“Hey, can I get a Budweiser over here!” a gruff voice demanded as Dominica pulled her hair up into a ponytail to start her shift. She sighed, grabbing a bottle from the mountain of cold beer and ice under the bar. She slid it to the customer quickly, taking his money and stuffing it in the register. Her eyes scanned the already packed bar. She silently cursed her boss for putting her on without her usual partner. Because it was a sports night, the bar was already swarming with men of all shapes, ages and sizes, all ordering beer and yelling at the various TVs playing football games.

Leaning back against the counter she crossed her arms over her chest. By the end of her shift she knew she’d be craving the cold comforts of a beer and a cigarette like her life depended on it. The thought in itself terrified her. She hadn’t smoked or drank in three months but this job had sorely tested her before. Steeling herself she mentally chanted, “It’s just another night. It’s just another night. Don’t let it become one of ‘those’ nights. It’s just another night.”

“Hey, toots, my girl needs a whisky sour over here!” a heavily New York accent yelled at her.

“Coming right up!” she plastered on a smile that didn’t reach her eyes and grabbed the necessary ingredients, quickly mixing the drink and passing it off to the man in need. The woman he clutched to his side looked miserable, her done up face a mask of happiness when her big blue eyes gave her boredom and sadness away. Flashing a crooked smile when their eyes met, Dom flitted to the opposite end of the bar to help another customer.

“Dominica,” the deep voice of her boss, Darryl, interrupted her groove two hours later and the barmaid froze, smoothing her hands over the black tee shirt she donned as her uniform.

The large man lumbered over to her, his muscles bulging out of a skintight tee shirt, the club’s name embellished on the breast. He pushed aside two sleazy looking Italians and leaned his massive elbows on the bar. Dom tried her best not to look terrified, although under the counter her hands shook like crazy as Darryl eyed her thin frame.

“You dance right?” he rumbled, grabbing a napkin to wipe beer residue from the shiny surface.

“Yeah, it was my hobby of mine in college until I dropped out,” she nodded, shoving her hands in her pockets to quell the shaking. “Why?”

“I got a new kid coming in to tend bar until he gets the swing of it so I’m putting you on VIP, which requires occasional dancing,” he explained, his attention falling on a girl across the room cheering the Jets with a group of suitors.

“D, I would feel more comfortable here,” she started but he shot her a warning glare, shutting her up.

“You want to keep your job right?”

Her jaw clenched, “Yes.”

“Then get moving, Pocahontas.” He tugged a strand of her dark hair and stalked off into the crowd as music pumped from the main dance floor on the floor above.

“Son of a bitch,” she grumbled, slamming her hands against the wood of the bar. She glared at Darryl’s retreating back as a woman sidled up to him and grabbed his waist. Tossing the towel dangling from the back pocket of her skinny jeans she made her way around the bar to the bathrooms where the employee break room was situated.

Banging the door open she glanced over her appearance in the mirror, pulling her hair from the ponytail and combing her fingers through it. She stared at herself and sighed. She still didn’t recognize her reflection. Her face had filled out and the purple bags that used to constantly adorn her eyes were gone. She touched her fingers to her lips, finding they were no longer chapped and starved for moisture. Her gray eyes swirled with hints of silver and her teeth no longer held the yellowish tint that had plagued her since college. She looked healthy.

“Dominica, five minutes!” Darryl’s bark interrupted her mirror time and she spun away from it, quickly jogging from the room and up the back steps to the top floor roped off specifically for VIP.

The music pounded in the enclosed area and Dom slid behind the bar. She eyed the more expensive collection of alcohol around her, taking note of the priciest drinks on the highest shelf. Closing her eyes for a minute she took a long breath in, ignoring the tap on the bar from an impatient patron, and let it out through her nose. Her nerves eased, letting her focus on doing her job instead of her raging need for a cigarette or something stronger. Spinning around she met the man’s gaze and offered him a smile only to be barked at for taking too long.

The night stretched with relatively little else than occasional customers getting impatient with her drink making speed. Dominica found her mind wandering as she checked her watch during the last stretch of her shift. She leaned back against the bar, watching the grinding bodies and flailing arms on the dance floor. She hadn’t been clubbing in ages. She’d forgotten how to enjoy music. Licking her lips she listened to the thumping beat making the walls shake and frowned. She knew she didn’t like rap or whatever remixed crap was setting her nerves on end. Making a mental note to find her iPod when she got home, she grabbed the cloth to clean up the bar when a hand slapped against the surface.

Eyeing the chubby fingers with tanned skin and dirty fingernails, Dominica’s eyes traveled up the muscular arm to the sneering face staring at her. Her throat went dry but she straightened her posture and wiped her hands on her thighs.

“What can I get you?”

He leaned forward, the cocky grin making her nervous. He tapped his knuckles against the bar, pretending to think about what he wanted when she knew he was going to order a Jack. It’s all he ever drank.

“How bout some Jack and a beer,” he said, winking at her and taking as seat on the stool beside him.

Nodding silently, Dom turned her back to him, her chest heaving as she struggled to contain her emotions. Her hands trembled slightly as she grabbed the beer and a shot glass, placing them gently on the bar before grabbing the bottle of Jack. She could feel his eyes on her and it made her skin crawl but at the same time, the familiar pull of danger and the comfort he offered drew her in as she poured his drink.

“Thanks, doll,” he smiled, downing the Jack and taking a swig of the beer. He tapped his finger again and she refilled the shot, her hand trembling slightly, splashing the amber liquid onto the bar.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, wiping the droplets away. His hand fell on top of hers, the calloused skin scraping against her soft hand. Her eyes lifted to his and she swallowed when his fingers squeezed lightly.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” he whispered, tugging her closer so her abdomen pressed against the edge of the counter. “Where’ve you been, Dommie?”

She opened her mouth but her voice didn’t work. Swallowing again she tried to calm herself down and answer with a rasping whisper. “I’ve been sober.”

His laugh boomed over the music and his hand fell away from hers. She pulled it off the bar, resting it against her stomach as she took two steps away from counter, needing the distance. His laughter gave her shivers, and not in a good way, his huge shoulders bobbing up and down as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

“You’re joking right?”

She shook her head and bit her bottom lip.

He frowned. “Sweetie, you were one of my best customers. You can’t tell me you’ve forgotten that.” The cocky grin returned and he licked his lips, eying her hungrily. “You would do anything for some spliff and a cocktail.”

“Not anymore,” she hissed and glanced at her watch. A rush of relief washed through her, her shift had ended. She untied the apron from her waist and tossed it under the bar, her skin prickling with the familiar need to return to old habits.

“Dommie, come on, baby, you need me, remember?” he leaned toward her as she made her way to the end of the bar to clock out.

“No I don’t, Luke. Now please leave me alone,” Dom tried her hardest to stay calm while she typed in her login on the register. Her entire body trembled with energy but she ignored it, stepping out from behind the bar to go back to the ground floor to get her things. She tried her hardest to give Luke a wide berth but he wrapped a thick hand around her arm, pulling her body against his massive thigh.

The stench of alcohol mingled with the spearmint smell of his breath when he leaned close to her face, his lips mere inches from hers. She kept her eyes on anything but him, praying for an interruption when he inhaled, smelling her cucumber-melon body spray.

“If you ever need anything,” he tilted his head so his breath fluttered over her neck, “just give me a ring. I know you still have my number.”

Her breath caught in her throat and she clenched her jaw tightly, praying he’d let her go. When his hand slid free of her arm she scurried away before her boss discovered she’d been conversing with a well-known drug dealer. She burst into the break room, grabbing her things and ignoring everyone around her as she pulled her coat over her shoulders and buttoned it up. She waved goodbye and rushed back into the club, taking the emergency exit to get out into the cold city air.

Without even thinking about the time she whipped out her cell phone and held it to her ear, praying he’d answer her desperate phone call.