Slips are returned, orders paid, new guests are seated and greeted. Everything is fairly comfortable and easygoing. The other women are kind. The men in sharp suits who stand at the front … they’re intimidating until they look at me. It’s all polite smiles, but there’s no doubt in my mind they can be brutal.
I don’t know all their names yet, but I know the bartender is Mia; there’s a man in the kitchen named Benji and the other waitress working right now is Angela. The best way to describe her is that she’s an assassin with long, curly blond hair. She moves faster than Scarlet and me combined and she’s already nudged me to let me know if I fall behind she can help. Her experience is obvious and a number of the men seem to know her by name.
Maybe in that way it’s like a speakeasy. There are quiet conversations but most of the people here know everyone by first name.
Maybe … I shake my head, unsure of myself. It’s an odd mix and it’s hard to put my thumb on what exactly is throwing me off.
By two hours in, I’m starting to feel a little surer of myself. At four hours in, it’s slowed down a bit. Mia assures me as I walk off with a round of shots for two men in the corner, that it’s the eye of the storm.
“Get ready, the intensity is about to pick up.”
One deep breath in, and I tell myself I can do this. I am doing this.
Slipping out my lipstick, I touch up the color and then I spot Scarlet off to the side talking to Angela. Their heads are together and when they see me coming, Scarlet nods to her and approaches me.
“Hey,” I start, “I think things are—”
“Mr. Cross wants to see you in his office,” she says as soon as she’s close enough. Scarlet holds a black tray close, flat against her body.
The air leaves my lungs. Cross. There’s a faint numbness that goes to my fingers. I knew the Cross boys. I knew of them. And Scarlet told me they own this place. Everyone knows of them, or at least the word on the street is that they run this entire town.
“Mr. Cross?” I question and if I had more strength, I’d ask which one. My heart races and my blood chills.
“Yes.” Scarlet nods once, her gaze staring at mine as if I’m being slow. “He wants to see you in his office.”
Which one? The question begs to be asked, but it stays at the back of my throat, choking me. Standing there expectantly, she doesn’t seem nervous in the least.
“Is everything okay?” I question and she lets out a laugh.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” she answers and that’s not reassuring even a tiny bit. My pulse picks up, nervousness pricking along my skin.
Which Cross brother is it?
That’s not the question that comes out. “Where is his office?”
She gestures at a nearby matte black door. It’s disguised into the wall, the knob of it cut glass. It’s expensive, just like everything else in this place.
And it leads to him. I stop myself right there, breathing in deeply. It leads to a Cross brother. It doesn’t mean him. He probably won’t even recognize me. He didn't know me then. He sure as well wouldn't know me now.
“Through there and down the spiral staircase. There are some rooms down there for … certain things.” Scarlet shrugs, blushing. It throws me off-balance to see her face go red like that and I’m thankful for the distraction.
She knows this place, so whatever goes on down there must be shocking even by her standards.
“Certain things?” The question falls from my lips eagerly in my rush to think of anything other than a boy I once knew. Still, I’m taken aback at the color in Scarlet’s face. She’s hiding something from me. “What certain things?”
Scarlet glances around us, checking to see if anyone is listening. She leans in close to me and drops her voice. “Look, some of these guys … they’re hot. And they’re willing to pay for other things, you know?”
Heat rushes to my face. Oh my God. I must be as red as she is. My imagination spins through all the possible scenarios of the rooms downstairs. “Certain things” sounds illicit and maybe illegal. The question comes out in a hushed whisper as I grab her arm, pulling her in closer. “You sleep with them?”
“Not all of them. Some of them I like to … enjoy, and I do.” Scarlet glances around the club, taking in the women laughing over their wine and the reclined men in expensive suits. Her gaze lands on a couple across the room. They can’t take their eyes off each other. “Sometimes couples come, and we … take them down there to enjoy themselves. Sometimes they want company, sometimes not. There’s also the entertainers.” Scarlet straightens her back. “This is a judgment-free zone. If you want to do something here, you do it.”
My immediate response comes out in a single breath. “Well, I don’t want to.” Is that what they expect of me? “This isn’t what—”
Her hand lands on mine as she reassures me, “Relax, it’s not … it’s not required. It’s just something that happens sometimes.”
“I don’t want to—”
Again she cuts me off. “You say that now,” Scarlet murmurs, a smile playing at the corners of her lips, “but when it’s late, the liquor is flowing, and these men look at you like they’ve never wanted anything more … sometimes it’s tempting.” She shrugs and adds, “If we want something, and they want it too …” her words drift off as her gaze lands on a man in a gray suit, seated by himself. Her tongue sweeps across her lower lip and she says, “All I’m saying is,” it’s then her eyes meet mine again, “don’t knock it ’til you try it.”
“I’m not judging, but if I still don’t want to?” I question although I can’t get the rest of it out. My mind is spinning and I can barely focus on anything. I need to know whether she’s telling the truth. If it’s a requirement that I sleep with men … or couples … in those rooms downstairs, then I have to find another job.
I can serve drinks and take orders, I can flirt even and have a good time in that regard, but I draw the line there. Even if Scarlet thinks I might like more.
Scarlet puts her hand on my arm in a comforting gesture. “If you still don’t want to, you don’t have to. But you do need to go to the boss’s office.”
Fuck. Heat rises to my cheeks hotter than before. I swallow hard. “So why does he want me to go down there?” I nearly choke on the question and again, a little voice whispers in the back of my head. Which Cross brother?
“That’s just where his office is. You’ll see. It’s straight ahead once you get down the stairs. His door is the red one.” Her eyes dart to my lips then back up to meet my gaze. “It matches your lipstick.”
“Does he expect me to sleep with him?” If his office is downstairs, with all those other rooms, then …
“No.” Scarlet shakes her head. “No. Mr. Cross doesn’t … he keeps his dick off the table.” Her arms cross over her chest as she makes the statement, giving her cleavage an added boost.
“What does he want?”
“I don’t know.” Her answer comes out with less patience than before. Scarlet takes a few steps to the bar and stacks her tray there. She’s always taking inventory of the club, making sure no one needs anything. “He doesn’t usually ask for anyone, but maybe it’s just ’cause you’re new. I’ll watch your tables while you’re down there.”