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“Can I get you a shot?” I say with a grin.
Our relationship is better now. She worked her damned hardest to prove me wrong when I said she couldn’t help anyone on the inside. To be honest, she’s not been doing anything else. I don’t know the details, but I know that women and men who come here to work without knowing what this place truly is always seem to find a way to get out. Valerie keeps complaining to her goons about the turnover and how even the threats are not enough anymore. Whatever Tanya is doing, it’s working.
And because the Empress was clear about my role as an independent observer, I can’t help her outright. Secretly, though, I do whatever the hell I want.
“With a drop of cranberry juice, as usual,” Tanya replies.
I pour her drink and watch the blood-red drop dissolve into swirls. This cocktail, if I can call it that, has become our tether. She comes at the end of every night and has a shot of it. Only one.
It’s a ritual of sorts. After she downs the shot, she always sighs, looks me in the eyes, and shoots me a sad half-smile. It’s like every night she tells me, ‘ah, the life we could’ve had if it wasn’t for this crappy situation.’
Three months later
“You have to be careful. The cocktails are so strong in this place. I thought it was just tea, but I can barely remember anything from last week.” One of the men in the booth closest to the bar is talking animatedly to his friends.
I’ve finally figured out why Tanya’s mood has been improving. She’s found a way to drug her customers, making sure they don’t actually have sex with her.
But the stories of blackout-drunk clients have been more and more, and it’s only a matter of time before one reaches the ears of either Valerie or Penelope.
I can’t have that. It will either hurt Tanya after they realize it’s only the men who book her, or I will take the blame as the one mixing the drinks. Either way, they shouldn’t know.
I glance at my watch, then in the direction of the private rooms. Tanya is entertaining in the East Asian Room tonight, which means she is going to go up and most likely do her drugging routine.
Half an hour later, she comes out, holding a man’s arm. He’s short, old, and bald, a combination that always makes my stomach turn in the context of Lavender customers. He could be her father.
Shoving thoughts of him on top of her away, I text Brad, one of our bouncers.
Ben:I’ve mixed a new drink. Come try it with the boss. Bring your brother too.
In five minutes, the bouncers Brad and Chad, and Valerie are gathered at my bar, their eyes glittering with excitement. I’m putting my Chemistry degree to good use in another effort to help Tanya from the sidelines.
If they’re all here sampling my latest concoction, they’re not in the office looking at the CCTV and noticing how she’s not engaging in anything with her customers.
Tonight I’ve mixed a citrus iced-tea cocktail in a pitcher. It should keep them occupied for a bit.
“Mmm.” Valerie closes her eyes in pleasure as she takes a sip. “This is divine. We should put it on the menu.”
“Isn’t it too sweet?” Chad replies after he tries it too.
“Can you mind the bar? I really need a piss,” I say to Brad as I push a glass closer to him. He’s the worst of them all, an all-around asshole with a god complex.
He rolls his eyes. “You got five minutes. It’s busy.”
I give him a thumbs-up, a sheepish grin painting my lips. They think I’m harmless. That’s what the Empress told Penelope, after all. None of them know who I truly am and what I can do with the chemicals in the cleaning cupboard. I like it that way. Because they don’t doubt that I’m going to the bathroom, when in fact I take the stairs up and let myself into the office. I made a copy of the master key years ago, when one night Chad was a bit too deep in his cups.
The big wooden desk in the middle is as messy as ever, papers scattered on top of the keyboard. I walk around and lean over to look at the screen. As usual, it’s showing the security camera feeds from every private room. I don’t touch anything and try not to cringe when I witness at least two rooms where something non-consensual is going on. The view of Tanya’s room is a sight for sore eyes. She’s lying next to the seemingly sleeping short bald man. His pale ass is on full display, while she’s fully clothed and playing on her phone. Safe. Maybe bored.
Good.
Having seen what I wanted to see, I leave the office. I cast a quick glance inside, making sure I haven’t disturbed anything, and then lock the door.
When I go down, the three assholes are still drinking. Valerie pours herself another glass with a happy smile.
“I think you should call it Orange Sunset,” she says to me after I’m behind the bar again, as if I wasn’t just judging the state of her office.
“It doesn’t have any oranges, though,” I reply. Her suggestion is as basic as she is, but I guess we can’t all be creative.
“It’s orange, though, and reminds me of a sunset,” she explains.
