I woke up early to review the file and write out questions and take notes. Kate had already left for her spin class and that gave me an opportunity to study and memorize the important pieces of information. It also gave me the chance to burn the file. I would learn more once I began working. Words on a piece of paper rarely translated into real life, and seeing Christian described as lethal intrigued me. The FBI had to know more than what Luke was letting on. And if Ray's death was supposedly an "accident", then what would a real hit be described as? It wasn't a given I would get the job, but I was pretty confident. Apparently the bartender, Ryan, had a thing for brunettes.
I drove my Prius to the bar, parking across the road and checking my makeup one last time. This wasn't their popular club downtown, it was their place to come and relax after a long day. It was small and exclusive, but members of the public still drank here, providing them with a very believable cover and making it a true business. I wondered how much of their illegal business was mixed with the legal side of things. I guess that's what the FBI wanted me to find out.
I locked my car, hoping I was dressed correctly in black leather pants, black boots, and a white tank top with a red bra underneath. I pulled open the front door and took a deep breath.
My nose was instantly attuned to the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke as soon as I pushed the doors open. It wasn't dark inside, but it was musty and the air was thick. The wall behind the bar seemed to made of fogged glass, illuminating the entire room and showing off the extensive collection of alcohol. It was strangely peaceful.
I glanced around and spotted a few men nursing their sorrows in the middle of the day, and I confidently walked up to the bar.
"Can I help you miss?" the bartender asked, wiping down a glass with a fluffy white towel.
"I want to work here," I said, meeting this gaze, sliding onto a barstool.
"You have some balls, missy," he responded, not making any other move. I stood meeting his gaze for what seemed like an eternity, refusing to back down. He sighed, placed the glass down on the counter. He didn't look away as he reached under the counter and quickly pulled a gun out and pressed it against my temple. Watching him hold it, I knew it wasn't loaded. The weight of the gun was off and the safety was still on. I took a deep breath, but refused to flinch away. He tried not to show his surprise and keep his poker face, but he didn't do a very good job.
"Unfortunately, I'm not an idiot, so you'd have quite a mess to clean up. Plus there are witnesses. And the safety is on," I said, refusing to look away. His hand relaxed and his lips quirked up in a half-smile. I moved his hand away from my temple and placed it on the counter, still holding the gun and allowing him to point it at me.
"Who the hell are you?" he asked. His hair was cut short, close to his head in a buzz cut and his chin was scruffy. His forearms were covered with tattoos and rippling with muscle. He was dangerous, and he made sure I knew that with his stance and dominant behavior.
"Anastasia Steele," I said. "Call me Ana."
"Why the fuck do you want a job here?" he asked.
"I'm bored and no one is hiring english majors," I said evenly, shrugging.
He took a step back. "I want a Scotch."
I glanced behind him and saw the rather large collection. "Irish, Scottish, or American?"
"Scottish."
"Single malt or blended?"
"Blended."
"How much water?"
"Finger."
I took that as an invitation to make his drink. I hopped over the bar, surprising him with my athleticism and grabbed the bottle of blended whisky off the shelf. I mixed the water in it and handed it to him.
"Why are you giving me the expensive stuff?" he asked.
" You'll drink that glass, enjoy it and come back for more. You'll be a bit more tipsy and I'll give you something different, cheaper, and we'll continue that way until you're only paying me for water."
His eyebrows raised. "You're business smart. Although, that's an illegal practice"
"I don't think wasting alcohol, especially nice stuff, is prudent. Nor do I think you always check the age of the patrons you serve. Serving like that wouldn't be the first law you've broken," I said, taking a deep breath. It was a risky card to pull, but one that could open the door to some more information. If this was how this informant thing worked, it was pretty thrilling. I shook that thought out of my head, thinking of Ray. Even though they didn't know he was FBI, he was still dead. Lives meant nothing to these people.
He glanced over at the men who were watching us with glazed eyes. "I'm worried you won't be able to deal with men like that."
"I'll drum up business. A female bartender is what all men want after a hard day. Something easy on the eyes," I retorted. "As for men like that, I'm pretty sure you'll be hard pressed to find someone else who can vault over the bar."
"Thirty days unpaid. Then it's up to the boss," he countered. I stuck out my hand for a handshake. "I'm Ryan."
"Maybe we should hash out the details," I suggested, hoping to understand a little more about the importance of Shades of Grey.
"Right, there are rules. No drinking on the job and no sexing it up with the customers," he began.
"I'm not stupid enough to put myself in a position like that. Plus I worked The Black Bar while I was at Washington State," I said, settling into my bartending persona. He raised his eyebrows. He'd heard of it. Then again, it was urban legend. The bar didn't technically exist- it changed locations every weekend. It was notorious for making the best cocktails in the states and the critics that were lucky enough to find it gave it glowing reviews.
"You let people go into the back room over there if they look like they belong. If they don't, it's your job to toss them out or run interference until one of us can vouch for them. It's up to your discretion and you won't get in trouble for keeping someone out, even if they were supposed to be in there. Don't strike up conversation unless spoken to, and whatever you do, don't get involved in anything that doesn't involve you," Ryan said.
I nodded, desperate to ask why, but I knew I couldn't be perceived as curious. Observation was the key to survival here and I doubted Ryan would be happy if I asked any questions.
"Now that's settled, let's put you to work," Ryan said, handing me a rag and telling me to wipe down the tables. The men were still watching me as I wiped down the chairs and tables, making sure everything was clean. I got lost in the mindlessness of the task, listening to the Black Keys drone on about lost love.
"Hey Ana, you should probably go home and change before the rush tonight. It's Friday," Ryan said. I glanced at the clock and realized I had been wiping down the tables for two hours.
I placed the rag on the bar and Ryan handed me a key. "Don't lose this fucking key. It's the key to the really good stuff, the boss' personal stash."
I nodded and placed the key on my key ring. Ryan nodded to me before I turned around and walked towards the double-doors. "Ana, don't be fucking late either. Seven o'clock or I'll shoot you. It's my ass on the line too. Wear something that shows a bit more skin. You'll get great tips from these guys."
I crossed the road and drive home. I had two hours before I had to be back at the bar.
"I got the job!" I yelled, walking into our living room.
"Yes, Steele! Can Ethan, Jose, and I stop by tonight?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with excitement.
"You know I won't be able to give you guys discounts yet," I said, grinning.
"It just gives us an excuse to celebrate," she said. "I'll see you there Steele. And nice job, by the way, getting a job at one of the best bars in Seattle. Too bad it isn't The Black Bar."
After showering and throwing on the same pants, I grabbed my favorite crop top. It showed enough stomach and had a pretty deep v-neck. I always made a lot in tips when I wore that particular shirt. It was definitely lucky.
I arrived back at Shades of Grey with fifteen minutes to spare before my shift would start. I parked my car in the same place and saw the line out front that was steadily growing longer and longer. I assumed the bar would official start open seven, so I walked right up to the front and opened the doors and nodded at Ryan who waved his rag at me when he saw me walk in. It was surprisingly busy, people were occupying nearly all of the tables, some dancing to the fast-paced music that was thumping through the speakers. No one really gave me a second glance, until I caught the attention of everyone at the bar by vaulting over it again.
Ryan shook his head at me and I grinned at him, before turning my attention to the crowd that had formed.
"Hey sweetheart, can I have a Jack and Coke?" some guy asked. I flashed him a winning smile and quickly poured his drink, taking his twenty. I returned with $13 in change, but he smiled and told me to keep the change. Ryan noticed this as pointed to jar under the bar with my name on it. I stuffed the cash in the jar and began to take the next order. I surveyed the crowd as I worked, mixing drinks and serving hipster bottles of beer. It was primarily men, dressed in suits. Many looked like they were meeting for after work drinks, but a few were here because it was a trendy place to drink. Everyone was tipping well, and I noticed Ryan was making a steady amount of tips too. Everyone drinking here seemed to have money or come from money.
I thanked my lucky stars as people continued to order simple drinks, mainly beer and hard liquor, nothing that required a paper umbrella and chopped fruit. That's what I hated. I fell into an easy rhythm, and easy smile on my face and putting smiles on the faces of customers and flirting back when necessary. Ryan was just watching me, but he seemed to be impressed at how well I was handling the attention and attempted gropes.
I was filling a pitcher of beer for a guy with blonde hair, who was extremely flirty, when people at the bar began to disperse and move out of the way. I tried to remain focused on my task and tried to steady my breathing, especially as I caught sight of the Grey brothers in my peripheral vision. The two brothers approached the bar and were obviously expecting to be served next. Weighing my options, I decided to ignore them, handing the pitcher of beer to the guy and asked another man who was next what he wanted.
"Excuse me, miss," a smooth and extremely cultured voice interrupted me. I glanced up and raised my eyebrows. "Bottle of Macallan 30. From the cabinet."
I made no move to head to the locked cabinet or any indication that I had heard him. Christian wouldn't notice me if I was passive and I decided he needed to be brought down a few pegs. People were obviously intimated by him, myself included, but I couldn't let him see that. "Please give me a second, sir."
I heard the stifled laughs and then Elliot's loud guffaws. He slapped his younger brother on the back. Christian's eyes were angry, but I could see the hint of a smirk on his face."Would it helped if I ordered it?"
I smiled sweetly at him. "Of course, but you'll have to wait for your turn."
I handed the other man his drinks and he scurried away, obviously afraid of the Grey brothers. Together they towered over nearly everyone, pushing six foot four and their eyes not missing anything that was going on around them. They were scarily alert and I felt their gazes on me as I worked quickly serving people in record time. Ryan jumped in after I made them wait for two minutes, breaking down and serving them the requested bottle of whiskey. They took their bottle and disappeared into the back room.
Ryan pulled me aside. "What the fuck are you doing, Ana?"
I grinned at him. "Just because they are the owner's sons, doesn't mean they should get away with having bad manners. If you're so concerned about it, I'll apologize to the boss, not to his spoiled offspring."
He raised his eyebrows. "Fine, I'll let it go. Just don't push it too far. Go take five before we open up for real."
I jumped over the bar again, getting a round of applause from the crowd. Ryan was obviously scared of Carrick and probably assumed he was the boss to be afraid of, but I knew Christian was the lethal one. And lethally gorgeous too.
As I exited the bathroom, I saw the door of the private room open slightly and Ryan's unmistakable hand and arm holding the handle. I could make out the faint conversation.
"…I like her already Ryan, put her on the payroll."
Ryan spoke up next. "She's already drumming up extra business, and I don't think she'll be a problem."
A woman interrupted him. "You don't have to convince us anymore. She seems to know her way around a bar and how to handle herself. I certainly trust your judgement too. Just be careful- she seems like the type to be able to talk anyone into anything."
"I'll keep an eye out," he said.
"Christian, what do you think?" the woman I assumed was Grace asked.
"She made me wait in line," was all he said, causing the other occupants in the room to chuckle. If I couldn't attract Christian, at least his family seemed interested.
I darted back out to the bar to avoid being caught in the hallway and began serving drinks again and placing the tips in a jar under the bar. Ryan came back, but made no mention of my acceptance from the Grey matriarch and patriarch. I spotted my friends strolling into the bar and grinned.
They approached the bar. Jose whistled, "Dang Steele, stepping it up from The Black, I see."
I grinned at Jose and Ethan. Kate was the one who ordered the drinks. "We want Sex with an Alligator."
"I would hope not," a smooth voice chimed in. Elliot Grey was standing casually next to my best friend, the Rolex on his wrist catching the light and glinting. Kate swallowed nervously, and I tried my best not to laugh at my tongue tied friend. "She knows what she wants."
Elliot turned to me and smirked. "You know what, I'll try it to."
I grinned and gathered four shot glasses. I mixed the melon liqueur with sweet and sour, pouring it into the glasses. I carefully poured the raspberry liqueur so it layered with the green mix and topped the shot off with Jagermeister. Kate grinned as I handed them my signature drink.
"Cheers," Elliot said, tipping the double shot glass back like a pro. He coughed and I began laughing.
"It has a bit of a bite, no?" I asked, smiling smugly at him.
"Yes, but I like it," he said, giving me a salacious grin. "Did you invent this?"
"Yes I did, it's my signature. If you wait for your turn at the bar from now on I might make you more of my signature drinks," I said.
"Count on it," he said with a wink. "Can you make another for my brother? He hates shots, but he needs to try this. Yo, Christian!"
I took a deep breath as he approached the bar, his white linen shirt unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up making him look incredibly sexy. He was an attractive and powerful man and I wasn't the only one following him with my eyes. I focused on making the shot and placed it on the bar.
"Have you ever wanted to have sex with an alligator?" Elliot asked.
"What the fuck?" Christian asked. He turned to me, his grey eyes alight with humor. "I apologize for my older brother's crude mouth and lack of a filter."
I raised an eyebrow. "I'm not offended, seeing as that's what this drink is called."
He looked mildly embarrassed and surprised. "I see."
"Chris, you have to try it!" Elliot declared, handing it to him. Christian looked at his brother disdainfully and tipped it back. Unlike Elliot, he didn't cough, but merely raised his eyebrows looking at the empty glass.
"Interesting flavor profile," he said, placing the glass back on the counter. He leaned in to say more, but was interrupted by a very loud gunshot. Elliot all but threw Kate over the bar to safety before pulling a gun out of the inside of his suit. Ryan was no where to be seen behind the bar and another gunshot rang our, terrified patrons screaming and running. Kate was cowered next to me, her head in her hands. I spotted a shotgun under the bar, and grabbed it, crawling over to the beer taps that would provide some cover if I stuck my head up. I checked to see if the gun was loaded and all of Ray's words and pieces of advice about guns came rushing back to me. Only two shots had been fired, but no one was leaving. Christian was standing guard of the bar, Ryan was holding the hallway to private room with Carrick, and Elliot was hidden behind a table that had been flipped. It was tense and silent. I stood fully holding the shotgun.
Christian lowered his gun slightly and a barrage of bullets were let loose, shattering the bottles and the glass wall behind us. They were shooting us on all sides. I saw something move in the darkness, through the broken glass and fired. The person fell to the ground. I heard shots ring out from the other guns, and I managed to take down one more man. When I was confident there was no one coming from the back, I turned around.
I didn't have a clean shot. The guy was raising his gun and pointing it a Christian. Panicking, I jumped over the bar and tackled the guy to the ground, slamming my elbow against his throat, but the element of surprise didn't last very long. I screamed as I felt a knife slice my abdomen. A shot rang out and the guy fell to the ground, crushing me in the process.
Everything began to blur and I could see Ryan running towards me. I passed out before he reached me.
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