“Every job has its perks,” Casey says, slinging his arm over my shoulder, his headphones resting around his neck.
“So, is this your thing?” Her voice does something to my chest, kind of like a sucker punch. I feel like I’ve been caught, but I’m not sure what I’ve been caught doing. No, that’s a lie—I’ve been caught ogling two chicks touch each other in a way that I didn’t think was real until right this moment. I’m not sure why I feel all sweaty and panicked over it.
“Hmmmm?” I ask, pretending I didn’t hear Paige behind me. I keep my eyes on the prize, Casey still looking at the scene with me. But all I’m doing is blinking, wondering why she came to talk to me, wondering why I care…and maybe wondering a little bit if her fuck-hole boyfriend is watching, waiting to start crap again.
“You crash parties to get your fill of girl-on-girl action. That’s your…thing?” she says, leaving her eyes on me, her lips tight. I don’t even have to look down to know she’s crossing her arms.
“Well, I didn’t crash. I’m working,” I say, nodding to Casey next to me, who offers a small wave with his fingers before turning his attention back to the girls on the floor. “But to be honest with you, yes. This is very much my thing.”
I’m so satisfied with my response, and I kind of love the fact that I’ve left her speechless. She’s siting next to me, maybe a full body-width from me, but I can feel her looking at me. I want to see her reaction, but I also don’t like the fact that I care about her reaction. She may have helped me get a B on my Spanish exam, but every time I try to be nice to this girl, to help her, she steps all over me. I’m kind of sick of it.
“Typical,” she says, after I spend several long seconds under her heated stare. She pushes off, and when I know it’s safe, I turn to look at her walk away, and well…shit. She’s wearing this red dress that hugs her body so well, I regret wasting all of my ogling energy on the two girls on the floor. Now all I want to know is what the front of that dress looks like—and if her body moves in the front the same way it does from behind.
“Who was that chick?” Casey asks, elbow at my rib.
“Paige Owens. She’s this pain-in-the-ass customer of mine,” I say, chewing at my lip wondering what else to say about her.
“She’s hot, dude,” he says, climbing back to his feet, to set up the next set at his table.
“Yeah…she is,” I say, my voice low enough I know he didn’t hear. I said it out loud, though, so it counts. I’m not too chicken to admit it. Paige Owens is hot. But she’s still a pain in the ass.
Casey lets me set up a series of mixes after the first hour, and after his touch, they don’t sound too bad. I work on some of the connections for him, making my computer jive with his equipment, then head to the restrooms in the back while we have a small break.
I’m in the back hallway thinking about what an easy gig this is for a thousand bucks when a mountain of a fist smashes into my jaw. My head flails to the right, bumping into the wall with enough force that I’m pretty sure I’m going to have a cartoon-type goose egg on my head in the morning.
“What the fu—” I’m about to protest when a second punch comes at me. I’m more prepared for this one, so I block most of its force, wobbling on my feet and getting my bearings back. My eyes finally focus on a very drunk, very big Carson standing in front of me. It might just be the effects of his punch, but I swear he looks like Popeye. His blond hair and barely-there beard frame his round face, and his body looks like it could crush me—and I’m not small.
“You see that girl right there?” I look around, and there are at least thirty people jammed into this tight space, all looking at us. I know who he means, but I’m not going to make this easy for him—not after he blindsided me with his knuckles!
“There are…lots of girls here?” I say, rubbing my jaw, but keeping my guard up. If he hits me again, I’ll be ready. And I have a feeling I might surprise him.
“Dude, don’t play that shit with me!” He comes at me, and I step back, raising my fist. He quickly moves his hand to my shoulder, turning me to face the back corner, where Paige and another girl are leaning, both of their mouths open, a little shocked at this ridiculous scene. “That. One! Right there! Red dress. Big tits.”
Okay, I’m done with whatever Twilight Zone episode this is I’ve walked into. “I’m sorry…which one do you mean?” I ask, just to be a dick. My eyes fall on Paige’s for a brief second, and she sneers at me. Seriously? I’m the one out of place here?