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“Let’s just say that he isn’t dead, but you don’t have to worry about him retaliating.”
“I never said anything about him beingdead,” I reply, startled that he’d even bring that up.
Akim shrugs. “Well, the point is that he’s not. So we can drop it now,” he responds with a stubborn, insistent tone.
“Okay, fine,” I reply, but I’m not sure how I feel about all this.
I don’t have the chance to dig into it further because we arrive at my car a few moments later. I suspect Akim wouldn’t give me any further details anyway.
We stand silently for a few seconds, and I try to look into his eyes to extract some truth from him. What is his expression telling me? Do I have a right to distrust him?
Should I be associating with him at all?
I open my car door, but his hand catches it, and he leans in. “What do you do for work?” he asks.
Weird question.I thought he was going to kiss me.
I wrinkle my nose at him. “Why are you asking me that?”
“Just humor me. What do you do for work?”
I sigh. “I’m a receptionist at a salon. Why? Are you trying to size me up to see how worthy I am to hang out with you and your shady rich friends?” I ask, growing irritated. Why won’t he let me leave?
“No, that’s not it at all. And Luka isnotmy friend, not in the slightest. He’s an annoying acquaintance who has no boundaries or social awareness at all,” he replies. He sounds sincere, at least, and I figure there’s no genuine harm in talking to him about my job as long as he doesn’t try to find me.
I like him, but I need to be careful.
“So, why do you want to know then?” I ask.
“I want to offer you a job at the club here,” he replies without a hint of sarcasm.
“Why do you want me to work there? You almost banned me for life last night,” I ask, feeling curious but wary of his proposition.
“You’re pretty, and we need a pretty girl around here. It’s good for business. Plus, you seem personable, so I think you’d make a great bartender. I have someone doing it already, but he’s too slow at it, and I don’t really like him, to be honest,” he explains.
He’s only an inch away from me now, and that same pesky sense of arousal has awoken in me again, but I can’t just give in to my impulses whenever I want. I have to make him want me.
“What’s the pay like?” I ask. I am genuinely curious, and if working for Akim gets me out of the salon I’ve been at for five years, I’d be more than happy to at least try. It’s been so stressful there lately, and I’ve heard rumors that the owner is planning to sell the building anyway. At this point, I could be thinking ahead.
“I can give you fifty an hour,” he replies, and at first, I’m sure I heard him incorrectly.
“Did you say fifteen an hour?” I ask.
“No, fifty. Five-zero. How does that sound? You can start on Monday,” he replies.
“That sounds amazing. I’d love to,” I say, feeling a combination of anxiety and excitement bubbling in my chest.
“Okay, no problem. I’ll make sure everything is ready for you. Try to be here by seven-thirty,” he says, and he turns around to go back into the club.
I stand in the cold for another moment or two, trying to make sense of what just happened. Any logical business owner would have had me removed from the building forever after what I did, but he wants to hire me? How can he trust me?
The prospect of making that much per hour is almost too good to be true. I could move out of the apartment that I share with Regan, maybe even replace my car…
Okay, okay, Delilah, don’t get ahead of yourself.
I realize that I need to keep my wits about me when it comes to Akim. He seems to keep bad company, whether he likes them or not. That Luka guy gives me such a horrible feeling in my gut. If I had to spend significant time around him, I don’t know if I could keep the job for very long.
My trepidation isn’t enough to drown out my excitement, though. The whole way home, I’m envisioning a high-rise apartment downtown with new appliances and maybe even some natural light. I’d be making almost as much as a doctor makes to shake up fancy drinks at the bar.
