The godawful smell of rum wafts up out of my glass as the DJ shifts from the low thuds of a house track to something spikier, louder, and my jaw tightens further. Strike two. I try to catch the eye of the girl working the bar—tall, dirty blonde, not one I know—and signal for her to come over.
“Yeah?” A split second passes. Then she smiles at me. Like she’s remembering to turn it on.
My expression doesn’t change either way. “You new?”
The smile evaporates. She’s cute. Skinny, but cute. Beautiful, even. Less camgirl, more runway, long legs and small tits, narrow face and big eyes. But something about her…
The clothes, I realize. Don’t quite fit. Little teal skirt hanging off her hips, cups of her pink corset-thing mostly hollow.
“Yeah,” she says again. Tucks some hair behind her ear. “I’m”—she thinks for another split second—“Diamond.”
“Diamond,” I repeat. One of these days they’re going to run out of gemstones, I think. I hold up my glass. “You poured this?”
She nods, tentative. “Um, yeah. Did…you want another?”
No. “What did I order?”
“Um, a…well whiskey. Neat,” she adds quickly. The glitter on her eyelids winks and flashes as she darts her eyes around.
“And what did you pour me?”
“Captain Morgan?”
“Which is?”
“Rum.” A different voice—lower, firmer. Treasure.
She gives Diamond a quick up and down and jerks her head down the bar. “Try again.”
Diamond nods and skitters away, and Treasure folds her arms and looks at me.
“Can’t have you bullying my girls, Blue.” Her eyes flash with a hint of danger as she collects the disgusting glass of rum and dumps it in the bar sink. “Specially not Di. She’s new.”
I can tell. “Sapphire working tonight?”
Treasure ignores me. She’s staring down the bar at Diamond, who’s staring at the lit-up rack of bottles. Like she’s double-checking her own work.
I stare too.
And then I see it. On Diamond’s reflection, in the mirrored doors of the bar fridges under the counters.
The X. Big, black, angry, on the inside of her hip. Where the too-big miniskirt is sagging.
Treasure’s gaze shifts seamlessly back to me, and we lock eyes for a split second.
“Like I said,” Treasure speaks slow and clear. “Diamond’s new.”
For a moment, I forget about Sapphire. “How new?”
“Turned up late last week. Finally got her in good enough shape to work.Justbartending,” Treasure clarifies. Her eyes flick back to Diamond, who’s now pouring a thin stream of Four Roses into a fresh glass, a look of concentration puckering her eyebrows. “I’m not here to retraumatize anyone, right? Consent is queen.”
Amen to that. “So she was working for him.”
Treasure snorts. “If you can call it that. Apparently thought she was being offered a modeling job, poor thing.” I glance back to Diamond, her mile-long legs, and yeah, I can see that. “And then next thing you know…”
Next thing you know she’s got Hook’s fucking brand on her. X marks the spot.
And Jesus, I hate it.
