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“Yeah, maybe it’s better not to think too hard about it then,” I reply, feeling my stomach sink as I realize that Luka is more than likely correct about Delilah’s origins.
For the whole rest of the night, I find myself analyzing Delilah’s facial features to see if they match Luka’s at all. They look completely different, even down to the shape of their eyes. If I thought too hard about it, I’d say that they probably have vastly different ancestry.
Even still, any implication that Luka is correct haunts me.
I begin to pay more attention to the way that Delilah speaks to me. Could she be using her charm to force my guard down? What’s the possibility that she’s in on it?
My feelings about her swim discontentedly in my stomach throughout the night. I want to ask her something that will make me feel better, to erase any doubt. But there’s nothing I can ask without giving away my suspicion or insulting her character.
I guess I’ll have to just trust her.
10
Delilah
After having such a personal, deep conversation with Akim last night, I feel more at ease about his organized crime involvement, even if it means turning a blind eye to it. He assured me that I would never be implicated if things went south for him; I’m just a cute little bartender who loves my job and keeps my head down.
I can play that role as long as I keep a healthy distance from Akim.
That’s easier said than done, but with more money, I’ve been able to distract myself by indulging in things that don’t involve having sex with a mafia boss. I’ve gotten my hair and nails done weekly and spent more money on overpriced coffee this month than I have in my entire life combined.
My lifestyle isn’t the only thing that’s changed. Since I’ve been making so much money, I’ve started experimenting with clothes that I never thought I’d be able to wear confidently. I practically redid my entire wardrobe with my first paycheck, and now my closet looks more like Regan’s than ever. She doesn’t know about it, and I think that she’d be jealous if she did.
In fact, I wasn’t even worried about Regan until she decided to bring a group of her old college friends out to the club to say hi.
When I see her walk in, I’m immediately flustered, nearly dropping a glass I was cleaning. And when I see seven more girls walk in behind her, I’m horrified. It’s like Elliot all over again, but perhaps worse. She’s going to shine a spotlight on me so bright and loud that every single person at Agave will know who I am.
So much for keeping a low profile.
Regan glances around the main club area looking for me, and she completely looks over me before she realizes that I’m behind the bar. I’m sure she thought I’d be grinding on customers on the dance floor. She still doesn’t believe I make this much by just bartending.
When she spots me, her eyes widen, and she scans me from head to toe as she walks up with her posse. “Delilah! When did you get so bold? I’ve never even seen you wear a low-cut shirt,” she exclaims, utterly bewildered and probably a bit jealous. “This isreallynot like you.”
I shrug, trying to ignore the sea of stares I’m getting from Regan’s group. “I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to fit into the club scene better. Besides, I get better tips when I look like this,” I reply, trying as hard as I can to dispel the tension.
“Does your boss tell you that you have to dress like that?” she asks, pointing to the clingy crop top I’m wearing that shows off my belly ring.
“No, Regan, I’m an adult woman, and I chose to dress this way,” I reply, sensing that she’s implying that I’m somehow doing somethingextrafor this job.
That’s in the past. I’m not having sex with Akim anymore.
Regan leans onto the bar, taking on a condescending demeanor. “Come on, Delilah. I thought you had more self-respect. And when did you start wearing extensions and fake lashes? Who even are you?” She reaches over the bar and brushes her hand across my hair, shaking her head.
Regan’s friends are soaking in the drama from behind her. Some of them, in anticipation of a cat fight, have their phones out and are recording our interaction.
“Hey! Don’t touch the staff!” shouts Rurik from the far side of the bar. He gets up from his seat and trudges over, and I see Regan’s eyes fill with fear and embarrassment as she slinks away from me.
“Rurik, you don’t have to do all that. I can handle it, I promise,” I say to him. Of course, I’m secretly basking in the power I wield over Regan and her annoying sorority sisters.
“Are you sure, sweetheart? I can have them removed if they’re bothering you,” Rurik replies, motioning towards the girls.
“No, that isn’t necessary,” I reply, seeing Regan growing uncomfortable as the scene drags on.
“Wow, are you fucking this guy or something? Jesus, it was just a joke,” Regan stammers, backpedaling on her attempt to embarrass me in front of her friends.
“That’s it. All of you need to get out,” Rurik barks, watching them all cower at the sound of his voice overtaking the music.
Regan looks at Rurik, then at me, with shock in her eyes. I had always known that nobody had ever told Regannoin her entire life, but seeing her response in real-time is more satisfying than I could have ever imagined it would be.
