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Slowly was just going to have to be enough.
It had to.
As the night wore on, Joey began to gain more confidence in his new role. He balanced trays of drinks, chatted with customers, and collected tips, all while trying to ignore the lingering stares and lewd comments that followed him wherever he went.
Eventually, the clientele began to thin out. As the foggy tendrils of exhaustion began to cloud Joey's mind, it took him a while to realize that the last customer was indeed the last one there. Sleepily, the man got to his feet and left, cheering drunkenly. The remaining girls saw him off, fighting back yawns.
There were no clocks in the club—casino rules, Joey supposed. He checked his phone, and then groaned. Four a.m? Jesus.
"Alright, everyone!" Gina called out, clapping her hands together to draw attention. "It's closing time, so let's get gone! And you—great job tonight, Joey. You'll do well here."
As Joey wiped the sweat from his brow, his body aching and longing for the comfort of his bed, the entrance to the club suddenly swung open. A gust of cold air swept in, momentarily parting the thick smoky haze that filled the dimly lit room.
Marco sauntered in, his presence instantly commanding attention and respect from everyone in the vicinity.
Joey's heart pounded as he watched the imposing figure stride towards him. He could feel the heated gazes of the girls following Marco like a magnet. The air seemed to thicken with anticipation and unspoken tension.
"Hey, kid," Marco said when he reached the bar, his deep voice resonating throughout the room. "I see you've survived your first night."
"It was a piece of cake," Joey replied, trying to sound casual. But, exhausted and rattled, his nerves betrayed him with a slight quiver in his voice.
"Good." Marco leaned on the bar and gestured at the rows of bottles behind Joey. "Give me my usual, yeah?"
"Uh, sure." Joey hesitated for a moment before remembering what he'd made for Marco before he'd left the club. It had only been hours before, and yet it felt like a lifetime ago.
As Joey turned to retrieve the bottle of bourbon, he flicked his gaze up to the mirror that sat above the bar. Behind him, he saw the way that Marco continued to watch him intently.
Marco's gray eyes roamed over Joey's body, dark with… what? Satisfaction? Power? Joey didn't know—and he didn't know if he liked the sensation. He fought the urge to shiver.
"Here you go," Joey said finally, offering the near bourbon to Marco with a hint of trepidation.
"Fast learner," Marco replied, his lips curling into a sly grin. He took the glass and brought it to his lips. With a slow, deliberate sip, he savored the taste, holding Joey's gaze all the while.
"Looks like you've been paying attention," he said, a hint of approval in his voice. "You'll do well here."
As Marco turned away to talk to the girls, his eyes lingered on Joey's for a moment longer, leaving him with a searing, intense gaze that spoke volumes more than words ever could.
Chapter six
Joey
"Doublevodkaontherocks," a gruff voice shouted, barely audible above the pulsating bass of the strip club.
Joey, clad in a tight black tank top that accentuated his lean frame, suppressed a shiver as he poured the drink. He couldn't help but feel uneasy, with the dim lighting casting ominous shadows on the hardened faces that surrounded him. The scent of sweat and lust hung heavy in the air, a potent reminder of the dangerous world he had found himself in.
"Here's your drink," Joey said, trying to keep his voice steady as he handed the glass to the burly man at the bar. He forced a smile, attempting to exude the confidence he had seen in the other servers. It didn't come easily to him, but he knew he needed to adapt if he wanted to survive this new job—and the dangerous people it brought him into contact with.
"About time," the man grumbled, tossing a crumpled bill onto the counter. "You new here?"
"Started just a few days ago," Joey admitted, pocketing the money and wiping down the counter. "Why do you ask?"
"Ah, don't worry about it," the man replied, taking a swig of his drink. "Just never seen such a pretty face around here before."
From barking orders at him tothat?! Who said romance was dead, huh?"Thanks, I guess." Joey tried to brush off the comment, focusing on his work.
"Hey, bartender!" another voice called out, slurred and aggressive. "Get me another damn beer!"
"Coming right up," Joey replied, reaching for a cold bottle from the fridge. As he turned to hand it over, he noticed the man's bloodshot eyes and the way his hands shook, barely able to grip the empty bottle in front of him.
