Everyone is either blind drunk or having sex, and I don’t really care what they do, but do they have to make so much fucking noise when they do it?
This place is like a twenty-four-seven nightclub. They party all night and sleep all day.
How they are actually passing any of their subjects is beyond me.
I exhale heavily as I trudge up the stairs. The music is getting louder now. Of course, it is.
Penelope Wittcom: my neighbor and arch enemy. We share a common wall and on my side of it, I try to study, sleep and be a respectable student. On her side it’s party and orgy central. Her bedroom is known around campus as the ‘Rave Cave’.
Open all fucking night.
She even has a disco ball in there.
People come and go at all hours, slamming doors, partying and yahooing. To be honest, I think she may be dealing drugs. She has to be. Nobody can be that popular and have so many visitors. It’s annoying that she’s so intelligent and she’s going to become a computer scientist.
And that’s not the worst of it by far.
I’ve never heard so much screaming during sex in my life!
I’ve lost count at how many men she has gone through. I mean, good for her—at least one of us is getting it—but does she have to howl every time she comes?
I’ve put in complaints. I’ve requested to move buildings. I’ve done everything possible. But it’s pretty hard to be heard when Penelope is sleeping with the floor manager.
And besides, I’m on a scholarship. I’m not paying to live here so I have to suck it up.
I just have to get through the rest of this year, and hopefully my grades will be good enough to get a scholarship to return to The States.
When I left my cheating, douchebag ex-husband Roy, I walked out with nothing. Every cent I had earned is in the house that he still lives in, and until he agrees to sell it, I have to live with the fallout.
I’m in my second year of law school, which I’m so proud of, but I also need to live while I study. I’ve applied for every job under the sun but my course hours are intense, and nothing ever seems to fit in with my schedule. I’m grateful for my job at the café, but with only three shifts a week, it just doesn’t pay enough for me to get an apartment of my own. So, for now, this is my life.
The music is really pumping when I walk past Penelope’s room. Her door is propped open. Four or five guys are sitting on her floor, and the distinct smell of cigarette smoke invades the corridor.
I walk past them without so much as a smile, and I close my door behind me. The loud music only softens a little, so I put my headphones on. Who knew I would need noise cancelling headphones just to get through my day?
I flick the television on, which is connected by Bluetooth to my headphones. I grab a mineral water from the fridge, flop onto the couch, and I begin to scroll through my phone. I open an email.
Subject: Application.
From: Club Exotic.
To: April Bennet.
Congratulations, April.
You have been successful in securing an interview with Club Exotic.
We look forward to meeting you at 290 High Street, London East, at 11:00 a.m. on the 22nd of next month.
We pay above National minimum wages, have an excellent career development pathway plan, and we are recruiting ten team members to join our beloved crew.
Please RSVP within seven days of receiving your invitation.
Club Exotic.
I sit up instantly.
I applied for this job months ago. A girl who used to work at the café worked at Club Exotic one night a week at the bar, and it covered her entire rent.
I jump off the couch in excitement.
I mean, I know it’s not ideal. It’s a gentlemen’s club, but it is only behind the bar.
How hard can it be to pour drinks?
Plus, I’ve had to listen to Penelope having sex every night for free, anyway. I’m pretty sure my pure eyes and ears can handle anything these days.
If I don’t find something beforehand, this could work out okay. I speed read the email again. Gosh, that’s five weeks away, though.
Damn it, five weeks is a long time.
My phone begins to vibrate.
“Hello.”
“Hello, April?”
“Yes.” I don’t recognize the voice.
“This is Anika from Club Exotic.”
“Oh,” I frown. “I actually just opened an email from you.”
“Yes, that’s why I’m calling. We’ve just had somebody leave without notice and you were the first person on our interview list who has answered.”
“Okay…”
“Do you want to come in tomorrow for an interview? I know it’s last minute, but otherwise your interview isn’t until next month.”
I quickly run through my schedule for tomorrow. I guess I can skip my lecture. “Yeah, sure. That would be great. What time?”
“Can you be here at eleven?”
I don’t finish my shift at the café till 10.30 a.m. Although, I could get ready before my shift. “Okay, that sounds great, thank you.” I smile, excited. “I’ll see you then.”
“Can I help you, sir?”
“I’ll have a toasted cheese on rye and a flat white, please.”
“Sure.” I smile as I tap his order into the computer. It’s another day at the cafe, another few pounds. “That will be nine pounds ninety-five, thanks.”
He hands over his money, and I hear the distant bell over the door as someone new enters the building.
This is the longest shift I’ve ever done at the café. I’m nervous about my interview this morning. After thinking on it all night, I’ve decided that I really want that job.
If I could just work two shifts a week, then I could move out of the dorm and into my own studio apartment.
Imagine that!
Don’t get excited. You haven’t gotten it yet, I remind myself.
“Can I help you?” I ask as I glance up and stare straight into the eyes of Mr. Garcia.
He came back.
“Hello,” he says in his deep voice.
The air between us doing that thing again… electricity and butterflies all rolled into one.
“You back for more of my great coffee?” I smirk.
He gives me a slow, sexy smile. “I am.”
2
April
“Well…” I drop my shoulders and stand tall, as I try to act cool. “How can I help you?”
Amusement flashes across his face. “I’ll have a double macchiato, please.”
“Of course.” I type it into the computer then glance up at him. “Will that be all?”
His eyes hold mine. “For now.”
I roll my lips as I try to hide my smile. Why does everything that comes out of his mouth sound sexy?
For now isn’t theoretically a hot sentence.
Lance looks over my shoulder to see the screen. “It’s okay, Lance, Mr. Garcia likes it when I make his coffee,” I say as I try to stay straight faced.
Sebastian’s forehead wrinkles, and I know he’s inwardly cringing inside. Ha-ha, this is classic. Oh well. That will teach him for throwing away my coffee yesterday.
“Okay, okay,” Lance says, taking over from me at the register.