Page 3 of All Your Hate

The club’s packed again. It has been for the past few weekends and I see the reason for it.

The large group of guys that have consistently taken over the VIP booths are back again.

“Sorry, I’m late,” I say as I rush to help get the crowd down. Stef waves it off and gives me a smile of understanding. They both know about Summer and I’m lucky they’re supportive enough to not give me shit for being late or needing to leave early for her.

“Did you manage to slip past Jackson?” Stef asks.

Our boss isn’t the patient type. Well, he is if he’s being swayed with drugs or sex. Then he has all the time in the world for you. I’m not willing to give him either of those things, so I do my best to avoid him.

“Thankfully, I didn’t see him.”

Our conversation is cut short as a large man in a neat-fitting suit saunters up to the bar, looking me up and down as he rests one elbow on it. Great, I've been here for what, one minute? And the sleazeballs are already trying their chances.

“What can I get you?” I give him my best customer service voice and smile.

“We ordered drinks and still don’t have them.” His Russian accent is just as heavy as the alcohol on his breath.

I bite my tongue and nod politely. It’s hardly my fault they’re still waiting, but I have to act like I care. “Sorry about that. What was it you ordered? I can sort it out for you right now.”

He scoffs at me as he runs a hand over his overly-gelled blond hair and I bite my tongue harder. “Your service is terrible. You expect me to keep waiting? Your boss should hire someone that actually knows their way around a bar rather than fill it with pretty hookers that only know how to prop it up.”

“If it’s that bad then why don’t you go somewhere else?” I jeer, my nails digging into the bartop so I don’t dig them into him.

Kara comes up next to me, putting a manicured hand on my shoulder as she gently pushes me back. “We really are sorry. I’ll make sure you get your drinks right away and I’ll throw in a round of complimentary shots.”

He stares straight past her, towards me and a cold shiver runs down my spine. His eyes linger on my hair for an uncomfortably long second before he mutters, “Fine.”

“Seriously, Wynter?” Kara whispers harshly as he walks away. “You don’t want to get on any of those guy’s bad sides. Plus they're friends with Jackson, so don’t piss them off.”

“They’re just a bunch of entitled creeps. How bad can they possibly be?”

Rather than answer my question, she goes to fix the guys' drinks and I follow suit, serving another customer so she doesn’t tell me off again. I don’t need her acting like she’s my mom tonight.

“Why is she so worried about them?” I bluntly ask Stef as I open the mini fridge next to her to grab some cranberry juice for my customer’s cocktail. She almost drops the bottle of scotch she’s pouring as I accidentally startle her.

“Keep your voice down!” she whispers loudly, then leans her head in close and asks, “Don’t you think it’s odd? They’ve been coming here for a month now and in that same month we’ve lost three girls.”

We’ve had a couple of new hires recently who turned up for a few shifts and never showed up again. I assumed they just didn’t want to work here.

“What are you talking about? Lost?” I take the bottle from her once she's finished and place it back on the top shelf that she always struggles to reach. She’s barely five foot whereas I’m close to six four in my heels.

“There's a rumor that they’re mafia.”

“Mafia?That shit’s just in books and movies.” I look over at the guys again and don’t see anyone that looks like the stereotypical old mafia type. All I see is a bunch of rich pricks.

Another customer pulls my attention away and I get back to work, but Stef’s words play over in my head.

I'm sure they’re not actual mafia, but they’ve been showing up here enough to make me think they’ve got money to burn. As long as I bite my tongue, I can probably squeeze some good tips out of them.

From here I can see their lack of boundaries that I’ll have to be wary of. I’m sure everyone working the floor would be ecstatic for the tips if they weren’t so handsy.

I only work behind the bar, but Onyx makes most of its money from being a strip club. I’ve heard rumors that some guys have paid for sex here, but no one’s allowed to talk about that. I don’t want to push my luck so I keep my mouth shut and my head down.

“Wait, why are you working tonight, Stef? I thought it was Evie’s shift?”

She answers me as she opens the register, “Apparently Jackson fired her because she called in sick again. I’m picking up her shifts until he can find someone to replace her.”

“He fired her because she’s sick?” I knew he was strict, but that’s just harsh.

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