Page 6 of Dark as Knight

“What the fuck?” He stands up, brushing a powdery substance from his nose. “What the hell are you doing here?” His tone softens a touch when he sees that it’s me, his eyes doing their usual perusal of my body like I’m a piece of meat.

“I’m here to talk about your demands—the extra performances and a new band.” I pull a rusty chair away from the wall and drag it till it’s facing him across from his desk.

“What is there to talk about, sweetheart? I’m the boss, remember?” A string of saliva pulls between his lips as they widen into a grin, my stomach knotting at the sight.

“And I’m the talent,” I say confidently. “We both know that you need me here and I won’t perform unless you bring back Clyde and his band.” I cross my arms over my chest, regretting it instantly when his eyes drop. I release my arms, placing them awkwardly in my lap.

“Babydoll,” he grunts, hoisting himself up out of his chair, “you might be the talent, as you put it, but you don’t bring in a crowd.” He walks behind me, my eyes following him until he’s out my peripheral. I jump when I feel his sweaty hands come to rest on my shoulders. He presses me down into the chair as he leans forward, his rank breath coming out in small puffs against my cheek. “You’re easily replaceable just like those old bastards so don’t push your luck with me.”

I lunge up out of my chair, brushing his hands off me in one motion before turning around to look at Freddy. “Fine, I’ll do the four performances a week and I’ll—” I swallow down the vomit that threatens to rise at what I’m about to say. “I’ll wear sluttier clothes.” He smiles grotesquely. “If,” I say, holding out my hand, “and only if, you bring back the band.” His smile falters but I can tell he’s considering my offer.

“Fine.” He nods. “You win. I’ll bring them back, but you better be here this Saturday night to perform and your tits better be out.”

“Done. Thank you.” The smile I offer is fake. “And one more favor?” He lifts a brow. “Can you let me tell Clyde about the new plans?”

He grunts, clearly still agitated at the fact that I got my way. His eyes narrow and he points his finger in my face. “Yes, but no more favors or I’m going to start demanding some of my own.”

I don’t respond. I just give a nod of understanding before exiting his office and running back out of the bar. My shoulders sag in relief and I let out a long sigh. A smile breaks across my face as I walk the two short blocks to the train station.

Through the entire ride back to my apartment and my routine of making myself a cup of lavender chamomile tea while drawing a bath, my mind races with how I can bring in more money to save up.

Maybe the extra three nights a week will mean more tips. I visibly frown in the mirror as I brush my hair.

“Be realistic,” I tell myself as I pull my hair back in a slicked-back bun to keep it from getting wet in the bath. The water is perfect, and I slide my foot beneath it after dipping my big toe in to test it. The warmth engulfs me and I close my eyes to try and will myself to relax. I’ve been using my bath time to remind myself to remain positive about ever having enough money to buy Freddy’s, but some nights it just feels impossible. After several minutes, my eyes fly back open and I stare up at the flaking paint on my ceiling. “Yeah,” I say to myself, “you’re gonna need a miracle.”

“Did he call?”

“Who?” I glance over at Matilda.

“You know who.”

“Oh.” I roll my eyes. “No, of course he didn’t. Did you actually think he would?” I grab the tray of muffins she’s handing me and slide them onto the bakery cart.

“Yes,” she says emphatically. “Why wouldn’t he?”

I shake my head half in exasperation, half in humor at the fact that I’m seriously having this conversation with her. “Mati, I say this as no slight to myself,” I clarify, knowing full well how much she hates my self-deprecating jokes. “But he’s literally the kind of guy who looks like he walked off a mega yacht that he owns and was filming a cologne commercial on surrounded by half-naked models. He’s not going to call the coffee shop girl who can’t even make eye contact with him. This isn’t a Hallmark movie.”

She scowls. “For all you know, he’s knitting with his grandma right now and he saves kittens on the weekends. He’s looking for love but in all the wrong places because he just hasn’t met the right woman yet.” She clutches at her heart, her eyes brimming with fake tears like she’s practicing for an audition.

“You’re right.” I chuckle. “But I’m not going to bank on it. That being said, if a man who looked like him ever did ask me out, I’m breaking my not on the first date rule.”

“I mean, duh.” She fans herself and we both burst into laughter, all thoughts about Freddy’s gone for a few minutes.

“Hey, I need your help with something.” I hold back, questioning if I should mention it but the truth is, I really do need her help.

“Yeah, sure. Anything.” She wipes her hands on her apron and leans against the bakery cart. “What’s up?”

“I, uh, I had that talk with Freddy and he did agree to bring the band back.”

“Oh my God!” Her hands shoot upward. “That’s great news.”

“It is, but I had to compromise.” Her excitement fades. “I agreed to the four nights a week which will mean more in tips so that’s good, but I also told him I’d dress sluttier,” I say, using air quotes.

“Eww, was that at his request?” I nod. “Gross fucking piece of shit. What do you need help with, burying his body hopefully?” She smiles at her own comment.

“I need something slutty.”

“At least you got that part right,” she says.

---