CHAPTER 5
Haley
There’s this fascination with the top percent of our economic population, as if people at the level of wealth are untouchable. They don’t have hard days, or even mediocre days, except that they do. They’re like us. Except that when it comes to those bad days, they have convenient ways to forget about their troubles.
The billionaire members came to the Dahlia District to forget. To indulge. To pretend like nothing existed beyond the walls of our building. Here, they were worshipped. They never had any complaints.
Except, of course, men like Aldrich. He patted his pocket. He only did that when he had his knife stowed, and he was itching to play.
“Come on, Hales,” he said. “Let’s make up. Let me prove that you can trust me.”
The problem with Aldrich’s fascination with knives was that it was often paired with something going wrong in his business, which was often lately.
I glanced down at the scab still on my breast. We were encouraged to find ways to decline the members rather than saying ‘no.’ This wasn’t always my strong suit though, especially when it came to Aldrich, a member I had known for years.
“Let’s try something else,” I said. “How about a drinking game?”
“Are you mocking me?” He threw his hands down, smacking the chair underneath him. “Mocking me, Haley Ramsey?”
Which was worse? Hearing him say that stupid nickname, or hearing him hiss my actual name?
Mel, our resident body painter, was waiting against the wall, her skin painted to resemble a giant orchid. Her dark red hair was tucked into a low, loose bun.
“Mel,” I said, waving her over. “Can you get us two shots of vodka?”
She curtsied and hurried off to the bar. Like a child, Aldrich crossed his arms.
“You don’t trust me anymore,” he said.
Why would I, after what he did?
It was hard to keep my mouth shut. The best response, if I wanted to keep him as one of my regular club members, was to lie. But I didn’t have that in me. No one should be off the hook for forcing another person’s boundaries open. Not even billionaires.
“You broke my skin,” I said.
“Barely.”
I pointed at the scab. “Enough to make me bleed and scab.”
“You always scab,” he huffed. That was true; the difference was that those were pencil marks compared to what I was dealing with now.
Mel came back with the shots. He took one off of the tray and put it on the side table next to him, and right as I was about to reach for the other, he took that one too.
“Why don’t you take this one… What was your name?” He leaned in closer to her, as if scrutinizing the paint on her breasts would make her name magically appear there.
“Mel,” she said.
“Mel. How delightful,” he said. He handed her the shot. “Haley will get her own. Won’t you, Haley?”
As part of our service, we had to pretend like these transgressions didn’t bother us. Dahlia thought it was a better service if we let them behave how they wanted. She reminded us that they had to save face all day. Poor little billionaires. At least in the Dahlia District, they could let loose. Lucky us.
I had this wild theory that some of these guests wanted to be reprimanded, to be told ‘no,’ but Dahlia didn’t allow us to test that theory. Unless the guests paid for domination in one of the Terrariums, saying ‘no’ was ultimately bad for business.
I should have been used to Aldrich’s immature tendencies by now. But it didn’t get any less irritating. I forced a smile. “Of course,” I said.
I went to the bar. Glancing over my shoulder, I confirmed that the two of them had already taken their shots, so I got us another round. While I waited for the bartender to shake the shots with ice, a man stood next to me. Even with the sour scent of alcohol reeking from the bar, the smell of burning rosewood unmistakable.
Tall and dark. The hint of green in his eyes still vibrant in the shadowy atmosphere of the club.
