AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You get out. Or don’t. In your case, I guess it doesn’t really matter.” She seems to finally snap out of her trance and pulls her T-shirt over her head. Then she moves to the next item of clothing and while I stand there, unsure of what to say, she gets fully dressed and slams the locker shut.
“But they’re hurting you. You have to tell someone.” My brows knit in concern.
“The only ‘someone’ who can help me was betrayed by his wife and has to deal with his son being a hostage every day of his life. I’m on my own.” Tanya’s words are sharp like daggers. Her tired demeanor is now replaced by fiery anger. What did I say that triggered her so much? I don’t understand.
I open my mouth to reply, but she rolls her eyes, shushing me.
“You can’t help me. Even if you do, what about all the others who are pimped out every night? To the scum we now call customers? Can you help them all? A nobody that couldn’t even bartend properly?”
“I—”
“I didn’t think so.”
She walks past me in a hurry, every limping step she takes radiating pain and anger.
Should I tell her about my background? Should I plead with the Arcana Empress to align herself with Damien and overthrow Penelope?
No. This is some gang politics I’ve never gotten involved in. And I never will. I’m a chemist, for fuck’s sake. A scientist. Not a politician, or HR manager, or a common criminal. I don’t deal with people.
The next day, Tanya’s gorgeous hair is cropped to a strict bob. She wears a massive diamond ring on her finger and a ton of makeup to hide her bruises and scratches.
Before the working night begins, I call her from behind the bar. She comes reluctantly, as if the last few years I’ve been working with someone completely different.
“You didn’t answer me yesterday,” I say and quickly continue before she has a chance to roll her eyes or turn around and leave. “Why don’t you just leave?”
“I told you why.” Her voice is monotone. No emotion.
“Yeah, the others, I get it. But you could get them help from outside somehow. You’re not actually helping anyone from inside here, are you?”
She gives me a scathing look, which I choose to ignore. I’m angering her again, but why can’t she be straight with me? I’ve always been honest with her about how I feel about things. Not about my past, but still.
I dare one more sentence. “Aren’t you only getting hurt to keep the guilt at bay?”
“What guilt?” The two words simmer with rage. I feel like I’ve stepped on a landmine. How do I take my foot off it without exploding myself to bits?
I want the old Tanya back. The one without this cold, angry side. The one without bruises and bloody nails.
“Forget it,” I say. I try to sound like I don’t care, but I probably fail.
“Stop asking stupid questions,” Tanya says through gritted teeth. Her low, mean voice makes my stomach knot.
“Message received.” I give her a dismissing smile, but inside, it’s like an animal has clawed at my guts. It fucking hurts.
I have to do something. I can’t let this happen to her. And yeah, I should be thinking about all the others, but let’s face it, I haven’t spent enough time with anyone else here to care.
I wait for her to leave the bar area and make sure there are no standing orders. Then I go up to the office. If I confront Penelope about this, maybe she will back down and let Tanya be a barman or a floor manager, without all the extra work. Without the prostitution.
The thought of other men touching Tanya’s supple white skin, hurting her, forcing themselves on her, makes me want to tear this place down. I stomp on my way up, pure anger driving me forward. I don’t even have a plan about what to say, and if my head were clear, I would have perhaps seen this whole thing as a mistake.
A minute later, I’m already pushing the office door open, ready to let Penelope have it. But she’s not there. Instead, her twin sister Valerie is sitting on the chair. She looks tiny behind the massive wooden desk in the middle. The room has no windows, so the yellow lights at the top give it a cheap look.
Valerie looks at me with dark glittering eyes through her fake eyelashes. With her bleached hair and pumped lips, she seems like she’s the one who’s supposed to be in the private rooms, not Tanya. I look at her, expecting her to say something first. I don’t know how I think that, considering I’m the one who barged into her office.
She narrows her eyes, then speaks slowly. “Customer or staff?”
“What?” I don’t understand her question.
“Who got our stone-faced bartender so angry?” Her lips curl up in a smile.
