Loving You Differently

Six

Aria Adkins

Vice was hectic. The music blares loudly, a mix of popular pop and hip-hop songs reverberating around the building. Bright, neon colored strobe lights bounce wildly around the dark room and illuminate the faces of drunken, carefree patrons.

I'm three hours into my four hour shift and my body is most definitely paying the price for it. My feet are killing me, my entire body is pouring sweat, and I'm sure my makeup looks disastrous—but I could care less, because so far I've made a total of $150 in tips tonight.

I was right about the upper level of Vice; the people that reserve seats up here do have money, and they aren't shy about the impressive length of their drinking tabs or casually sliding me a twenty dollar bill while unapologetically giving me patronizing smirks.

But like I said—I could care less about the exhaustion wracking my body or the judgement stitched on the faces of these uppity fuckers, because I'm finally making money. And I'm happy as hell about it.

Currently, I'm stood behind the bar closing out the tab of an overgrown frat boy that's been flirting since he walked through the front door.

I'm counting out his change when he reaches a hand towards me and latches onto my wrist. I freeze and calmly glance down at his sloppy, yet iron-clad grip.

"What time do you get off? I've got a room booked at the Marriott tonight, you should stop by," he shouts over the music, his eyes dilated and his words slurring.

I curl my lip in disgust. "Are you fond of that hand?" I ask him.

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion before letting out a loud, shaky laugh. "What, you're really gonna play hard to get? I can walk outside right now and find a cheap whore that looks just like you roaming the streets."

I slowly and calmly set the small wad of bills in my right hand down. Reaching out, I grab onto his arm and pry his fingers off of my wrist and snarl out, "Be sure to watch for cars on your way out, then."

Before he can reply, a tall body brushes against my arm and gently pushes me behind them. I watch, confused, as Austin plants both hands against the surface of the bar and leans his face towards the frat guy in the too-tight polo.

Its loud and I can't make out what he's saying to the guy, but judging by his rigid posture and the scared shitless look on my harasser, its nothing nice.

I'm stunned as the guy peers around Austin's large frame, shouts a frantic, "Sorry!", and quickly scrambles away.

Austin slowly turns around to face me, lazily propping his elbows against the bar top.

I stare at him in bewilderment. "I didn't give him his change," I say.

He shrugs. "So keep it."

I shake my head slightly but don't hesitate in shoving the bills in my apron. Austin steps aside as I place the receipt in the basket below the counter, and quietly watches as I continue to cash out a few more people. My cheeks heat slightly as he continues to perch silently next to me, his dark gaze shamelessly watching my every move.

I'm confused as to why he's suddenly behind the bar with me when I haven't seen him all night. I'm all too aware of his presence and its got me hot and flustered.