~Chapter Two~

THREE DAYS LATER

I shifted nervously. Just because I had experience dancing didn't mean they were going to hire me.

I was currently sitting in the rival bar of my previous boss. It felt like I was betraying him, in a small way, but I needed a job and they were hiring. They were the only place hiring that had requirements I could meet.

David was speaking with his co-owner, he wanted them to make the final decision together, since they'd both technically be employing me if I was hired. I'd auditioned, submitted my resume and told him the truth when I answered his required questions. So, fingers crossed, I would be hired.

I held my breath when David turned away from his partner and walked toward the office.

We stared at each other for a few moments, me absolutely close to freaking out with nerves and his face expressionless.

He smiled. "Welcome to the family, Miss Shepard."

The breath rushed out of my lungs. Did he just say I was hired?

"Can you start tonight?" He asked, pen poised over the new work log.

"Yes." I replied, still recovering from the surprise.

"Misty will begin your training once you've had a tour of the dressing rooms and booths for the private dances." He paused when he saw the expression on my face once he said private booths. "Don't worry, nothing sexual is permitted and guards are standing by every booth in case a John doesn't get the gist. Owen and I take the safety of our girls very seriously. You're one of our girls now, so that extends to you."

I was touched and relieved that I had protection if I was expected to go into a private booth. "Thank you. See you tonight, David."

I stood and left, feeling lighter since I had steady employment. Yours truly was now working five nights a week, with bonus pay if I got called in on holidays. Hell yes!

Later that night

Misty had taken most of her night to show me around and teach me some of the more basic dances. I caught on quickly since I had experience dancing, it was similar to stripping, just had more movement involved. Misty was a five foot six curvy brunette that was sweet and smart as a whip. Her best friend, Cora, was a five foot blond bombshell with a bubbly personality. I noticed that she mostly wore pig tails and naughty nurse, school girl or girl scout uniforms.

David assured me I didn't have to dance tonight, I could learn the choreography and help serve drinks when Misty and Cora were on stage. He promised to pay me for the night, which was nice, even if it was only some of what I would make if I was actually dancing. It was fair, though. His wage for waitresses for me doing waitress duties.

I was tossing around stage names while I served. I didn't want to keep my old name, it was already taken by a dancer here, and the last thing I needed was the girls thinking I was ripping off their stage names.

It was busy, nearly all the tables were packed with men. A few women, too.

I raised my eyebrows when I spotted them. That never happened at the Ravens Wing, maybe David and Owen didn't mind women customers.

By the end of the night, I'd made at least two hundred in tips. Awesome for waitress duties, no wonder they love working here. I thought, remembering the cheerful faces of the girls working the floor.

I smiled at Damon, one of the meanest and handsome bouncers in the bar, as he walked me to my car. I liked that we had that extra security. Some John's tend to linger in an attempt to talk or ask for another dance. Or, sometimes, encounters of a more sexual nature.

He nodded to me, and didn't head back to the bar until I'd started my vehicle and began to make for the parking exit.

He may look meaner than a ogre, but he was sweeter than sugar, except to unruly or plainly disrespectful customers.

I'd been avoiding any and all thoughts or memories of the man in the elevator. However, often they slipped through. Mostly questions about who he was and if he truly was the supposed piece of my soul that I'd been missing.

Stark hadn't contacted me since we made our arrangement and he'd taken me to the correct apartment suite. I wondered if the shy one told anyone about our little encounter. . . .probably not.

I contemplated calling Stark and asking him about the stranger, maybe they knew each other? I scrapped the idea, since I had only seen Stark once and spoke to him just twice.

I pushed play on my CD and soon, the music drowned out the thoughts of Stark, the strange man and soul marks.

James 'Bucky' Barnes scowled at the pile of papers, and phone books he'd been searching through. He wanted to find her!

How hard could it be to find one dame? He mentally growled, curses in several languages flying across his mind as he still came up empty handed.

Three days. That's how long this particular dame had consumed his waking thoughts, his dreams featuring a face he couldn't match with a name. He'd smell her scent, honey and fresh strawberries, every time he thought back to that moment in the elevator.

She'd said his words.

She was his. Theirs, he mentally amended, his head turning to gaze at his partner. The love of his life. His Stevie.

The punk still wasn't convinced that the mystery dame was their missing piece. He rubbed his left shoulder blade, where her words kissed his skin.

Bucky woke with them, once he'd been freed from the icy prison they'd kept him in. He'd asked where they came from, still dazed from the thawing procedure, and received a thorough reminder of why he didn't speak unless given the order.

The darkness of those times grasped him hard, flashes of their lessons making his metal hand clench so tightly, a portion of the table broke. He jerked, his mind snapping back to the present.

"Buck?" Steve asked, concerned blue eyes burning away the darkness.

"Flashback." I answered quietly, relieved that I was free of the memories for that short period of time. They came and went, some worse than others.

"You're alright. You're here with me, now. You don't have to go back, Buck, not ever." He held my gaze, emphasizing each sentence.

I nodded, taking deep breaths.

Stevie held my face in his warm hands and kissed me, chasing the last of the clingy dark away.

The rest of the night was spent in a more productive, pleasurable way.