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As Joey found where everything was stored, Marco watched him intently, a predatory glint in his eye. Joey's hands trembled as he tried to steady himself behind the bar. The dimly lit room felt suffocating, and the scent of cigar smoke and sweat clung to the air like a second skin. He couldn't help but feel exposed, his vulnerability on full display.
Despite that, he eventually found the right sort of glass and the right bottle. Joey's hands trembled ever so slightly as he poured a neat bourbon for Marco, his fingers struggling to maintain their steadiness. Behind the bar, he fought to control his nerves, aware that Marco's watchful eyes were fixed upon him. The dimly lit room heightened the intensity of the moment, casting long shadows across Joey's face.
Marco raised the glass to his lips, his strong hands encircling the crystal vessel with a sense of both command and finesse. Joey's gaze locked onto Marco's Adam's apple, mesmerized by the rhythmic bobbing as he took a sip. The sound of his swallowing echoed in the hushed atmosphere, a subtle symphony that sent a surge of desire coursing through Joey's veins.
The air crackled with anticipation as Joey stood transfixed, caught in the magnetic pull of Marco's presence. There was an undeniable power in the way he held himself, exuding confidence and authority with every move.
"Good boy," Marco's voice resonated deeply, a low murmur that sent a shiver down Joey's spine. The words, simple yet laden with unspoken implications, held Joey captive. It was both praise and a subtle reminder of the dynamics at play between them.
With a fluid motion, Marco rose from his seat. He gestured at one of the club's women, and then turned back to Joey. "I'll leave you to it."
"You're going?" A spike of fear stabbed through Joey's chest.
As much as he despised Marco, as much as he thought the other man was a scummy asshole… he was a familiar face. The idea of Marco leaving him made something cold shoot through Joey's veins.
"I'll be back at the end of the shift," Marco said. He looked at his watch, shaking up his sleeve to reveal a taut, muscular forearm. "Time is money, kid—you better get used to that."
Joey watched as Marco said something into the ear of the woman he'd summoned, and then, just like that, he turned and left Joey alone in this den of wolves.
Chapter five
Joey
"Heythere,"asultryvoice called out, breaking through Joey's haze of anxiety. He glanced up to see a beautiful woman approaching him, her body clad in a barely-there outfit that seemed to defy gravity. Her hair cascaded in luxurious waves down her back, framing a face that could have been sculpted by the gods themselves.
If Joey was into women, this would have been at least one bright spot to his day. Instead, he just felt more glum. "Hello?"
The woman offered Joey a warm smile as she extended a hand to him. "I'm Gina. I'll show you around."
"Joey," he replied hesitantly, taking her hand. Despite anything, he felt a sense of comfort in her firm grip, like a drowning man scrabbling for something to grasp on to. "Thanks. I, uh... I'm new here."
"I can tell," she said with a playful wink. "You've got that deer-in-headlights look about you. But don't worry, I'll help you settle in."
"Really?" Joey asked, his eyes widening with gratitude. "Thank you."
"Of course, hon. We're all in this together."
"I doubt that," Joey scowled.
His remark was lost under the thumping bass. Gina didn't hear. "Let's get started, shall we?"
She led him around the stage and into the back of the club, forcing her way through the door markedStaff Only. "First things first, this is the dressing room."
She pushed open a door to reveal a small, cluttered space filled with racks of glittering costumes and mirrors framed by cheap vanity lights. The scent of perfume and hairspray hung heavily in the air, and Joey couldn't help but feel slightly out of place amidst the feminine chaos.
Gina led Joey through the backstage area, maneuvering through the bustling staff members and the constant hum of activity. The pulsating music and the electrifying energy seemed to drown out any further objections Joey might have had. He felt like a pawn in a chaotic game, swept along by forces beyond his control.
As they reached the end of a narrow corridor, Gina pushed open another door, revealing a small, dimly lit room. It held a single bed with worn sheets, a small window, and a threadbare curtain that offered a modicum of privacy. The atmosphere of the room mirrored Joey's mood—dreary, devoid of warmth or comfort.
With a heavy sigh, Gina gestured toward the humble accommodations. "This is where you'll be staying," she said, her voice laced with sympathy. "There's a shower down the hall, if you want. It's small and kind of gross, but sometimes you just need to freshen up, you know?"
Joey's heart sank. This place felt like a prison cell—a stark reminder of the predicament he had found himself in. The realization that this was now his reality, his new home, weighed heavily on his shoulders.
"I can't go home?" Joey muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Gina shook her head. "Bossman said you were staying here."
Joey looked at the narrow window above the bed. Maybe…
