Page 44 of Of Mercury and Mist

If I met him in my dreams again, I could safely ask. And maybe get some semblance of truth from the man. For example, why was accidentally picking up the wrong item such a major offense? Micha, and then Josiah, had cut me off every time I’d tried to ask. They honestly believed I was a thief, and it was frustrating. The only things I was guilty of was being forgetful and then sneaking around.

I settled on a short, tight red dress that highlighted my boobs and made my butt look good before tossing on some ankle boots. Being that it was a higher-class joint, I didn’t want to come across like I was trying too hard and instead wanted to look comfortable but also like I would fit right in. Since I’d never been inside Angels, this took some guess work, and I had to trust my imagination.

After putting my hair up into a messy-but-not-too-messy bun and slapping some makeup on my face, I drove to the club.

The building was unassuming until one walked indoors. The walls were white and shiny and the ceiling painted sky-blue with poofy material molded into clouds. Neon pink strips of light lined the floors, giving the ceiling a lavender tint in patches. The decor seemed like it should have been tacky, but it was done so well and with such high-quality materials the effect was elegant and understated.

The receptionist that greeted me was wrapped in a white patent leather mini dress, with her long hair pulled back into a super tight ponytail. She was pretty, but brusque when I greeted her and told her why I was there.

“Right this way, ma’am,” the woman said, opening a door. She punched a couple buttons on her tablet and a nearly identical woman stepped out, taking her place.

Silently following her, I tried to take in all the sights as she rushed forward. It was a wonder she could move as fast as she did, stuffed like a sausage into her dress. The material of my skirt was digging into my upper thighs uncomfortably and I didn’t want my first impression to be one full of bruises all over my legs and me limping across the floor.

“Hey, can you slow down a little, I can’t walk that fast,” I called out to her. I swore I always ended up in too tight clothing.

She stopped, glanced at me, and proceeded forward a bit slower. “You have mobility issues?” she inquired, staring at my legs with suspicion. “Are your legs useful or not? You must be able to walk to work here.”

“No! I’m just wearing a tight dress.” I wanted to punch her over the stupid questions. I needed this job and now I was concerned I’d be entering another difficult workspace. They didn’t expect you to be an Olympic runner in five-inch stilettos, did they?

“I get around just fine,” I muttered. “It's not me that’s the problem.”

The woman stepped to the side in front of a thick wooden door. “My name is Lisa, and I was your hostess until this very moment. We have an unexpected guest today—the owner, and he will be interviewing you next.”

I lifted a hand up in confusion and she blinked at me before she turned, opening the door revealing a sumptuous office. “Sir, this is Ashley,” she announced.

“How did you know my name?” I turned to the woman.

“Facial recognition.” Lisa said. “Thank you for allowing me to be of service to you.” She left and I directed my attention forward, happy to be rid of the obnoxious woman.

A massive man covered with ink sat behind an executive style desk, his light blond hair pushed back from his forehead to reveal shaved sides. “Turn around slowly,” he ordered me.

I did as he asked, lifting my arms slightly before dropping them and facing him again.

He lifted an iPad and glanced at the screen. “Ashley Smith, age thirty. Manhattan resident, both parents living in Florida. No siblings. Criminal record.”

Taking a deep breath, I glanced around. His space looked like a lawyer’s office, not the illicit den of a strip club owner, with all the books and artwork. It reminded me of Micha or Josiah’s office.

“I’m Matthew and initially, I’ll give you your assignments. I’m assuming you’ve never worked in a similar establishment?” He continued to eye me. “Don’t mind Lisa, we’re still working out some of the bugs.”

“I haven’t.” His last sentence registered suddenly. “What do you mean?”

He ignored my question. “Why do you want to work here?”

“I need the money and my roommate’s friend suggested it.”

“Her name?” He dragged his finger down the device, scrolling.

“Kayla. I don’t know her last name.”

Matthew sat back, folding his hands together. “You’ve got some balls, coming here for work. I’ll give you that.”

My gaze snapped to his. “I... she just suggested it; I don’t really know her. I’m going to leave,” I mumbled.

As I went to go, he stopped me with his voice. “Ashley, you don’t have to leave. The problem isn’t with her.”

I faced him again. “There’s a problem with me?” I didn’t exercise much, at least not on purpose. Walking around the city so frequently had been enough, I’d thought. Until now. “I’m not going to join a gym just because you don’t like how I look.”

Matthew chuckled and shook his head. “So naive. You’re fine. You remind a little of my wife. Just don’t cause any issues—it's a small community.”

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