Page 33 of Ruined
CHAPTER 9
Haley
Flat ironing my wavy hair was a task I was never thrilled to do. Whenever I could, I tucked it into a fancy bun, arguing that I needed it out of the way for my performances, but everyone knew that was a lie.
There was a knock on my door. I finished burning the current strand into a straight line, then opened it.
“Hi,” Mel said.
We were around the same age, though Mel hadn’t worked here as long as I had. “Come in,” I said. I gestured at the bed while I took a seat at the vanity again. Mel was our resident body painter. Sometimes that meant she painted herself into a mural, and other times, it simply meant that she dripped paint or candle wax all over her body, sometimes even a guest’s body, if they wished for a more sensual experience.
She scratched her arms, looking around. Her dark red hair shimmered in the light, her bright blue eyes vibrant. I went back to flat ironing my hair.
“You’re friends with Aldrich, right?” she asked. I nodded, keeping my eyes on her in the mirror. “What’s he like?”
“He’s…” It was hard to say the truth without sounding completely negative. We weren’t supposed to talk about the members in unsatisfactory terms, but I had never heard of a server ratting out another in that regard. Still, I wanted to respect Aldrich, while also telling Mel the truth. “He can be hard to work with sometimes. But he’s generous. And you have to be prepared for him to be a little too—” What was the word I was looking for? “—excited sometimes.” Mel nodded deeply. “Why?”
“This is going to sound dumb,” she said, a reluctant grimace stretching across her face, “but I was kind of hoping that I could come up with some sort of agreement with him, or someone like him, you know? His wife just died, right? I could fill that place for him. Do whatever he needs.”
Fill that place for him? That sounded like she wanted to date him.
“You mean like marry him?”
Mel shrugged. “I want to get rid of my debt, but I still want to paint. I never would have signed that stupid contract if I had known how hard it would be to work it off. I think I prefer being a starving artist to all of this bullshit.” I knew the feeling. Most, if not all of us, had signed our contracts when we were in a place of need. When it was hard to think straight. The Dahlia District seemed like paradise then. “I thought I’d be an actual painter while I was here, you know? Paint portraits of the members and the dancers. That’s how Dahlia sold it to me. I never thought I’d be a physical canvas for splatter art.”
How frustrating was that to be told you could live your dream and even get paid for it, only to be made into a model for members to gawk at? Mel sighed, her blue eyes dull as she stared off into space. I had never asked another server about breaking the rules, but something possessed me to ask her.
“Have you ever gotten away with it?” I asked. I finished in a whisper: “You know. That stuff we’re not supposed to do.”
I wasn’t sure if the live stream of the Greenhouse had audio, or if Dahlia secretly listened to us. You could never be too sure.
Mel perked up. “Yes. Why do you ask?”
There were so many details I wanted to know. Did she do it in the Terrariums? Did she do it on her time off, away from the Dahlia District? But I couldn’t bring myself to ask. I didn’t want to be tempted by the answers.
But I could be honest about the reason I was asking.
“Lucas,” I offered. “That new guest. With hazel eyes.”
I left it at that. I didn’t want to admit that I was curious about him. “He’s not interested in me. Or any of us,” Mel shrugged, “except for you.”
I blushed, then turned back to the mirror. I finished straightening the last few strands in silence. Then I touched up my makeup.
“I thought you and Aldrich had hit it off,” I said.
She shook her head. “He was flirting with me to piss you off. He dismissed me as soon as he could. Said he wasn’t interested.”
Ah. Maybe Mel gave off the experienced vibe.
“I can reintroduce you to Aldrich,” I said. “Give you a chance to get to know him.”
“Really?” Mel asked, a hint of bubbliness leaking into her tone.
“Sure. Why not?” I guessed it was strange to do that. We usually had to be competitive with each other when it came to the members. “But,” I turned to face her, “he’s not the nicest person. He doesn’t always listen to boundaries.”
Mel’s expression was unimpressed. “None of them do.”
Yes, that was true to some extent, but not quite like Aldrich. But Mel seemed confident enough. She must’ve known how to handle herself.
