wait for Liam, but I think my brother can manage.”
Drake raked a hand through the loose strands of chestnut hair that fell along the side of his face. “Bullshit. Like me, you wouldn’t wait.”
Damien threw him a wink. “Miss,” he looked at Esther with stormy gray eyes, “I’m sorry you’ve been subjected to this tangent off your original comment.”
“So, we’re waiting on a fifth person.” She made a note on her pad and gave the table a professional beam. “Well, let me get you guys going then, as you’ve insisted.” She glanced down at Drake. “What can I get you to drink?”
“Whiskey, please.”
After noting this, she scribbled down a Mojito and two Sex on the Beaches for the others. “And to eat?”
“Steaks,” piped Maxwell. “Five of them.”
Esther offered him an apologetic grin. “Uh, actually, we don’t serve steaks here. Did you need a few more minutes with the menus?”
“Told you.”
Maxwell’s smile fell as he glanced across the table at Drake and curtly shrugged. “I thought that was a thing.”
The attempt at keeping his remark quiet in front of her made her bite her lip to stifle a giggle. Oh god, is it 11 yet?
“What would be like a steak-equivalent at an establishment like this?” Maxwell asked, pensive gaze fixed up at her and two slender fingers tapping his smooth chin. “Something manly, almost last supper-ish considering this is a bachelor party and all.”
Jesus Christ. Esther cemented her smile. “I’d say the ‘manliest’ thing on the menu is the double angus burger. Top it with the jalapeño spread for a dollar-fifty and you just might grow hair on your chest.”
Damien snickered while Maxwell eyed her with an air of suspicion.
“How do you know I don’t have hair on my chest?”
“Are we done, Maxwell?” huffed Drake. “I’d really like to drink now.”
Casting an evasive look across the table, Esther retrieved their menus. “I’ll be right back with those drinks.”
As she turned around, the space where the bar was supposed to became a flash of black and white. Her body halted against a hard, subtle sandalwood-scented wall. Esther stepped back and took in the taller form blocking her movement. He wore fitted black dress pants and a matching, trim blazer that offered her a view of the strip of white dress shirt between the jacket’s lapels. The top two buttons were undone, showcasing a v-shaped peek at his tanned skin.
“I’m –” began Esther but her words faltered.
His black hair was similarly styled to the nameless man’s in the booth, but with less product so that it moved with his motions in lithe elegance. Two warm brown eyes stared down at her beneath the sharp, almond curves of his eyelids, a charismatic, rueful smirk accenting the curve of his lips.
“I’m so sorry,” she managed to finish, and took a reluctant step back.
His fingers cupped her elbow and after a moment, they lowered to his side. “Please, that was entirely my fault.”
“Ah, brother, you made it!”
“Finally.”
“Liam!”
“The man of the hour …”
But the greetings from the table meshed into the background noise of Dani’s setlist and the chatter around them as heat crept across Esther’s face.
“What can I get you a drink?”
He stared at her for a moment before the question registered. “Oh, you’re our waitress?”
They both chuckled and Esther nodded, the coolness of the hoop earrings dangling from her ears caressing the sides of her face.
“Yep, that’s me.”
“Esther.”
Her eyes widened. “How do you know my name?”
The man grinned. “Your necklace.”
In a swift motion, her fingers touched the name plate hanging from the gold chain around her neck. “Oh, duh,” she giggled. “You must be Liam. The fifth man.”
“Intriguing. I thought I left my necklace at home.”
His jest roused from her another laugh, and she shook her head and stepped around him. “I should probably get those drinks before I end up having to foot the bill for your friends for making them wait any longer.”
“On the contrary, I’d make them wait all night before letting that happen. I’d love a beer, though. Whatever you think would suffice. I’m not picky.”
“Alright,” she replied, concrete steps moving her in the opposite direction. “I’ll be right back.”
“I hope so.”
His trailing wish sent a rush of excitement through her all the way to the bar. She slipped the order to Tara behind the counter, who bobbed her head to the combative bass pulsing throughout the dining room like a seductive heartbeat. It thudded inside Esther’s ribcage, rattling this sudden wave of emotion to the point that she leaned against the bar and took a sheepish peek over her shoulder at the shadowy table in Section 3. Liam had placed himself beside Maxwell, who was speaking to him, hands gesticulating in excitement. Liam laughed and shook his head before scooting out of the booth at Maxwell’s sweeping gestures, the nameless man following. When Liam sat back down, his eyes found hers.
Heart racing, Esther quickly returned her focus to Tara’s back as the woman prepared their drinks. He was totally not looking at me … was he?
She side-glanced the dancefloor beyond the dining sections. Maxwell and his friend were on the outer edge of a cluster of dancers, seemingly in observance while moving out of sync. In the corner at her booth was Dani. Biting her lip, Esther stared her down in hopes the woman would glance up and find her, but her light nodding and fluid hand motions on the sleek black controller panel suggested she was in the zone.
“Girl, hello?”
Esther flinched and came face to face with Tara as she placed the tray of drinks in front of her.
“Eh, sorry, Tara.”
Tara shook her head and wiped a spot of liquid off the counter. “I know how it is. We work too much for shit pay and no sleep.”
“Tell me about it.” Esther collected the tray and headed on coy feet back to the table, every length lost in her stride filling her anxiety. What the hell is wrong with you? Get your shit together, Martinez.
Lining her shoulders, she straightened up and eliminated the space between herself and Liam – er, the bachelor party. Another blush blossomed. Goddammit.
This is how it was, unfortunately, all the way up to her last ten-minute break: she’d regain her composure, lean into her confidence, and then puddle into flushed mush whenever she found herself in Liam’s proximity. What made it worse was the fact that whenever she was forced to invade his space, he made a comment about it – about her, specifically. He commended her diligence to their “neediness,” remarked about the grace she maintained when balancing the tray holding their burgers on her shoulder, and even attempted to help her collect their empty glasses when they were done with another alcohol-induced round.
She didn’t know how to take any of it; normally the people with money who chose this place as a last resort or for its gauche novelty tucked into the strip of upper class establishments along the beachfront didn’t even wad up their used napkins onto their decimated plates, let alone offer their assistance. But this man, the modest center of attention for whatever reason, was going out of his way to be decent. It was odd and refreshing and suspicious.
She couldn’t shake the intrigue all the way over Dani’s booth, where she decided to split a small basket of fries with her as she usually did on break. Dani yawned and stretched her arms up, and then plucked a few steaming fries from their woven plastic cradle while Esther tucked into a folding chair hidden behind the booth.
“No seasoned fries this time?”
“I didn’t want to bother Juan. They’re really busy.”
“God, can the next thirty minutes go any faster? I’m ready to pass the fuck out.” When Esther didn’t respond, Dani glanced down at her. “Woman, did you already pass out?”
“Hm?” She shook her head. “Sorry. I was lost on a thought.”
“That maybe working two fulltime jobs is insane?”
Esther rolled her eyes. “It’s not that.”
“Okay, so, what is it? I’m usually ten waitressing mishaps into your break by now.”
“I’m sure if our roles were reversed, we’d be double that.”
“Nah, I’d be fired like two years ago for spitting in some uptight douchebag’s chicken salad. You’re the one with angelic grace in the face of this dismal job.”
Grace … Esther shoved a fry between her lips.
“Hello, miss, is Esther back there?”
At the mention of her name, Esther snapped her head up.
“Dude, she’s on break.”
Despite Dani’s snarky response, Esther popped up. On the dancefloor below the front of the booth, Maxwell and Damien beamed up at her.
“Hi. What can I do for you?” she asked, avoiding her friend’s side-glare.
“We truly don’t mean to bother you,” started Damien.
“But, when you’re done, our friend Liam wanted to talk to you,” Maxwell cut in, and he shot a grin at his friend.
“Oh.” Ginger fingers brushed the end of one of her French braids that rested on the front her white uniform button-up.
Leaning against the booth, Maxwell added, “More of a question, really.” He cocked an eyebrow and smirked.
Dani matched his look and bent over the top of the booth. “No patrons on my setup.”
Maxwell quickly withdrew and chuckled nervously. At his side, Damien flashed her a grin.
“Vivacious.”
“You have no idea, fancy pants.”
Esther tugged Dani back by a beltloop and offered the men a contrite smile. “I’ll be there in a few. I promise.”
As soon as they were out of earshot, Esther rounded on Dani. “Can you be any more obnoxious?” She watched Dani’s bright, brown eyes rotate between black lined lashes.
“Like they’re gonna skip out on tipping you. You practically dumped your fries to jump at their request.” She suddenly hesitated. “Wait a sec, one of them wants to ask you a question?”
Esther shrugged. “I guess. Maybe for a comment card so they can report me to Jameson for my unpleasant friend.”
“I don’t know,” Dani returned, narrow gaze fixed across the dancefloor as she crossed her arms, “I’ve been watching those two while they’ve been out here. They keep looking at you and whispering.”
“You’ve noticed, too?” Esther grabbed her wrist, her expression softening.
“Yeah. Something’s not right about those dudes.”
“Their, uh, friend – Liam – he’s really chatty.”
“I’d be careful. I can even back you up when you go over there if you want.” She caught Esther gazing over the crowd towards Section 3, her finger tugging at the end of her braid. Dani’s brows furrowed. “Don’t even think about it.”
Esther eyed her, hand falling into the other. “What?”
“Look, they’re obviously loaded, they can’t dance for shit, and all of them keep smirking at you – I don’t care how lucrative the opportunity may be, I forbid you to be gangbanged by dudes like them.”
Her dark eyes dulled at Dani, a manicured eyebrow curving on her forehead. “First of all, you’re disgusting. Second, like you’re one to talk; you’ve fooled around with two of the cooks –”
Dani held up a hand and looked away. “I told you not to bring Juan and Marco up in here. Someone may hear and then I’ll have to put up with all the hurt feelings bullshit again.”
“Third,” Esther continued, “I actually think their friend is … well, hot.”
Dani’s mouth fell open. “Which one?”
“Liam. The Asian one.”
“I haven’t seen an Asian one. Just the goofy white dude and his good-looking counterpart. And the one way too overdressed for this dump …”
“He’s been at the table all night with the other white guy. He seems more your type: broody and invested in his drink.”
“Don’t even, Esther. I’ve sworn off dicks for now.” She patted the controller panel lovingly. “Besides you, Spinster’s my true love.”
Esther hip-checked her and hopped off the small landing of the booth onto the dancefloor.
“Don’t do it.”
Esther shot her a pointed grin. “Break’s over, babe.”
“Love at first sight is bullshit!” Dani called after her. “It’s all lust, I promise!”
Spinning around, Esther called back, “I’m collecting the bill, Dani.”
Under her breath, Dani groaned, “I really need to tone down the sluttiness of my setlists.”
With covert precision, Liam scanned the room, his eyes eventually falling across the table on Drake. “Dessert?”
Drawing sharp patterns into the condensation on his empty glass, the corner of Drake’s mouth curled. “This is your party. Do you want dessert?”
Liam settled against the backrest, a diplomatic smile on his face. “It seems a shame to end the evening so early.”
“Or, his Royal Highness had sudden inspiration for an act of uncharacteristic rebellion. Clearly, Damien’s rubbing off on you.”
“Does that make you jealous?”
“On the contrary, it makes me grateful. I’m no mentor. You know this.”
As a whirlwind of memories blew through his mind, Liam chuckled fondly until the boisterous room returned, leaving a cool breeze in its wake. “You and I’ve had some good times.”
“Don’t say it like that, Liam.”
“Like how?”
“Like you’re here to break the news we’ve all been selected to be your pallbearers.”
Shifting in his seat, Liam readjusted the leg he had over his knee, maintaining an even expression. In response, Drake sat forward, a palm on the table next to his glass.
“I’m not an idiot, Liam.”
“I never insinuated you are.”
“You trying to play diplomat with me right now says the opposite. Don’t insult me by pretending I’m them, Liam.”
Liam’s smile broadened into a warm, unspoken apology. Leaning in with his elbows on the table, he replied, “You truly are my best friend. Always have been …”
“… Always will be.” Drake’s features softened. “You never have to pretend with me.”
“With Tariq here, I have to preserve some kind of decorum, even at the expense of honesty.”
“I don’t even know why you invited him.”
“My father thought it’d be the right thing to do since he’s recently recruited some business prospects. He feels a personal connection may due us a favor in the future.”
Drake waved the statement away and sadly glanced at the watery remnants of his glass. “If I’d have known sitting here in an attempt to keep you from committing emotional suicide would result in me having to listen to potential business transactions, I would’ve sucked it up and dealt with Maxwell’s dancing.”
Liam laughed. “Excuse me, Drake, but I’m afraid, per social construct, tonight’s about me.”
Drake’s gaze narrowed, a smirk attempting to throw off his faux seriousness. “Every night’s about you.” He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Looks like the waitress is coming back.” He watched Liam swivel in her direction. “Geez, Liam, don’t go breaking your royal neck, now. You were in my company last.”
But Liam hardly heard him. Instead, his attention lingered on the curvaceous figure cutting through the crowd, black, shoulder-length hair bound into two low-hanging French braids. White and red stage lights above the dancefloor bounced off her white top and exposed skin – dark, supple, and inviting. Her gold necklace and earrings glinted cheerfully at him.
She walked with confidence, with purpose, all the while showing off that radiant smile to everyone she passed. His insides fluttered. It wasn’t that he wasn’t a witness to beauty; he was drowning in it, really. Scheduled, primped, displayed in tradition and trend on pedestals of fine garments and wealth and obligation.
Natural beauty was a different thing entirely. Unassuming, genuine, kind in a setting where he was simply him, and she unapologetically her. Liam’s stomach tightened.
His tunneled view of her vanished as Maxwell, Damien and Tariq returned to the table.
“Esther’s coming,” remarked Maxwell, grinning ear to ear.
“Don’t.”
All eyes shifted to Drake, who remained stoic in the wake of his command.
“Draaaake,” started Maxwell in singsong, but the other man remained resilient.
“I’m being serious, Beaumont. Don’t encourage it.”
Tariq downed the last of his Sex on the Beach, the glass bottom rapping against the wooden tabletop as he returned it. “Please, Drake. Let ’em have who he wants, he’s the future king for Christ-sake.”
Drake shot the man a narrow glance, inciting a chuckle from Damien.
“Drake Walker, when did you become one to instigate tradition?”
“If this were any other situation –”
“What other situations are you suggesting?” Tariq cut in like a knife through butter. “Nobility prevails by sweeping those unspoken arrangements under the imported rug. Just look at Her Majesty Cassandra of the Davenport Isle.”
“Whoa …” Maxwell muttered, tugging on his collar and glancing away.
Liam looked between Tariq and the dangerous gaze Drake set upon him. “Now please, Lord Tariq, I’d prefer not to discuss foreign affairs that don’t concern us.”
“It was quite the affair.”
Damien cleared his throat. “Alright, alright, Liam’s right. He’s also not that type of person.”
“I need some air,” Drake announced and stood, producing his wallet. After rummaging for a moment, he tossed some cash in front of Damien. “That should cover me and Liam.”
Tariq smirked. “Your friend is considerably sensitive, Liam.”
“He’s someone I’ve had the honor of growing up with,” Liam returned, evenly. “I trust him and his opinions with my life.”
“A sentiment that exemplifies your generosity, no doubt.” Tariq tossed a wadded-up napkin into the center of the table.
Maxwell sent an elbow into Liam’s side. “There you are Esther!”
Esther appeared at Liam’s other side, the sharp pain below his ribs subsiding.
“Here I am,” she agreed. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
“Your efforts tonight were exquisite, miss,” answered Damien as he collected Drake’s lone cash and produced a credit card.
“Glad to be of service.”
“If I could get the bill, we’ll definitely allow you time to your other patronage.”
“I guess we’re both lucky because I have the damage and you’re my last table tonight.”
“We’re very lucky then,” said Liam.
While Esther left to handle the transaction, Liam regarded his remaining friends. “If I’m not being too presumptuous about our time together, I’d like to continue the evening, gentlemen.”
Maxwell bounced beside him. “It’s your party, Liam! I’m down to party all night if you want!”
Damien nodded, a grin splitting his face.
“It’d be a waste to return to the hotel so early,” added Tariq.
When Esther returned, the men filed out of the booth, Liam loitering just behind Maxwell. In a polite effort, he took gentle hold of her elbow.
“I can’t thank you enough for everything tonight, Esther.”
“Please, it was my pleasure.”
Proffering her a warm smile, he continued, “Still, I feel bad that we kept you from your other guests with our unyielding demands.”
Esther giggled and shook her head. “Really, it’s no problem. For being so needy, you all were entertaining. Definitely more so than other tables I’ve waited on.”
“I wanted to ask you something.”
“So I was told.”
Heat rose along the back of his neck, the unrelenting desire to grin inevitable. “Well … you see, me and my friends are not from around here.”
Esther gave him an obvious once-over. “I could tell.”
Liam chuckled. “Are we that obvious?”
“Absolutely, but I wasn’t gonna press the topic.”
“Since this my first time in Santa Monica – well, in Southern California, I was wondering if you, as a local, could suggest our next adventure? Perhaps a club or a place nearby that we as tourists should visit? Also, I wouldn’t mind indulging in something sweet. I noticed the menu was a little limited in options.”
“Oh, yes. I’ve suggested an actual dessert menu to my manager but he’s a little … combative when it comes to constructive criticism.” She paused, an internal bout of speculation leaving her jittery. “It’s too bad it’s so late. I would’ve suggested going to the bakery I work at a few doors down from here. They have amazing pastries.”
Liam’s eyes grew wider. “You work at a bakery as well?”
“I gotta pay the bills,” she replied, nonchalant. “I actually really love that job, to be honest. Being around the wonderful smells, creating things that make people smile … it’s great.”
Her response brought about a craving in Liam that tugged at his heart. Straightening the knot of his tie, he made his decision.
“Esther, you’ve obviously had a long day and our presence hasn’t made that any easier, but I’d be remiss not to invite you out for at least a drink.” Before she could answer, he pressed, “I insist. You certainly deserve someone extending the courtesy you’ve bestowed upon us. Though, I must admit, the way you described your job at the bakery, I’m slightly disappointed I won’t be able to indulge in one your confections.”
“We open tomorrow at 11.”
Liam’s smile dropped. “Unfortunately, I’ll be tied up with some prior obligations.”
Esther observed him for a moment, the apparent regret on his face somehow genuine. Oh god, what am I doing? Heart thumping in her chest, she managed an efforted swallow.
“Look, Liam, you said you wanted to see some sights. I … well, I opened the bakery today, meaning I have the keys.” She watched his expression grow hopeful. “I could technically let you try one. Ya know, since you’ll be ‘obligated’ tomorrow – and because I can clearly see you tourists need a local taste of California not laced in simple syrup and booze.”
Chuckling, Liam gave her a nod. “So, she has a knack for breaking rules.”
“Only because you weren’t a bunch of animals tonight.” She bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder.
“Is something the matter?”
“Oh,” she turned back to him, “I should probably let my friend know where I’m going. She’s the one DJing tonight.”
“Why not invite her?”
“Honestly, I was gonna say that … only because it’d be more of a fair fight should any of you try something funny.”
Liam winced. “Oh – that wasn’t my –”
“That was a joke,” she laughed, and then grew serious. “Mostly.”
He waited for her to smile again, and when she did, joy spread through him unlike ever before.
“Give us, like, twenty minutes, okay? Meet us in front of the tattoo parlor next door. And try not to be tempted by their cheap prices. I’d hate to spend the rest of the night laughing at you over a drunken impulse I’d never let you live down.”
Beaming, Liam took a reluctant step away. “I won’t disappoint you, Esther.”
“You what?”
Esther and Dani stood in front of Esther’s locker as she hurriedly tossed her apron into the metal space.
“How do I look?” she questioned, shifting a braid over her shoulder.
“Like someone who just worked twelve hours straight and opted to be abducted by a bunch of foreigners!”
“Why do you think I invited you?” she exclaimed and moved past Dani, who followed hot on her heels.
“Oh, and I’m supposed to suddenly know Tae Kwan Do to save your ass? Esther!” She latched onto her friend and spun her around. “You’re being serious?”
“Dani, come on! You’re always telling me I should take chances – that I should take a break from routine and relax.”
“I meant treat yourself to a pedicure. A vacation in Paris. Hell, buy a fucking cat!”
Esther ripped herself from Dani’s grip and kept on. “I like this guy. I’m attracted to him. And honestly, I think he may like me.”
“Look, I’m not anti that. He’d be an idiot not to think you’re hot, because you are. But didn’t you say this was a bachelor party? Isn’t that a no girl zone? And if they’re foreigners, they may think they’re buying your time for something else.”
“I made it clear to Liam that’s not what this is.”
“Holy shit …”
In the middle of the kitchen, Esther stopped and looked at her, eyes shimmering a plea. “Dani, you’re my best friend. I respect everything you’re saying right now, but I really need you with this. I mean, I’m not saying this is gonna be some romantic thing at all. Best case, I give them some amazing eclairs and they go on to some trendy club on the boardwalk, and we head home to sleep.”
Dani crossed her arms and shook her head. “I’d hate to imagine the worst case …”
“You remember when we used to be spontaneous? When we actually had fun instead of waking up, going to work and then passing out, all to repeat the cycle the next day?”
Defiant, Dani shifted her weight, popping her hip.
“When we’d close down a club, not because you were working it, but because we were dancing and drinking all night? When we were a lot less cynical about everything?”
Dani smacked her lips. “Yeah, well, that’s what happens in the big city, Esther. Bills and broken hearts and an endless pursuit of dreams that become more unattainable every day.”
Shooting a glare, Esther shook her head and started walking away. “You know, if Rey actually found you decent jobs, even on the other side of the country, I’d go with you, no questions asked – oh, wait! That already happened. New York, 2018.”
Guilt puddled in her stomach, Dani watched her shove open the kitchen door and disappear.
“What are you and your girlfriend fighting about now?”
“Fuck off, Marco!” Dani snapped at him as he flipped a burger patty and snickered at her. With an irate huff, Dani sprinted after her.
Unsurprised, she found Esther standing just inside the front door near the empty host both. Sighing, she approached with caution and then stopped beside her. Esther gripped the handle, vacant gaze fixed on her reflection in the tinted glass.
“You’re right. What am I doing?”
“No, Es. I’m an idiot.”
Esther searched the side of her face for a moment.
“I would absolutely lose all my best friend cred if I held you back from what you wanted to do … because I know you’d do exactly this if I asked.”
“You’d never ask me to go with you on one of your sexual exploits.”
“True. But this isn’t a sexual exploit.” Dani offered her a small smile. “Your taste in men is much healthier and stable.”
Esther grinned.
“Not that you don’t know how to be a ho.”
Then, Esther laughed.
“No judgement.”
Esther sighed. “It’s just pastries.”
“Yes. Right. Pastries.”
Esther pushed the door open and Dani caught her arm, halting her.
“But, if this fucker doesn’t put out for you putting your job on the line, promise me you’ll dump his ass in a heartbeat.”
“You really don’t believe in gray areas, do you?”
They walked side by side onto the strand where the crowd had thinned but had not completely diminished even with the late hour. Colorful, blinking lights beckoned night owls to Pacific Pier farther down the beach. A few stalls were still open where vendors offered every passerby the perfect trinket to honor their west coast visit. Couples and groups of college kids meandered past the twosome for a stroll down the coast or in search of their next party spot. And through the clearing, Esther caught sight of the five familiar men, Liam with his back to her. Much to her surprise, the guy named Maxwell met her gaze and flitted his angular chin in her direction.
Suddenly, Liam’s affectionate smile found her. Butterflies danced unashamed in her stomach.
“Esther,” he greeted and extended his hand. When she took it, he softly pulled her into the circle. “I’d like to formally introduce you to my friends, mostly so we’re all IDed should something go amiss.”
They all tittered politely, except Drake and Dani.
“This is Tariq.”
Tariq reached for her hand and placed a kiss on the inside of her palm. “It’s a pleasure, miss.”
Retracting, Esther stepped back into Liam’s hand between her shoulder blades.
“And my brother, Damien.”
Damien bowed, a glint in his eye. “An absolute pleasure.”
“My best friend, Drake.”
Drake nodded, hands tucked in his pockets.
“And Maxwell.”
“His other best friend,” Maxwell chimed. “The non-grumpy one.”
Drake rolled his eyes and fixed on Dani, who lingered just behind Esther’s other side. “She with you?”
Esther linked an arm with Dani’s and lurched her forward between herself and Drake. “Yes. This is my best friend, Dani.”
Maxwell’s saucer-sized eyes glimmered an abrupt awareness. “Wait, you’re the DJ!”
“I sure am. I also have a license to carry, know how to properly dispose of dead bodies, and have a Costco-size amount of pepper spray in my purse.” She smiled brightly.
“Oh my god,” gasped Maxwell, “I think I just fell in love.”
“Get your chin off the floor,” Drake sighed. “So, Liam, what’s next?”
“Well, our new friends have offered us dessert,” he explained, looking to Esther. “Though, we’d be trespassing, technically.”
“Right. So, I work at a bakery a few doors down that’s currently closed, but I have the keys to the building. We can grab some goodies and then … well, you guys can do whatever you want, I suppose.”
“Which means we have to be on our best behavior,” Liam added.
“When are we ever not on our best behavior?” Maxwell searched around the group, settling on Drake’s unimpressed demeanor. “Well, mostly …”
Esther led the group down the strand, Liam at her side, the others trailing. Tariq and Damien made commentary about the activities they passed while Maxwell babbled on about the street vendors to an uninterested Drake, who was scrolling through his phone. Dani did the same on Esther’s other side, actively ignoring every question Liam asked Esther about the pier and Santa Monica and Southern California in general.
Soon they were all huddled around the shopfront of Cuppy Designs. With haste, Esther unlocked the door and slipped inside. She punched in the security code on a panel behind the register to disarm the pending alarm, then ushered them in. Flipping a switch, the shadowy interior sprung to life, revealing a white, teal, and pink space. At the front were empty glass display cases and curvy cake and cupcake towers. Posters featuring brightly colored cakes, pastries and cupcakes decorated the white and teal-trimmed walls. Tall, round tables and stools were spaced in front of a bright pink queue leading to the counter.
With their backs to one another, Liam, Drake and Maxwell took in the vividness of the cozy shop and inhaled the subtle essence of cake and sugar hanging in the air.
“This is adorable,” breathed Maxwell, mouth agape.
“Definitely not where I thought a bachelor party would end up.”
Liam tossed a bemused look over his shoulder. “Come now, Drake, as a lover of food, even you must be impressed.”
“I’ll be more impressed when I see some actual food.”
“She can’t keep the cupcakes out overnight, genius,” said Dani coolly as she sauntered past them. Hopping onto the edge of the counter, she crossed her ankle-high boots at the laces and locked a critical gaze on him.
“No shit,” he retorted and planted himself on a stool away from Dani, who watched him like the ominous presence of an obsidian-feathered owl regarding a field mouse.
Insistent on diffusing any potential situation, Esther retreated behind the counter. “Obviously, I can’t whip up anything fresh right now, but we have a refrigerator of prepared items for the next day, things that didn’t sell, etcetera. I’ll grab a smorgasbord of goodies for you all to try.”
“Excellent!” exclaimed Maxwell.
“The only thing is, we won’t be able to eat in here. The crew already cleaned, and I can’t falsely advertise that the place is open to everyone walking by.”
“Of course,” agreed Liam, and he glanced out the glass-lined storefront. “What about on the beach? I’m sure that would be a lovely place to sit and enjoy our desserts.”
Maxwell eagerly nodded. “I wanted to visit the beach.”
“But that means we’d have to discard our shoes,” Tariq interjected, a hint of worry in his tone.
Damien cocked an eyebrow in his friend’s direction. “I’m sure they’d survive a relatively short hike across the sand.”
Offended by the ludicrous suggestion, Tariq presented his pristine khaki canvas loafers to the group. “Damien … these are Gucci.” He then darted harsh eyes in the direction of Drake’s unrepenting snicker.
Esther and Dani left them to sort out the shoe conundrum and headed into the back room, transferring a bountiful assortment from the fridge into a few carrying containers. Returning, they found the men already assembled near the door. Maxwell promptly sprinted back to the counter and took a container from them both, flipping the light switch with his elbow in route.
“Go ahead,” Esther announced from the register, “I’ve gotta lock up.”
Liam watched her grab her wallet from her purse and stuff some cash into the till. He waited in spite of her command, allowing his friends and Dani to cross onto the strand. Their eyes met once again as she walked to him, toting the last container. He took it from her, held open the door and watched her lock it.
“Allow me to pay you for this,” he told her quietly, a shoulder leaned against the cool wall of glass.
“No thank you.” She slipped the keys into her purse. “Consider it a bachelor gift to … well, to whoever in the group is the lucky guy.”
He felt foolish at the statement, as wholesome and kind as it was; that inherent feeling twisted into regret and fear that wound into a single entity and collected in his center like an uncomfortable stone, propelling him away from the window. However, his upbringing shielded this slip, and Liam kept the mask situated on his face without effort … well, with a tiny bit of effort.
This surprised him. It generally was an uncomplicated task, but the company at his side who crossed the concrete onto an expanse of soft sand compelled a tug-o-war of strength and guilt inside him unlike any other. For some unknown reason, Liam wanted to pour the truth into her lap, confident in her ability to be just in light of his flaws; another part of him wanted to lie.
That was different.
Smoothing a hand along the trimmed cut of hair above his ear, Liam did something he’d never done in the face of duty: he said nothing. To his contentment, Esther didn’t seem to notice. Her steps crunched in cadence with his as they descended the tiny berm towards a panorama of endless velvet blue water and white moon-shattered caps rippling the otherwise sleepy surface.
Their friends gathered on a strip of dry sand above the tide in controlled dysfunction. Tariq stood guard of the shoes and designer socks he cradled at his chest, the ends of his dress pants rolled two meticulous times so that only his feet made contact with the sand. He barked at Maxwell and Drake to keep a distance as they discarded their shoes and socks and jogged on to the surf. Hands in his pockets, Damien burrowed his feet into the wet sand between the water’s edge and the group. Dani settled a few paces away, knees gathered at her chest, gaze lost somewhere beyond the void of the horizon.
Liam placed the container with the two Maxwell left, and he and Esther sank to their knees so that she could reveal their bounty. She tried to protest when Liam shrugged out of his jacket to use as a blanket for the desserts but gave in when the garment made contact anyway. Tariq gulped a whimper. Dani rolled her eyes.
As soon as everything was prepped, Damien called Maxwell and Drake back. The group passed around sprinkled cake pops and green and purple frosted cupcakes, a massive slice of rainbow crepe cake, and chocolate glazed éclairs. Maxwell helped himself to what he proclaimed to be the crown jewel of the pick – the rainbow crepe cake, while everyone else enjoyed nibbles and ripped portions of the rest.
Eventually, Tariq found it in himself to submit to a seat in the sand and smoothed out his socks beside his thigh to place his shoes upon. Maxwell called for some tunes, receiving an avid glare from Dani that simmered with a reproaching look from Esther. Pulling out her phone, Dani played a random beach-inspired playlist and endured Jimmy Buffet’s “Margaritaville.” She licked away teal frosting from her cupcake and wished on the first star she found that she was wasting away on some kind of booze somewhere else.
After Liam finished off an éclair, he sucked remnants of chocolate from his fingertips and flashed Esther a radiant smile.
“That was absolutely sinful.”
Another blush bloomed. Tossing one of her braids back, she looked at the chipped red polish on her toes to avoid his adorableness. “I’m happy you felt comfortable enough to try everything.”
“My brother has a natural sweet tooth,” Damien mentioned.
Esther looked between them. “You’re actually related?”
“We don’t like to use the ‘A’ word,” Damien explained, “but my stepmother couldn’t conceive, and when she married my father, they decided to adopt. It had been her dream to sponsor a child in need. Thus, Liam came into the picture.”
“I was only a few months old when I was adopted,” continued Liam. “Damien was two. We’re both all we know.”
Fondly, Damien nodded. “Despite looking different, we have the same spirit.”
“Yeah, a mischievous one,” Drake commented behind his second cupcake.
“Liam is definitely an angel,” Maxwell contested. “Any time any of us got into trouble, Liam had our backs.”
“With Damien peeking around the corner at us from his hiding spot,” Drake added, and he and Damien laughed.
Damien held up his hands in surrender, smile gleaming around the circle. “Fine, I relent. I was the mischievous one. Cleverly so.”
The heel of Dani’s boot dug a sharp trench in the sand as she relaxed back on her hands, curious eyes roaming over each man, until at last they rested on Damien.
“Can I ask where all this ‘mischievousness’ took place?”
Damien’s gray gaze flashed briefly at Liam. “At our home, of course.”
Dani’s plum lips broadened in challenge. “Your home abroad? Your home in some weird sect on the east coast? On the moon?”
Maxwell chuckled. “The moon. How cool would that be?”
“Hey, Chuckles, I’m being serious.”
“Hey, Queen of the Nether Realm,” Drake cut in, “we live abroad.”
“Cordonia, specifically.”
The guys looked to Liam, who remained poised beside Esther. She absently dragged her nails through the sand, dark eyes watching him thoughtfully.
“Where’s Cordonia?” she asked.
“Sounds made up,” scoffed Dani, but Esther ignored her.
“It’s … well, it’s tiny country between Greece and the eastern Mediterranean Sea,” Liam continued, the conviction in his tone faltering ever so slightly. The gentle crash of a small wave breaking on the shore prompted his attention towards the water. “Esther, would you mind taking a walk with me? I’ll gladly answer any questions you have while walking off some of this sugar.”
Her heart flipped in her chest as she watched him get up, and her hungry hand accepted his as he helped her to her feet. Quiet befell the group in their wake. Dani’s hardened gaze trailed her friend and the stranger along the edge of the water.
“So, Dani –”
Dani immediately looked at Maxwell, who paused in distraction as Tariq jumped to his feet and slid his phone from his pocket.
“This is the most unorthodox bachelor party …” he muttered and wandered up the berm, face lost in the glow of the screen. “Damien, how does the wi-fi work out here?”
To himself, Damien chuckled. “Be right there, Tariq.” He nodded at Dani and went after the struggling man.
“Alright,” Dani turned back to Maxwell and Drake, “which one of you is getting married?”
Maxwell’s attention shied away. Beside him, Drake stared directly at her.
“Liam,” he replied simply.
Her mouth fell open. Angry, she shook her head. “Big fucking surprise.”
“Yeah,” Drake snapped, “you guys certainly were.” Climbing up to his feet, he brushed the sand off the backside of his jeans. “Excuse me.”
Glaring at the back of his denim button-up as he made his way to the tide again, the bluntness of his confirmation rushed over Dani like a splash of cold water. She twisted to go after Esther but found Maxwell’s hand on her shoulder. In surprise, she scooted away from.
“Don’t worry,” Maxwell spoke softly, “Liam’s about to tell her.”
“What kind of selfish asshole leads a girl on just to surprise her with the news he’s engaged?”
“The kind of guy born into specific obligations.”
Pinching the crook of her nose, Dani got up, Maxwell following suit.
“Please, Dani, don’t be mad. Let me explain –”
She rounded on him and Maxwell took a timid step back. “I’m done playing this game. I don’t give a shit where you assholes are from, how much money you clearly have, or what tonight’s sob story is – if he doesn’t wanna marry the bitch, he shouldn’t have proposed to her, and he sure as hell shouldn’t have led Esther on!”
“It’s not – there is no ‘bitch’!” He planted himself in front of her, handsome face contorted with every ounce of confidence he could muster. “There’s … well, there’s five of them.” He shrunk again, lips parting to expose a guilty grin. “Possibly six?”
It happened out of nowhere: her arm cocked like a shot gun, knuckles four golden bullets ready to lodge into his face. As the confidence drained and terror overtook him, Maxwell ducked behind his hands and waited for the pain to erupt throughout his skull … but peeking between his fingers, he saw Drake lock a skillful arm around hers.
“Trust me, I’ve been exactly where you are too many times to count.”
“Get off me, dickbag!”
Lifting his hands in surrender, Drake stepped back and chuckled. “Geez, lady, I’ve been called a lot of things, but that – that’s a definite first.” As she batted her rumpled blouse into place, he teased, “I’m assuming your practice of the dark arts inspires a creative tongue, eh?”
Maxwell looked her up and down. “Dani’s a witch?”
Leveling the brim of her hat, she shot daggers at him. “Derek –”
“Nope.”
“Drax –”
“Close.”
“Whatever the hell your name is, you will never even begin to know the creativity of my tongue – ever.” She turned on her heel and stalked up the berm.
“Oh, you’re breaking my heart over here!” Drake yelled after her. A cheeky grin spread across his face when her middle finger popped up in response, catching an oblivious Tariq off guard.
“Oh my!”
Worried, Maxwell shuffled closer to Drake. Both men watching her walk away. “Should we let her go without Esther?”
“She can clearly handle herself,” groaned Drake.
Down the beach and away from the mayhem, Esther and Liam sauntered at a snail’s pace, their concern centered on their closeness and the hope that the stretch of sand would never end. She listened to his animated description of Cordonia, and he asked her a million questions about growing up in Los Angeles. He told her that she had an inviting element in her voice that aided in his visualization of her memories. This cemented the grin on her face. He then asked her if she could do anything in the world, what it would be.
“I’d want to own my own bakery,” she replied, wistful in her response. She stopped and turned to him, humored by the surprise glossing his lovely brown eyes. “You think it’s silly.”
“Goodness, no! I just find it fascinating that a woman who works so hard would wish to continue to work despite having a list of resolutions that would offer something else.”
“Come on, isn’t the generic answer winning the lottery?” She bumped his shoulder and relished the heartiness of his laugh. “It’s not that I wouldn’t be grateful for something like that. I just like to get my hands dirty every now and again.”
“And make people smile.”
“Yes! I like to know what I create makes people happy.” She began to walk again, and he eagerly matched her pace. Her phone buzzed in her purse, but she ignored it. “Trust me, the job isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, but it’s fulfilling. That’s what I crave.” After a pause, she looked at him. “What about you?”
He considered the question as he locked his hands behind his back. “I suppose I’d do something that also fulfilled me but that didn’t confine me, either. I enjoy helping people and making them happy as well. I guess through it all, I miss having moments for myself sometimes … moments like these are what I treasure more than anything.”
“That’s a specific tangent, Liam. What do you do for a living, anyway?”
His steps slowed to a stop. He caught her hand and drew her a little closer but maintained a painful amount of space between them. His heart began to flounder.
“What is it?” she asked, expression flooded with concern. “Liam, are you okay?”
His lips perked into a small smile. “Thank you for asking, Esther, but I’m afraid I haven’t been honest with you this evening.”
“Oh no. You’re a serial killer, aren’t you?”
Laughter cut through the melancholy of his words and he took her in, thankful for her presence. “Worse.”
The laughter died between them. Esther’s gaze dropped to the sand. She toed a random shell and then lifted knowing eyes to his.
“It’s your bachelor party, isn’t it?”
Liam nodded slowly. For the first time that night, he was unable to hold her stare.
“You’re awfully flirty for an engaged man,” she sighed and shifted her attention to the water. “She’s a lucky girl.”
“There’s no ‘she’ yet.”
Confused, she regarded him.
“I’m the Crown Prince of Cordonia, Esther. That’s what I do for a living. I live for other people. Damien and our friends threw this party for me to get away from everything before the social season starts and I begin my obligation to find my princess … the future Queen of Cordonia.”
His words soaked in, pleasant because of the tenor of his voice, yet hardly translatable. She blinked, took a breath, and nodded as reality refocused around them and the ground stopped moving under her feet.
“Well, I suppose I can’t complain about working at Break Zone anymore. At least I get to take that apron off. You … you have quite the job, Liam. But I have no doubt in my mind you rock it.”
“I hope so, Esther. That’s one of my biggest fears, letting my people down.”
“I can’t imagine you being fearful.”
Sorrow laced his quiet chuckle. “As a prince, my fears are plentiful. Assassination attempts, financial ruin, the welfare of our people, my family … never being loved for who I am as opposed to what I am.”
In the darkness, he found her, and she watched him in brave curiosity. Somehow, bright yellow caution tape wound itself around him, warning her he was now off limits, not only because of his station and spousal pursuits, but because she wanted something equally extraordinary without the burden of his condition. But the unspoken meaning of his disposition tugged at her heart strings. Was she the first person he’d spoken honestly with outside of his small group of friends? The thought made her feel so important, so necessary.
With care, Esther took his hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “Hey,” she said just above a whisper, “I barely know you, Liam, but trust me when I say who you are shines through. You’re a good guy, and your kingdom and people are lucky to have someone like you.”
“I hope so, Esther.”
“I’m a great judge of character. Not to say I don’t make mistakes. I mean, I hang out with Dani.”
The remark left him tittering again, allowing for another welcome break from reality. “Your dysfunctional pairing reminds me of myself and Drake.”
“Then we’re both clearly fools.”
“Yes,” he agreed, growing serious. “I suppose we are.” Offering his elbow to her, Esther accepted and together they walked back in comfortable silence.