The Alpha's Queen

Chapter 1: Last Call

Devany

Amateur night at the New Moon Pub was always busy, and the tips I made often covered the bulk of my bills for the month. Every dollar was hard earned, especially the ones that came in the wee hours of the morning after hours of listening to sour notes and flat voices. By then, most of my cheerful smile had chipped away, and sore feet made it harder to move as quickly.

Tonight wasn't much different. The person strumming the guitar on stage right now was passably gifted, and they weren't arrogant enough to attempt an original song. Tara and I hummed along with the popular tune while we pulled a round of beers for a table of regulars.

"I got it, Devany," she said, grabbing the tray as I sat the last frothy beer down. "You get the guys that just walked in."

"What the hell?" I muttered, glancing at my watch.

One o'clock. Last call was in thirty minutes, and from the way the newcomers were swarming the bar and eyeing the ladies, they were still going full steam. I knew this type too well. Early twenties. Too much money. Lead around by their dicks. They were the worst when we cut them off, because in this town, once the New Moon closed, you either went home or drove thirty miles to Crescent Cove.

"Hey Rapunzel," Dennis, my favorite barfly, called out as I passed. He held up his empty cup and shook it.

"I gotcha," I said, pausing to top him off and earning a glare from two of the men who were impatiently tapping the worn bar's polished surface with their black Amex cards.

"Thanksh, hun."

He buried his face in the foam and grinned at me. This time, my smile was genuine. If only we could all be like Dennis and find pleasure in the small things. Unfortunately, some of us were born with the deck stacked against us and contentment wasn't something easily found.

"What can I get you?" I asked the stocky redhead, purposely ignoring the more irritable man with the blonde undercut. He might be handsome if he wasn't acting like an asshole. His pissy demeanor irritated me, and I had just enough piss and vinegar left in me tonight to risk riling him up.

The redhead sneaked a worried look at his friend. Swallowing hard, he shook his head. "Jack can go first."

"I didn't ask Jack. I asked you." I folded my arms over the bar and leaned toward him. His pale, freckled cheeks flushed red as he saw my impressive cleavage spilling out of the tiny tank I was required to wear. "What do you want?"

Jack snarled. His blue eyes flashed unnaturally bright, and he pushed his friend behind him. The other guys in the group grew quiet, almost like they were holding their breath.

"We'll take a round of tequila shots. Enough for everyone here."

Lips pursed in disapproval, I snatched his card from, pinching it between my finger and thumb like it had a contagious disease. Punching in the order, I rambled off the total, swiped the card, and handed it back to him.

"Aren't you going to ask me if I want to open a tab?"

"No. Last call is in twenty minutes."

"We can drink a lot in twenty minutes." Jack looked over his shoulder, dragging his hand through his hair and smirking at his buddies. "Can't we fellows?"

My skin prickled as they howled their agreement, their voices harmonizing better than anyone who'd ever stepped on our stage. Shaking off my unease, I decided it wasn't worth the risk of pissing off my boss and started a tab for Jack and his buddies.

Eight tequila shots turned into sixteen, and sixteen turned into thirty-two. Tara's eyes widened when the redhead–Trey was his name–stumbled back to their table with their latest order. He passed them out before sitting down and pulling a giggling co-ed into his lap.