Juice: Part One (Juice #1) Read Free Page A

in self-confidence.
         “Can you introduce me?” he asks me while looking away.
         “Let me introduce you to my little friends, Cuervo shots, bitches!” Barry says, crashing the conversation with three shots in hand.
         “Hey, who wants some? I know this girl does,” he says. My overgrown child of a boss drops the tequila shots on our table, and slides one right to me. “One for you, Bronwyn, one for Denise, and one for me. Sorry, Sean, I didn’t know you were coming,” he says. Sean waves off the slight and sips from his beer quietly.
         I take the shot. It burns all the way down to my stomach.
         Another one arrives shortly afterward. “C’mon Bron, loosen up. Let’s have some fun tonight,” Barry says, now sitting next to me.
         I jab Denise under the table and mouth to her get me out of here. She ignores my predicament to continue her conversation with Sean.
         “You know,” Barry says while leaning in closely, “If you apply yourself more at work, you could really make a name for yourself. I’m thinking of recommending you for a promotion.” While making this creepy offer to his subordinate, he places his hand on my upper thigh and looks directly into my eyes. My skin goes cold. I clamp down my hand over his and push it away. I stand quickly. “I’ll be back, I have to pee.”
         I retreat to a filthy bathroom stall in the ladies’ room. I figure I’m better here than getting finger-banged on the patio. What do I do? Run the hell out of here, tell Barry to fuck off, and potentially cause a scene?
         I’m annoyed but buzzed enough to shoot a quick text to Everett: “Hey, what’re you up to? Creepy boss is creeping me out with creepy shots. Wanna get together?”
         I hesitate a moment and stare at my message. Dammit. He’s going to think I’m desperate. Texting the very next day. He’s never going to respond. Hot, young, rich men do not suffer foolish drunk texts from paralegals moonlighting as startup juice cleanse salespeople. I’m screwed.
         Ding . It’s Everett, responding with a short message, “Yes. Can’t stop thinking about you. Where are you? I’ll pick you up.”
         “Sombreros something?” I write back, pretending I haven’t been here a dozen times.
    Be there in 15. I exit the bathroom to find Barry waiting for me at the door. He looks annoyed.
         “Hey where’d you go? I told everyone you were probably taking a shit in there you were gone so long. C’mon let’s get back to the table.”
         “Actually, boss, I think I’m going to head out in a moment, my stomach is feeling a bit off tonight,” I say and begin to walk away.
         “Oh, so you do have the shits, just kidding,” he says while walking after me. “How about you dance with me one song? This is my favorite Pitbull, “Hey yea yea! Don’t stop the party!” he yell-sings while jumping behind me. He grinds his bulge against my butt and pulls my hips in close to his. “Hey, that’s enough, Barry,” I say, and continue walking toward the exit. “Hey, I’m not done with you!” Barry exclaims while grabbing my arm and yanking me towards him.
         I scream and try to break free, no to avail. Then, I hear a familiar deep and pleasant voice behind me again. It’s Everett.
         “Bron, is this guy bothering you?”
         “Hey pal, I’m her boss, and we’re just having a good time. Fuck off.”
         Everett grabs Barry firmly to break us free. “Let her go,” he calmly says while moving him back several feet. My arm stings from where he grabbed me.
         “Are you okay?” he asks while Barry storms off.
         “Yeah, just get me out of here. Thank you so much.” Everett quickly escorts me to the street where a brand new white Tesla is waiting just outside.
         “Is there anything unsexy about you, Everett?”
         “Very little,” he says while giving me a